and slide. His head dips and his breathing increases. His pupils are dilated and he's looking at me in a way I want to memorize forever.
The weight of him is heavy in my hand. Warm and hard and large enough to give me a thrill of anticipation along with a hint of anxiety. I rub my thumb over the tip of him and listen in satisfaction to his low growl.
"You're distracting me," he announces a moment later and I find my hands pinned over my head, clasped firmly in one of his. I buck lightly against him and he pins me in place with a thigh wedged between mine as his mouth moves down my neck to my collarbone.
Now I'm the one growling.
And he's back controlling the pace. Maddeningly.
"I'm not distracting, I'm efficient." I gasp when he fastens his lips around my nipple. I tilt my hips toward him, as much as I'm able with him on top of me, begging wordlessly.
"Efficiently driving me crazy, yes."
He kisses me everywhere. Every inch of me burns in the wake of his lips.
He's gentle, and it's dizzying in its surprise. So different than what I'd have expected of him.
Finally he rises from the bed and finds his pants on the floor, returning with a condom. He's already torn the package with his teeth, rolling it over his length while I watch.
Then he's kneeling over me on the bed once more, his eyes on mine as his thigh nudges between mine, spreading my legs wide so he can settle in the valley of my legs. The weight of his erection on my stomach makes my skin burn with urgent need and I don't think I've ever wanted someone as much as I want Nick in this moment. My want is too big an emotion to even quantify and when he leans down and kisses me, the air is weighted with anticipation.
When he nudges into me it's with more gentleness than I'd have ever given him credit for. He's heavy inside of me. Heavy and thick and I'm deliciously full. I tip my hips towards him, silently begging for more, but Nick simply grins and dips his head to kiss the side of my neck as he eases inside of me with an agonizing slowness. As if he's enjoying every inch like its own delicious course.
This isn't how I imagined it—when I dared to imagine what it would be like between us. I imagined a frantic hate-fuck. This is not that. This is suspiciously like making love. A thought I shove out of my head as fast as it appears.
Nick would never do shoddy work, even in this. That's all.
My chest heaves beneath him and I run my hands down his back, touching every spot I can reach. Reveling in the feel of his skin beneath my fingers. He feels so good. Over me, inside of me.
I slowly yield to him, stretched around him as he slides deep. I wriggle under him, adjusting to the invasion and near ready to beg all over again. Finally, buried deep, he stops, not pulling back to give us the stroke we both need.
"Tell me you like me," he says. He's braced on his forearms over me, his head bent, our foreheads barely touching. His eyes are on mine and his jaw is clenched with the effort of holding himself still inside of me.
All the air leaves my lungs. What?
"Admit it," he growls, pressing a kiss softly to my lips, pulling my bottom lip between his.
"I'm feeling… fond of you right now," I offer.
He rolls his eyes but flexes his hips, giving us what we both want, finally beginning to stroke in and out at a pace I'm sure is meant to drive me to madness. I wiggle and buck beneath him, frantic to increase the tempo, overwrought to answer this building pressure between my legs. To see this union to its conclusion. Right this very instant.
"I can be fast," I implore with another attempt to increase the tempo, my fingers digging into his back and my bossy hips nearly frantic to come. "I'm so close."
This time Nick laughs, his eyes sparkling in amusement as he slips one hand down to hold my hip firmly in place. "Relax," he tells me, when I can do anything but. But he forces me to, with his maddening insistence on a rhythm benefiting us both. Deep, tireless strokes until I've given in completely. My body pliable and soft beneath him.
And as soon