His weight is comforting, grounding. I wrap my arms around him and hold on.
He kisses me everywhere, my hair, my face with special attention on my breasts.
“Oh God,” I moan. “My breasts are so sensitive.”
He flashes a wicked smile. “Yeah?”
His teeth tug at one nipple. I gasp, my back arching off the bed.
“You’re a cruel man.”
“Am I?” he teases and pinches my other nipple while sucking on the first.
He moves his body to the left and slides his hand over my stomach, pausing for a moment before cupping my pussy.
“Don’t tease,” I moan.
His fingers slide through my wetness. I’m already so worked up that even the lightest touch makes me whimper.
“Please,” I beg, my hips lifting toward his hand.
“So impatient,” he murmurs against my breast, his breath hot on my sensitive skin.
He pushes one finger inside me, then another, curling them in that perfect way that makes stars burst behind my eyelids. His thumb finds my clit. I cry out, my hands fisting in the sheets.
“That’s it,” he encourages, his voice low and rough. “Let me hear you.”
He works me, his fingers pumping in and out while his thumb circles my clit in maddening strokes. The pressure builds low in my belly, coiling tighter and tighter.
I’m so close.
His mouth closes around my nipple again, sucking hard, and that’s all it takes. I shatter, my body convulsing as pleasure crashes through me in waves. I scream his name, not caring who might hear.
He doesn’t stop. He keeps moving his fingers, drawing out my orgasm until I’m trembling and oversensitive and begging him to stop.
Finally, he withdraws his hand and brings his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean while holding my gaze. The sight makes my spent body clench with renewed need.
“You taste like heaven,” he says.
I reach for him, pulling him down for a kiss. I taste myself on his tongue. It’s intimate. Perfect.
“I need you inside me,” I whisper against his lips.
He positions himself at my entrance, his gaze locks on mine.
He slides in slowly, carefully, like I’m made of glass. The stretch is perfect. The fullness is exactly what I need.
“I love you,” he says, his forehead pressed against mine. “I love you so fucking much.”
“I love you too.”
He starts to move, long slow strokes that make my toes curl. This isn’t the rough, desperate sex we’ve had before.
This is making love.
I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. He groans, his control slipping slightly.
“You feel so good,” he pants. “So perfect.”