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“Ryan.”

“I remembered the way your breath catches before you make a sound. I remembered your thighs shaking, your nails in my skin, and how you become demanding when you trust me enough to stop pretending you don’t need more.”

His fingers move again.

“I need more.”

“I know.”

“You said you weren’t holding back.”

“I’m not.” His mouth moves against mine. “Last night was hunger. This is me having time to enjoy what belongs to me.”

The possessive words tighten my body around his fingers.

Ryan feels it.

“There she is.”

“I hate when you say that.”

“No, you don’t.”

“No, I really fucking don’t.”

His mouth curves before he kisses me again.

I reach between us and close my hand around his cock. He is already hard enough to make the muscles through his stomach tighten when my palm moves over him.

Ryan catches my wrist.

“I wasn’t finished.”

“Neither am I.”

“You came home and immediately became difficult.”

“You told me to stop holding back too.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re in charge.”

“It means I get an opinion.”

“You have many.”

His fingers leave me before I can protest. Ryan uses the lubricant still covering them to stroke himself once, then positions his body behind mine and turns me onto my side.

His chest settles along my back again.

One hand moves beneath my neck while the other lifts my thigh over his. The position opens me without requiring my sore muscles to support anything, and the thick head of his cock presses against me from behind.

Ryan kisses the place beneath my ear.

“Buenos días, mi hada.”

He pushes inside slowly.

The stretch catches my breath despite the care he uses. My body remains tender from the night before, every inch of him pressing against places already marked by his return.