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He’s strong and kind and capable.
I know he’ll make a good father, even if things don’t work out between us personally.
Except I want it to work out.
More than anything I’ve ever wanted with anyone.
Maybe that’s the issue, the reason I’ve been content to let things move at a snail’s pace.
But that stops now.
With our lips locked together, and his big hands all over me, my body seems to have a mind of its own. I feel his erection—and it’s massive—between my legs but he still doesn’t seem to be in any hurry. Like he’s waiting for me to take the lead for our first time.
His caution and obvious concern for my comfort and safety takes everything I’m already beginning to feel to another level. This isn’t about a baby anymore. There’s an intimacy between us that goes beyond being naked together, about to make love.
“What are you thinking about with so much emotion in your eyes?” he asks gruffly, one hand still toying with my nipple.
“You. Us. This.”
“Have you changed your mind?”
“God, no.” I rest my hands on his broad chest. “I’m just trying to savor every second of it because it feels…different.”
“Than what?”
“Every other man I’ve ever been with.”
“Because you’ve never been with me.” His eyes are blue lasers focused intently on mine.
All I can do is lean down and press my lips to his.
“Make love to me, Elliott.”
“Mmm.” He makes a sound of acquiescence, and then I feel him. Right there. Big and hard and—holy shit, he’s huge. I feel myself stretching to accommodate his girth and I let my eyes flutter closed, biting my lower lip as I focus on the feeling between my legs.
“If it’s too much, we can use lube,” he says gently. “I didn’t know we would be doing this today, or I would have brought some.”
How is he so sweet and thoughtful, even in the middle of sex?
“If we need it…I have some,” I pant, my brain starting to short-circuit as he presses deeper into me.
It’s equal parts too much and not enough, and the deeper he goes, the more uncomfortable it is—the more I want. Like I may never get enough of him.
“That’s a good girl,” he murmurs as he thrusts up and I sink down. “Just a little more.”
Slowly, carefully, he moves forward until—the feeling is hard to describe. If I didn’t know my anatomy pretty well, I would swear he’s about to split me in half. But he’s not. He’s warm and snug and completely seated deep inside me.
“Fuck.” I hiss out the word, wiggling on his lap to find a more comfortable position. Being on top makes the pressure almost unbearable. Yet the thought of moving away is worse.
Then he reaches out and puts those big, warm hands on my hips.
“Let me,” he says in that gruff tone that makes my insides flutter with need.
And he starts to move.
He slides in deep and then glides out slowly. My hands are on his chest, trying to balance as his hips rise and fall. I’ve never been with a man with so much control and it’s beautiful to watch. He’s beautiful—in the most masculine way ever. The way he moves. The way the muscles of his abdomen strain every time he thrusts into me. The gorgeous intensity reflected on his handsome face.
I’ve never experienced anything quite like this.
