“I didn’t give you enough rosaries.” I can feel him smirk against my shoulder.
“You just wanted to imagine me on my knees,” I tease him back, the darkness and the closeness of his body making me braver than I should be.
“You’re right. I did.Iprobably should have gone to confession.”
“For the way you were recording me, definitely.” I grin.
“I’d like to see anyone resist after they heard you for the first time.”
“I tried to be quiet.”
“And failed. Thank fuck.” He places a kiss to the top of my shoulder. “How was I fucking you in your dream tonight? Tell me. Because the way you were moaning and grinding away, it seemed like you were loving it.”
“You were already inside me as I woke up. You’d snuck into bed, crawled under the sheets, and pulled my panties down my thighs.”
“Like this?” His fingers hook into the elastic waist of my underwear, and he pulls them down so slowly I feel every single inch as the cotton slides lower and lower over the curve of my ass and down under my cheeks.
“Just like that.”
“Where were my hands?”
“One was just like this, wrapped around my middle.” I run my fingers over the backs of his knuckles. “The other was wrapped around my throat.”
He slips his other hand under the crook of my neck and leans forward to kiss the side of my throat.
“Like this?” he asks softly.
“Yes,” I whisper back.
“What else was I doing?” He kisses me again, this time at the base of my neck, and I can’t stop the small sigh of pleasure that comes out of me when he does it.
“The hand you had around my middle… You moved it lower.” I still feel shy, unsure of exactly how to handle a man like him. He’s so rough around the edges, terrifying really, but so intelligent and soft when he chooses to be. It’s uncharted territory for me to have both in the same person. I've only ever known the extremes in my husband and my teenage boyfriend before him. Both of them pale in every possible comparison, which only makes my nerves grow.
His fingers trail over my abdomen, his thumb brushing soft circles in their wake until he meets the waistband of my panties, pinned low on my hips from the way he’s pulled them down in the back. His fingers creep under and slowly slip between my legs, his middle finger parting me and brushing over my clit.
He groans against my skin when he finds how wet I am and kisses a trail back down my throat. He nips at my shoulder and grinds his hips upward until I can feel how hard he is. I spread my legs wider for him, and he takes the invitation to add his index finger to the gentle exploration. He’s so careful, so gentle that it leaves me wanting more, and I cant my hips to meet his fingers, rocking against them for more friction.
“Fucking hell. You’re soaked, sweetheart.”
“The dream sex was good.” I grin against my pillow, thankful he can’t see my face.
“Well, I’m glad I’m meeting expectations up there.”
“Exceeding them, honestly. The perfect rhythm, angle, and you say all the right things.”
“What do I say?”
“I can’t repeat it. It’s too much, and I’ll die of embarrassment.” I plead with him.
“It can’t be worse than the things I said on the recording you heard.”
“Things like that.”
“Like what?” he presses, his fingers circling my clit with more purpose. “You tell me, and I’ll give you more of this as a reward.”
“Please.” I roll my hips to meet him.
“Keep talking.” He bribes me.
