and my body takes, and then takes some more. He’s pressing his temple to mine, making desperate sounds, like he’s in pain, like he’s trying to live through this. I involuntarily clench and he jerks forward, hard. My head nearly hits the headboard and I laugh.
“Sorry,” he says, and I kiss his cheek.
“Don’t apologize . Do it again.”
Chapter 26
We’ve never played the Staring Game with you inside me.” His hips flex a little, and my eyelids start to flutter.
I was expecting the pleasure and pressure, given that he’s huge and I’m small, but it’s emotion now tightening my throat until I can’t reply. It’s his eyes, and the expression in them as he begins to roll his hips, slick and easy. There’s no hard impact, no teeth-chattering thuds. He moves against me with measured control. This is the hottest moment of my life. I can’t process each sensation. A feeling similar to freaking out is beginning to fill my chest.
I can’t keep my composure under his eyes. Passionate eyes. Intense, fierce, fearless eyes. He wants me to hand over everything. He won’t take anything less from me.
“Talk to me.” He touches my nose with his. His breath is heavy and even.
“You were right . . . you fit me, somehow. Oh, that’s so nice.” I can barely speak. “I’m freaking out slightly.”
“Nice, huh?” He looks at me with amusement. “I can always do better than nice.”
He lets go of my fingertips, slides a hand under each of my thighs and lifts me a few inches off the bed.
“Nice is good, nice is good,” I babble. My next sound is a groan.
Joshua Templeman really, really knows what he’s doing.
My eyes roll back into my head. I know they do, because he smiles a bit and moves his hips again. The blankets fall away, and I’m front row, looking up his gorgeous flexing muscles, to his face.
“I’m not nice,” he tells me. Slowly, we begin to stretch against each other, and it’s more rolling friction.
I’ve never felt anything like it. It confirms that no guy I’ve ever been with has done it right. Until now.
He’s frowning a little in concentration. It’s got to be the angle he’s created so easily that seems to nudge a little switch inside my body.
“Hey.” He hits it again, and the pleasure is so intense a sob catches in my throat. Again and again. I’ve never played this game before.
I have no strength to raise my arms to his shoulders. Every distinct slide of his body into mine is taking me one step closer to something I’m fairly sure will kill me.
“Are you tired?” I try to be considerate but instead he picks up the pace.
Sweat begins to mist my skin. My hands scrabble for purchase on the sheets. If I’m a deadweight, it doesn’t seem to bother him. All I can do is press my shoulders against the mattress and try to survive this.
“I’m dying,” I warn him. “Josh, I’m dying.”
Josh lifts one of my ankles to rest on his shoulder. His arm hugs my leg, and he studies my face with interest as he increases his pace further. His eyebrows pinch together. The Staring Game is the absolute best when Josh is hitting my lifelong nonexistent G-spot. The one that exists now.
“Holy. Holy . . . Josh.”
When he laughs in response it’s nearly my undoing.
Here’s my problem. This doesn’t happen. First sex with someone is awkward and you take turns and try to work out each other’s likes and dislikes. There’s no simultaneous wet dirty screwing and trying to delay your orgasm. But I am. And he knows it.