My panic shows in the movement of my hands, the way they shake and the way they skate over her body, shoulders to spine to hips, again and again. Not daring to stop her, not daring to hope.
“I got you,” she breathes—my words, again.
A kiss. Lips wet on mine, tongue soaring into my mouth, hot and wild and drowning.
As we kiss, she tilts my cock and brings the tip to her seam, nudging it there against her lips. I gasp out of the kiss. “Nik, are you sure you’re—”
She silences me with her mouth on mine, and then bumps her forehead against mine. “Trust me. I’vegotyou.”
She flutters her hips in tiny little circles, rolling my tip against her sex, teasing, driving me inward in increments, like a taunting microdose of sex.
I grasp her ass in clutching fingers, my grip hard, bruising. She doesn’t complain, doesn’t seem to notice.
She’s focusing entirely on me, on us, on what she’s doing. The fluttering ceases. She buries her face in the side of my throat, both arms slung around my neck. With a low moan, she takes a little more of me. An inch. Maybe two at most. Pauses, breathing slowly, deeply.
Pulling her face away, she finds my gaze and holds it. “So good,” she murmurs. “You feelsogood.”
Before I can say anything in return, she claims my mouth in a soft, sweet, slow kiss. And when she draws my tongue into her mouth and tangles hers against mine, she flutters her hips again in a slow roll—sinking down around me, taking more of me, inch by stretching inch.
“Oh god,” she groans, breaking the kiss and slamming her forehead against my breastbone. “Oh god…oh my fucking god,Chance.” Her teeth nip at my skin and she groans again, pausing to let herself get used to me. “I’ve never felt anything like this. Anyone like you.”
“Tell me you’re okay,” I growl.
A laugh. “Okay?” Another laugh. “Okay?” She clasps the back of my head and pulls my head up against hers, forehead to forehead. Groans long and low and feral as she slides her sex down my shaft, all the way, bottoming out to bump against my root. “So much more than just okay, Chance.”
I’m trembling all over—she’s taken all of me. “Annika.” I swallow hard, fingers digging brutally into her ass. “You feel… There are no words. No words, mama. No words for how fucking amazing you feel.”
She grabs my face in both hands and kisses me again, using the kiss and her grip on my jaw and cheeks and the kiss itself to brace against me as she slides herself up my length, drawing her slick hot wet sex up my aching, straining, throbbing cock. She’s slick around me, drenched, clamping hard around me, pulling upward until only the head of me is left inside her.
“We’re not using a condom,” I say.
“Are you clean?” She whispers the question, and I feel her smile against my cheek, because she knows the answer.
“Yes. Hasn’t been anyone in…a long damn time. And we get twice yearly checkups by a doctor who comes to the club—includes testing. I’m clean, I promise I am.”
She feathers a few slow, shallow strokes with just the tip of me inside her. “I am too. After that incident…I got tested and there’s been no one since. And I’m on birth control—the shot.” She kisses my cheek, my closed eyelid, beside my nose, then finally my lip. “I don’t ever want anything between us. Only you, only me.” She slides down my shaft, just a little. “Touch me, Chance,” she whimpers. “Touch me. Take me.”
I shake my head. “I’ll hurt you.”
She shakes her head back at me. “You won’t.” She braces her palms against my chest and sits upright, taking me back down deep inside her tightness. “Watch,” she commands. “Watch me.”
She hangs her head, long wild red curls a thick curtain around her face—she’s watching where we join, her sex and mine. Lifts up. All the way, slowly, inch by inch, drawing me out of her until I ache to have her wet pussy clenching around me again, needing it, desperate for it. And then she sinks down again, sliding me home.
Home.
Fuck, fuck.
She’s home.
I swallow around a knot in my throat, watching my cock disappear inside her pussy. “Fuck, Annika. Jesus, Jesus.” I groan, unable to hold myself back from pushing my hips against hers as she takes me to the hilt.
“Yes,” she hisses, when I thrust against her. “Yes, Chance.” She pries my hands off her hips, guides them up to her breasts. “Let go. Touch me. Take me.”
I cup the silky weight of her tits in my palms, brush my thumbs over her nipples, and she jerks, groans, and grinds in circles on me.
“Yes,” she moans. “I love your hands. I love the way you touch me.”
She lifts, spine arching, head thrown back, belly and breasts pushing forward as she draws me out of her. At the apex, when I’m about to slip free, she rolls her hips in a wide circle, taking my cock with her—I have to thrust. I need her. I need her tightness back.
