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“I didn’t—” He breaks off, glare wet, furious. “I didn’t fuck anyone.”

I smile. “Good boy. That wasn’t so hard.”

I move my fingers, spreading him on the way out, pressing in again like I’m teaching his body the shape of me all over. I watch every twitch, and every time his hips betray him and chase what he’s pretending he doesn’t want.

Then I pull my fingers out and leave him empty. “Get my cock ready for you, baby.”

He glares and turns his head. I take his jaw in one hand and turn his face down until he has no choice but to see what he’s about to take.

“Open it. Put it on me. Or I push in like this, and then it will get bloody, sweetheart.” It’s a lie. I’d never go dry on him, but I feed off how nervous he looks right now.

He cusses and snatches the bottle from the sheets. He pours some lube onto it, and then I catch it before he can hesitate and wrap it around me myself.

I roll my hips into his fist. “Coat every inch. I want it slippery wet when I put it in you.”

When his thumb smears over the head, I hiss and squeeze his wrist in warning. “Enough.”

I pull his hand off me and shove his thighs wider, then I bring my head against his rim, but I don’t push. I glide. Up. Down.

“Should I be soft with you, prince?”

He bites his lip, and the color on his cheeks blooms. “I’m not a girl.”

I laugh and drag the head over him again, letting it catch and slip. “I never said you are, princeling.”

His nails scrape my forearms. “Then don’t you dare treat me like I’ll break.” He sounds mad, and it only makes my dick harder. “Go hard. I’m not made of glass. I can take it—I always take it—”

“Your mouth hasn’t changed.”

I push all the way in.

One thrust. To the root. His body yields because it has to, and because I don’t give it another option. The sound he makes is a scream torn out of his chest. His hands fly to mine, fingers locking around my wrists, clinging and shoving at the same time as his hole clamps down.

I stay buried with my hips flush to his ass.

“That’s it,” I whisper against his cheek. “Scream for me.”

His grip on my hands tightens. I turn one wrist to lace our fingers and pin them to the mattress beside his head.

“I missed you.” I kiss the corner of his mouth as I roll my hips, just a grind.

“Move.” The word scrapes out of him.

I start moving. Out until the head catches on his rim, then back in to the hilt. I missed the way his body fights me and takes me in the same breath.

I fold him tighter as one hand hooks under his knee and shoves it up toward his chest so he’s split open under me, and my other hand guides his wrist down to his lower stomach.

“Feel that?” I thrust in. “That’s me. That’s how deep I am. Don’t look away.”

He tries. But I catch his chin and force his face down until he has to see his own hand jump every time my hips snap forward.

“Harder,” he bites out. “If you missed it so much—fucking prove it.”

His wish is my command.

I drive into him deep enough his spine bows off the mattress, our bodies sealed, then I spit into his open mouth and kiss it back into him while I fuck him through the sound he makes.

“Say you missed me.”