His eyes narrow, dark and dangerous, his jaw tightening beneath my fingers. Tension radiates off him as war wages behind his stormy eyes.
For a moment, I think he’s going to pull away.
For a moment, I think I’ve lost him.
But then—he exhales sharply, his breath hot against my palm. His tongue flicks out, brushing my fingertips, and the simple touch sends a shock of heat straight through me.
He captures my wrist, pulling my hand away from his lips. His fingers thread with mine, pinning my hand to the bed, his other arm still braced beside my head, muscles taut and flexing like he’s barely holding himself together.
His cock twitches inside me, and I shudder, caught between discomfort and the intoxicating burn of fullness. I tighten around him involuntarily, a low gasp slipping from my lips, and his control fractures. His hips shift, and he slips deeper.
His head dips, his forehead pressing against mine, our breaths mingling, hot and uneven.
“Tell me if it hurts.” His voice is raw, gritted with a need so intense it shakes me. "Tell me when you're ready for more."
I take a shaky breath, feeling the stretch, the ache, but underneath it, a hunger that has nothing to do with pain.
I shift my hips experimentally, testing the way he fills me, the way he fits like he’s meant to be there.
His breath hisses through his teeth, his whole body stiffening. “Christ, woman. You’re going to kill me.”
A slow, mischievous smile tugs at my lips as I nudge him to roll over so I’m lying on top of him, my thighs spread over his hips, the broad head of his shaft pulsing at my entrance. “Then die a happy man.”
Pulling my knees higher by his hips, I sit up, letting my weight take him inside me this time. I close my eyes as his heat and hardness spread my soft, wet flesh. It feels good now, and I groan, rocking over the tip, taking him further inside. The sensation of being filled by him is like nothing I’ve ever experienced.
A low curse rumbles in his chest—and then he moves. He raises his knees behind me and sits up so I’m enveloped by him again. His breath comes in short bursts.
He kisses me gently, his fingers brushing my cheeks and into my hair. Then he nuzzles along my jaw to suck on my earlobe. I groan and rock my hips as a flood of wet heat saturates us, and he groans, too.
He lowers his knees a bit and pushes me back so I lie open to him, his cock still inside, pressing against my front wall. Then he plays me, sucking and licking and rubbing my body, the peaks and valleys, the wet flesh and hard nubs.
When I lower my hand to feel his shaft pumping into me, he grunts with approval and moves my fingers over my pussy.
“Show me.”
My eyes widen, and my belly contracts in anticipation. He wants to watch me touch myself. I don’t hesitate, dragging my fingers to circle my swollen clit.
He grips my hips, raising and lowering me over his shaft in time with my rhythm, and I almost explode right there.
“Oh, sweet baby potatoes,” I sob, my eyes closing, “don’t stop.”
His chuckle is low, satisfied. “You like it right there?”
I laugh, then moan, “I like it everywhere.”
He clamps his arm around my hips and pushes me into a kneeling position on the bed. “Hook your legs around my back. Hands on your breasts. I want to see you play with your nipples.”
I’m slow to respond, not wanting to move my fingers when I’m so close.
“Now,” he instructs. “I can’t last much longer.”
I do as he instructs, secretly liking it when he commands me, gliding my hands upward to cup and squeeze my breasts. He shifts position so his thrusts hit a spot inside me over and over as he presses firmly on my clit.
“Ahhh,” I scream, head and eyes rolling back, body boneless and at his mercy, fingers plucking my nipples.
I come apart—and he follows behind me with a feral growl.
* * *
