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His fingers were exactly what I’d known they’d be. Long, scarred across the knuckles, absolutely steady. He slid two of them into my pussy and dragged the pad of his thumb over my clit in a slow circle, and my hips came up off that mattress.

“There,” I said. “Right there. Don’t change anything.”

“Then keep talking.”

So I did.

Two fingers curled forward and his thumb steady on my clit, and I gave him the instructions the way I give them across a table with a body open on it, and he took every one of them and did exactly what he was told.

“Like that?”

“God. Yes. Just like that.”

“Say it again.”

“Don’t stop, don’t you dare stop…”

Somewhere in there my voice quit being flat at all.

I came with his mouth on my throat and my heels dug into the backs of his thighs, and it went through me in a long unraveling wave that started low in my belly and took everything with it.

He didn’t move until I did. When I could focus again he had his fingers still inside me, gone slow and gentle, riding out the aftershocks with me.

“Now,” I said.

“You sure.”

“I’ve been sure since Friday. Condom’s in my bag, left pocket.”

His mouth twitched. “Left pocket.”

“I pack the same way every time. Don’t make it a thing.”

He didn’t make it a thing. He got it, and rolled it on, and then he was between my thighs with one forearm braced beside my head, and he pushed into me slow, so slow, an inch and then a pause and then another, and my whole body stretched around him.

“Breathe,” he said.

“I’m breathing.”

“You’re not.”

I wasn’t.

He held there, all the way in, and made me look at him. I knew what he was doing. He was giving me the last chance to stop it, and he was going to hold there all night if I didn’t say otherwise.

“Patch.” I got a hand on the side of his face. “Move.”

He moved.

Slow at first, all the way out and all the way back, and I felt every inch of it. Then harder, and the bed frame started talking, and his hand went under the small of my back and tilted my hips so he was hitting somewhere that made my vision go soft at the edges.

“There,” I said. “Don’t change a damn thing…”

“I’ve got it.” He had his thumb between us and back on my clit while he fucked into me, harder now, the headboard knocking the wall on every stroke, and he started talking. Low. Right against my ear.

His breath was ragged. “Look at you taking me.”

“Patch…”