And I loved it.
“C’mere.” He sounded drunk on me. Drunk on what I was doing to him. Yet he wanted me to stop, tugging me up his body so we were face to face again. He gripped my thighs until I straddled him. Our eyes locked, and my breath caught behind my swollen lips.
My heart caught behind my softening cage.
Mo lifted me up, then pressed me down. My inner muscles dragged down the length of his cock, and it took every ounce of my concentration not to throw my head back and moan to the ceiling. Instead, we watched each other, and I noticed three things about him:
The way the corner of his jaw pulsed, as if he was so close to the edge of his control, only the sheer force of his gritted teeth held him back.
The soft depth of his brown eyes. They seemed to go on forever and ever, tunnels of emotion, traveling all the way to his soul.
The reverence in which he held me. This had never changed, not from the bar in Vegas, to the first time we had sex, to the way he held my hand when we rode in the limo to the wedding chapel.
I gasped.
“I remember.”
“What, baby? What do you remember?” His eyebrows knitted in confusion and concentration.
“Riding with you to the chapel.” I lowered myself until we were flush, sighing at how perfect we fit. “Kissing, drinking more champagne, and the giddy ball of anticipation bursting from my chest.”
His eyes squeezed shut, and a shudder passed through him.
“Mo,” I whispered, “it’s okay. Everything’s okay. Look at me.”
He did. His eyes reopened, and he held onto me while I moved above him.
I rolled my hips again and again, all while Mo watched me, his concentration never breaking. His hands slid along my sides, exploring my ever-changing shape. From the way his pupils dilated, he loved the way I was growing.
But it wasn’t just the outside of me that had transformed. Little by little, ten years of armor had been chipped away, leaving me open—and vulnerable.
For the first time in a long time, I said fuck you to my fear and let myself feel more than just the physical. Oh, my heart wobbled in my chest like a baby taking its first steps. It faltered a time or two, but kept going and going, until it was steadier, beating for this new fearless life.
“Mo.” My insides clenched around him. “Mo.”
He reached between us and swirled the pads of two fingers over my clit, exactly where I needed him. I kept moving, riding, swaying my rounder body as he touched me. Cupping my breast, I pinched my nipple and cried out. Sometimes I forgot how much I’d already changed. I was sensitive everywhere, poised to detonate from the smallest touch.
“Mo,” I said again, but it came out as more of a keen.
“I’ve got you,” he gritted out, pressing me down on his cock until my eyes rolled back in my head. I was gone.
My hips jerked and rocked while my pussy clung to the hardness filling it. Mo continued rolling my clit, keeping my orgasm going and going until his moans met mine. Then both of his hands gripped my hips, keeping me in place while he thrust into me, once, twice, three times, before he tightened everywhere and heat coated my inner walls.
I fell over him, and he held me, fingertips tracing the line of my arm and shoulder. It was hard to believe just a couple hours ago I was annoyed and pissed off, because in that moment, I’d never felt closer to anyone.