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“You’re very sure of yourself.”

I drag my teeth over my lower lip, then give him the most stunning smile I can muster. “No. I’m very sure of you.”

In his eyes I see it all again—everything he means to make good on if the world gives him the chance.

“Come here, then,” he murmurs.

I do, but he catches my hip before I can go farther.

“Wait—actually,” he says, lifting his palm to my mouth. “Spit.”

I make a face at him.

His lips quirk, but his gaze stays intent. “Rosie,” he says, voice laced with impatience. “Trust me.”

I do.

I gather saliva and let it drip onto his hand. He spits into his palm too, then wraps his slick fingers around his throbbing cock, stroking firmly from base to tip. His eyes lock on mine as he pumps his shaft with deliberate rhythm, the sight making me clench in anticipation.

“There,” he murmurs. “Now come here.”

His cock stands rigid beneath me, slick with our spit, the head flushed dark and glistening. I lower myself slowly, feeling the tip nudge against my entrance.

The first stretch steals the breath from me. My fingers dig into his shoulders at once, my forehead falling to his as I fight not to tense.

He goes completely still beneath me.

“Rosie,” he says, ready to stop the second I ask it.

I shake my head, breathing hard. “No. Just—give me a moment.”

His hands move slowly over my back, soothing, patient, as if he would wait all night if that was what I needed, even while every bit of him begged me not to. The sharpness eases by degrees beneath his touch, turning into something fuller, stranger, deeper than I know how to name. A devastating ache settles deep and takes me apart from the inside.

I lift my head, meeting his eyes. He’s watching me, unblinking, lips parted, wrecked by the effort of staying still.

“There you are,” he whispers, thumb brushing my cheek.

The ache turns molten, spreading into a low, throbbing pleasure. I rock my hips experimentally, and his hands tighten on my thighs, his breath catching hard.

“Slow—Fuck, Rosie, slowly. Don’t hurt yourself.”

He’s barely holding it together, but I don’t want it slow. I lift, then sink down harder, taking him deeper. A rough sound breaks from his throat, and it only serves to spur me on. The sensation overwhelms me. His cock fills me so completely, every drag of him against me ignites pleasure everywhere I’m most sensitive.

His control slips. His hands clamp around my hips, pulling me into a deeper grind, and I ride him with vigour then, lifting and dropping onto him, my breasts bouncing heavily with every fall.

I glance down, watching his shaft disappear into me over and over, my juices dripping from me, soaking his balls and the dark hair at his base. The sight pushes me higher, arousal slicking everything.

“Harder,” he growls, hips bucking up to meet me. “Fuck me like you own me, Rosie.” His thrusts turn brutal, pounding into me from below.

I lean forward, biting his neck hard enough to mark him, then move faster, chasing the building pressure. His fingers dig into the flesh of my rear, causing a new pressure to rise at my centre. My thighs quiver as I ride him relentlessly.

He brings his fingers to my mouth. “Suck,” he commands, and I do, swirling my tongue around them until they’re wet.

He reaches around to my back hole, circling the tight ring before pushing in knuckle-deep, the invasion making me scream. He bucks savagely, moving his finger in time with his thrusts, the dual penetration near to pushing me over the edge.

“Mmm—more, harder,” the words spill from my lips like a siren’s call.

I’m not sure how he manages so much all at once, but he takes my nipple into his mouth, and it’s like he’s found some hidden power in me and split it wide.