Page 137 of The Sweetest Return

He moved again, still careful, still watching me, but the control in him was fraying. I could feel it in the way his thighs tensed, in the way his breath kept breaking, in the way my name started leaving him like he was trying to pray and curse at the same time.

“Mani.”

I sucked him deeper.

His fingers moved faster on my clit.

“Mani, baby.”

My hand wrapped around what my mouth could not take.

“Fuck, Mani.”

The chant of my name in his voice made my pussy clench, and he felt the wetness slide over his fingers.

“You hear yourself?” he asked. “Choking on my dick and still dripping for me.”

I made a sound around him that could have been agreement.

Could have been begging.

The room narrowed to sound.

His breathing.

My gagging.

The wet slide of his fingers between my fat lips.

The obscene pull of my mouth around him.

He pulled out before I could take another breath around him and kissed me hard, tasting himself and me together. I grabbed for him, greedy and dazed, but he caught my wrist and pressed it into the mattress.

“Not like that.”

“Why?”

“I waited too long to be anywhere except inside you when I cum.”

My pulse jumped.

Dre reached into the nightstand, tore open a condom, and rolled it on while I watched from the bed.

His eyes held mine while he settled between my thighs and touched the side of my face.

“You still with me?”

“Yes.”

Then he kissed me and guided himself inside of me.

The first push stole my breath.

Because it was him.

Because my body remembered the stretch, the pressure, the fullness of him like no one else had ever occupied the same place. My fingers dug into his shoulders, and Dre stopped halfway inside, breathing hard.

“You good?”