I relax back against the pillows, surrendering to him. His approach is different this time around. He’s gentler now, softer. He builds me back up with maddening patience. The second climb is different. It’s slower, deeper, maddening.
And I want more. The pleasure threatens to take root for an explosion, but in my mind, that doesn’t seem enough. For so long, I’ve dreamt of a moment like this with Agafon, yearning and longing to feel him, but in my fantasies, it ends another way.
I wonder why that fantasy can’t be a reality? I chide myself for thinking I needed to resist this attraction I feel toward him, for thinking he wouldn’t want this, wouldn’t want me. He’s here now, isn’t he? He’s doing things no man has done before, taking me to heights I never imagined possible, and all my doubts fade away. I allow this moment, the facts, to speak for themselves.
I want more, and I’m done fighting myself every step of the way. For all I know, he wants me too, and there’s only one way to find out.
I reach down and twist my fingers through his thick black hair, tugging him up gently. He follows my lead as he pulls himself up, searching my eyes to see if everything is okay.
“Come here,” I whisper, my voice rough with need.
His beautiful body now hovers over mine. I feel the heat from his skin and see the trickle of sweat glistening off that gorgeous chest. For a second, I can’t believe my luck. I can’t believe that I, with my imperfect body and lack of experience, am lying in bed with a man like him.
But then I see the hunger in his eyes as he takes in the sight of me, his face inches from mine, and I know he wants this too. Somehow, he doesn’t even realize it, but he wordlessly silences the doubts in my head.
My hands slide up his muscular arms to his shoulders, feeling the coiled strength beneath his skin. His erection presses against my thigh, hard for the taking.
He leans down and brushes the hair off my face, his lips coming close to mine. “You’re beautiful, you know that?” he murmurs, before planting soft kisses on my lips.
I sigh and lurch my hips up, and he gets the message.
He positions himself against me until I feel his cock nudging at my entrance. I grip his lower back, encouraging him to move quicker, yet despite my urgency, he enters me slowly.
I feel that stretch and whimper at the sheer pleasure of the sensation. When he finds me wet, he slides in deeper, entering wholly.
“Fuck,” he groans. “You feel perfect.”
I give him a lazy smile and slide my hands down to his lower back, egging him on.
He begins to move with soft strokes at first, and his eyes never leave mine. He’s watching every reaction, ensuring he doesn’t cross a line. It’s sweet, but I feel restless, impatient for more.
But he savors me, takes his own sweet time despite my little nudges. I've never felt so seen during sex, so... treasured.
My hands explore the planes of his chest, and his muscles flex beneath my fingers as he moves within me.
“God, the things you do to me, kitten,” he murmurs, and I feel my cheeks heat. I've never been comfortable with my plus-sized figure, always feeling like I should apologize for not being the delicate waif that seems to be every man's fantasy.
As if reading my thoughts, Agafon runs his hands down my sides, gripping my hips with appreciative pressure. “These curves drive me crazy. Do you have any idea how hard it's been to keep my hands off you?”
I shake my head unconsciously, and he catches on to that. He frowns and digs his fingers deeper into my hips. “Well, they do,” he says ferociously, as though daring me to fight him on it.
I simply close my eyes and let the sensation of him wash over me. “For a while now, Lilibeth.” He continues thrusting into me, deeper and faster. “I’ve wanted to rip off your clothes and do just this.”
The image his words evoke sends a fresh flood of heat between my legs. I lift my hips to meet his thrust for thrust. “Why didn’t you?” I ask, my eyes fluttering open.
“Because I was a fool,” he curses himself, pulling out and driving back in.
“Faster,” I whisper. Usually, I’d never dream of commanding a man in bed, but from how Agafon treats me, I know he’d only appreciate it more to be told what I like.
I’m proven right when he follows my request, increasing the speed of his thrusts until the bed begins to creak beneath us.
My pleasure takes a different form of its own, now being found in not just the sensations, but also the sounds; skin against skin, my breathless moans, and his heady grunts.
I wrap my legs around his waist and prop myself slightly higher with my legs to change the angle just so he hits the spot that gets me going.
“Yes, keep like that,” I gasp, feeling the pressure building again. “Don't stop.”
His rhythm remains just as I ask.
