He gives me what I ask for, his expression morphing from cocky confidence to positively tortured. His eyebrows are bent, his mouth grimacing.
“Fuck.” He exhales harshly before brushing my cheeks with his thumbs. “Fuck, you feel good.”
“So do you,” I whisper.
“I have to move or I might die.” He sets a slightly sweaty kiss on my upper lip.
“Please, Benji. Please move.” I close my eyes as he eases out. He glides in and shockingly, there is less pain than before. I’m shocked further when my knees lift of their own volition, my heels gripping his ass cheeks to pull him closer. Then there’s no talk of slowing down or speeding up. He sets a rhythm I match with my hips, angling so he hits a spot—that spot… Right…there.
“Oh!” Eyes wide, my hands wound in his hair, I stare at him in awe. He appears concerned for a second before his expression slips into arrogance. A grin takes over his face.
“Well, well. Look what I found.”
“Is it good?” I choke out.
“Did it feel good?” he asks, but he knows.
“So, so good,” I admit, a little afraid of my own body. It’s reacting in a way it never has before and surprising me at every turn.
He hoists my leg up, placing the back of my knee in the crease of his elbow. “Stretch time.” He gently lifts my ankle and rests it on his shoulder. Then he follows suit with my other ankle. This time when he sinks inside me, the heat within has nothing to do with pain and everything to do with pleasure.
Each deep glide hits the bullseye of a hidden target. I’ve given up holding on to him to twist the comforter in my fists instead. Anything to anchor myself to the earth and keep from flying into a gravity-free spin into oblivion. Each thrust sends me up an invisible incline I never knew existed. Up, up, until I have no choice but to go over.
My orgasm grips me tightly. It’s all-consuming. My eyes close, my worries vanish, my thoughts break into tiny pieces. I float in sensory overload on the highest of highs. I gradually become aware of an increasing fullness followed by a stickiness inside me. Of him releasing my legs to rest on either side of his prone body. His weight presses me deeper into the bed as he fights to support himself with shaky arms. He’s still inside me, thick and pulsing.
His lips kiss my eyelids once. Twice. Through sheer force of will, I lift the sandbags weighing them down and focus on the man above me. His fantastic eyebrows wing upward in an unasked question. He wants to know how he did. And damn him, he did excellent. He did perfect.
“I’m not sure who made out better in that transaction,” he informs me gruffly. “I feel almost guilty for how much fun I had.”
“I can’t remember how much fun you had because I was on another planet,” I murmur. And then I laugh. He laughs.
This is so…easy. Even if I’ve only lived a third of my life, I know this moment is one of the best moments of the rest of it.
Hands down.