Page 26 of My Protective Biker

He works me through it, his fingers steady and relentless, drawing it out until I'm shaking and oversensitive.

He pulls his hand away and I watch him bring his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean while maintaining eye contact.

The sight sends another pulse of heat through me even though I just came.

"You taste good," he says.

Then he's positioning himself between my thighs, the broad head of his cock pressing against my entrance.

I'm still sensitive and when he starts to push inside the stretch is immediate and intense. Too much. I make a sound and my hands come up to his chest.

He stops immediately, buried maybe two inches inside me.

"Breathe," he tells me. "Just breathe through it."

I do, focusing on pulling air into my lungs while my body adjusts to the intrusion.

He stays perfectly still and I can see the effort it's taking, the tension in his jaw and shoulders, the way his arms are shaking slightly with the strain of holding back.

After a moment the discomfort starts to ease. "Okay. You can move."

He pushes in another inch and we both groan. The fullness is overwhelming but it's starting to feel good, the stretch turning from uncomfortable to exactly right. He pulls back slightly and pushes in again, working deeper with each slow thrust.

It takes time.

He's patient, reading my body and my breathing, giving me space to adjust.

When he finally bottoms out, his hips flush against mine and his cock buried completely inside me, we both go still.

"God," he breathes. "You feel—I can't even—"

He starts to move. Slow and deep, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in with deliberate precision.

Each thrust hits something inside me that makes my toes curl and sparks shoot up my spine. I wrap my legs around his waist and the angle changes, gets deeper.

"More," I tell him. "I can take it. Give me more."

Something shifts in his expression.

He adjusts his weight onto his good arm and then he gives me what I asked for, driving into me harder and faster.

The bed creaks under us and the headboard hits the wall with each thrust and I don't care about any of it.

His hand slides down to grip my hip, fingers digging into the soft flesh there with bruising force.

The pressure sends sparks of pleasure-pain through me and I clench around him involuntarily.

"Fuck," he groans. "Do that again."

I do, tightening my inner muscles around him deliberately, and his rhythm falters. His grip on my hip becomes almost painful and he starts pounding into me in earnest, the angle shifting so he's hitting that spot inside me with every single stroke.

The pleasure is building again already, coiling tight and hot in my belly. I'm climbing fast, my whole body drawn tight as a wire.

My hands slide down his back to grip his ass, pulling him deeper with every thrust.

"Touch yourself," he says, voice wrecked. "Want to feel you come on my cock."

I slide my hand between our bodies and find my clit, swollen and slick and so sensitive that the first touch makes me cry out.