Page 149 of Out Of A Fix

He was panting as his muscles clenched around me.

“You feel so good,” I said, wrapping my arm around his chest, taking hold of his right pectoral, gripping tight as I stroked deep, then dropped over him as his muscles loosened, my chest plastered to his back, all of me buried inside him. I wanted to move, needed to move, but I would never rush, so I waited for him to get used to being filled up. “Grab your cock.”

“No, you move,” he growled at me. “Oh, Nash, I need—Nash.”

He was so tight, so hot, making it nearly impossible to move, but when I shoved forward, once, then again, the third time, he lifted to meet me.

“Is it good?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me deeper?”

“Yes,” he muttered, and already I could move, sliding forward and back. His body was shaking, and I loved it.

“Come here,” I directed, shifting around him, wedging him against me on our sides, still buried to my balls, his legs open wide, as I took him in hand and tugged and squeezed, making the rhythm the same as my thrusts, deepening them each time.

He stretched his right arm up, curling it around my neck, wanting me close. When I kissed him, he wanted more, sucking on my tongue, and I began a slow pounding that he liked as he squirmed in my embrace. When I changed my angle, he jolted in my arms.

“Nash,” he moaned my name.

I’d nailed his prostate, and so I moved, sitting up, taking him with me, still working his length as I made sure to peg it again and again.

“I’ve got you,” I promised in his ear.

I felt his muscles clamping down around my length before he yelled my name and came.

“Fuck,” I croaked out, turning him in my arms, pressing him down under me, lying on top of him, ramming inside him, biting down on the same place, same shoulder, arm under him for leverage as I found my release.

It took me a moment to realize he was shaking.

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry, let me get⁠—”

“Don’t you dare fuckin’ move.”

I nuzzled my face into his hair. “I hurt you.”

“Yes…and no.”

“Then let me⁠—”

“You… I felt it.”

Slowly, gently, I lifted off him, and he moaned. I couldn’t tell if the sound was good or bad. When he rolled his head on the pillow, still not moving, I saw his eyes filled with tears.

“Talk to me,” I demanded.

“It was new. I’ve never done that before. So right now, yeah, I’m sore, but you didn’t hurt me. I will go to work tomorrow, and God help the man who slaps my ass.”

I squinted at him. “No one should be slapping your ass but me. Not ever.”

His smile through his tears was so beautiful. “You’re so possessive.”

“Of course I am,” I said, wiping away his tears, stroking his cheek, along his jaw and his chin before leaning in and kissing him. “You’re mine.”

His sigh was long. “I felt how much you wanted me.”

“When was this?” I asked even though I knew.