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“I can handle it,” I reply.

But my legs have only just stopped shaking and I’m not sure if I really can handle it. I just know I want to try.

“You want it so bad, don’t you?” He steps closer and pulls me up and places my arms around his neck.

I don’t answer him. What could I say?

“And you think you can handle me? You want me to drive into you so deep that you see stars? Is that what you want?”

His question isn’t rhetorical. He’s looking at me like he wants an answer.

I give a small nod.

“Say it,” he says. “Tell me what you want.”

I glance down at his thick, hard cock between us, then I look him in the eye. “I want you to fuck me.”

He groans. “I know you do.”

He positions his crown at my entrance, and I pull in a breath. I really hope I can handle this.

He slams into me in one sharp thrust, and I cry out.

He’s so big.

I can feel him everywhere.

I circle my legs around him. I want more. I have him so deep in me and I want more. I want it all.

“You okay?” he says.

“More,” I say.

“Good girl,” he replies. “Tell me what you like.”

I like him. I like this. I like him fucking me. I like everything about tonight. Everything about him.

He starts to move, pounding into me over and over, and I can barely breathe. There’s no room for anything inside me except him. The drag of him makes my entire body vibrate. I’ve stopped trying to hold back or to hide parts of myself. It’s like he’s prized me open and I’m laid bare in every sense. He pulls sounds out of me that I’ve never heard before.

“Fuck, Avril,” he says. “You’re so fucking tight. So fucking wet.”

The beginnings of my orgasm start to wind inside of me, spooling tighter and tighter. But that’s impossible. There’s no man on this planet that could make me come twice. Not in one evening, let alone within an hour.

It’s not going to happen.

He dips down to claim a kiss, not interrupting his rhythm, his relentless fucking of me. Maybe it’s the intimacy of the move—his need for more than the feeling of fucking—but something inside me cracks open and that’s all it takes for the string inside me to snap and my orgasm to engulf me, racing through my body like it’s been waiting a thousand years to be set free.

I grip his shoulder, my fingernails digging into his skin, and he cries out. “Avril!”

His thrusts turn sharper, more staccato, and he pulls my hips toward him as he orgasms with me.

“Fuck,” he groans as he comes.

He opens his eyes to find me staring at him.

I want answers. How does he do that? Is his dick magic? Is he a mobster wizard or something?

I can still feel him, pressed up against the inside of me and I clench, and he groans.