She was beyond all modesty, lifting her hips into his touch as he stroked her slippery skin, entering with one, and then two fingers. She’d been living like a nun, overworked, overtired – it wouldn’t take much more than this. A little more pressure from his thrusting fingers, a little pass of his thumb across her clit. She breathed in ragged gasps, and her fingernails were sunk in his bare shoulders. A little more, a little more…
“God,” she whispered. “Yes, please.”
But then he withdrew.
“Aidan,” she hissed in protest.
His laugh was almost soundless, a breath. “You’ll be alright, baby,” he whispered. “Promise.”
She heard the condom open, heard the comforter rustle as he shifted. He was too indistinct, without her glasses, for her to enjoy the show, but she knew what was coming, and put her arms around him as he settled over her once more.
It was his fingers first, opening her. And then the blunt head of his cock. And then…
He filled her with one fast thrust, and she knew she hadn’t been prepared.
It was too much.
It was everything.
He held still at first, as she adjusted, like he knew she needed a moment to reconcile that it was him inside her, that her fantasy had finally unfolded.
But then he said, “Shit,” against her neck, and she realized how harsh his breathing was, how tense he was in her arms and between her thighs.
“Aidan?”
He made a pained sound in his throat; his breath rushed across her skin. “Shit,” he repeated. “I was gonna…and I usually…and you haven’t…but shit, baby, I’ve gottamove.”
That strain in him? The strain of holding back.
Sam grinned in disbelief and bit her lower lip, staring up at the formless expanse of her ceiling. “Aidan,” she said, carefully, “are you saying you’re too…close…to make this last?”
“Yeah,” he panted. “That’s what I’m saying.” A spasm went through him, every muscle clenching. “Ah, fuck.”
She would never have guessed this, and she loved it.
Sam pressed her breasts up into his chest and let her hands trail slowly down his back – all his sleek, muscled back, imagining she could feel the patterns of his tats – to the round hard curve of his ass. She dug her fingertips in and cocked her hips in unmistakable invitation to do his worst.
“Aidan,” she repeated, and it almost sounded like a command.
He growled against her neck, and he moved. Holy hell, did he move. It was more powerful and feral than she’d imagined, and even though she wasn’tcloseat the outset, the sheer overwhelming sensation of him rooting so deeply inside her brought her almost, almost, almost…
He bit her when he came. She felt his teeth in her shoulder.
He was a marvel on top of her, one hundred percent animal, his slick chest pressing against hers as he tried to catch his breath, hips still churning slowly, like little aftershocks, his weight depressing the mattress all around her.
Sam could hear no sounds in the house save for those they made, breathing, the covers rustling.
Finally, Aidan withdrew and rolled onto his side, pulling her with him and bundling her close. “You didn’t come.”
Up close like this, she could see every detail of his face in the moonlight, the stubble, the shadows beneath his eyes, the little scar along his jaw she wanted to know the origins of. No, she hadn’t come, but she’d expected a moment ofoh damn, what did I do?Instead, she felt peaceful, if not a little internally frustrated.
It felt…very important, special and right that Aidan was here with her like this.
“You know what I would tell you, if you were one of my students?”
“Hmm?”
“Keep trying until you receive the desired result.”
