length of him in my hands as I note his every reaction. The way his abs tauten under my fingertips, how his thighs tremble at the brush of my breath. The way his brows pull in as though suffering as I ghost my lips over him. Suffering in the best kind of way.
His body arches as I open my mouth, swallowing him, taking him to the back of my throat.
“So fucking good . . .” His words are a rumble of appreciation as I draw my lips back along his length. I glance up as he pulls my hair to one side and watch how he enjoys the sight of me sucking and lapping, of how I work him from tip to root. Or at least to where my hand grips him. His tight breaths and dirty whispers drive me on, my mouth working him sloppily, my moans vibrating around his flesh and joining his own. It takes me a moment to realise his hand is tightening in my hair, pulling me from him, dragging me to his mouth as he delivers the most punishing of kisses.
“You wanted to make me come.”
“Fair is only fair.” My voice sounds hoarse, and I wonder if my eyes are as dark as his seem. “But I was just enjoying you.”
“Move up the bed.” He’s all command and action as he toes off his shoes and his shorts as I scramble backwards, but not before taking a moment to appreciate the very European lack of socks.
There’s nothing quite so off-putting as a naked man in socks, is there?
“What are you smiling at?” He takes a condom from his wallet before spinning the latter to the nightstand. The former he sheaths himself with quite beautifully, though I expect a man like him completes everything with a little panache. He’s probably had lots of practise because practise does make perfect . . . even if that realisation is less than—
Like a bubble popped, my thoughts are no more as my body registers the brush of him between my legs. Moonlight cuts across the room, casting us in shadow but for the stripe of light slicing his shoulders, which is where I find my hands as he grips the back of my thigh. Warm, silky, yet so hard, the press of his crown at my entrance makes me tremble. I gasp as he breaches me, anticipating haste and the size of him. Maybe looking forward to it, too. I wasn’t expecting him to take his time, for him to hold me, grip my attention as well as my body as he fills me with a kind of slow exquisiteness, his dark eyes never once leaving mine.
I’d known somehow it would be good, but what I hadn’t expected was intimacy.
“You feel so good.” His voice sounds tight, his words morphing into a low moan as he lifts my leg higher, giving me more.
Everything narrows to where our bodies meet, to where he fills me so deliciously. He’s so big and so hard, and when his body flexes against mine, my body reacts as though lashed by electricity.
“Yes! That’s—” A compliment I don’t complete as his mouth covers mine, inhaling my words.
“So good.” His words, his velvety groan, ignite a pulsing wave deep within me. “Jesus,” he whispers tightly. But then there are no more words as he begins to move. No words but sighs of praise as each drive and flex of his hips works me into a delirious kind of frenzy.
“Fuck, you are beautiful.” Still inside me, he pulls back, his eyes devouring the whole of me, the sweep of his gaze a tangible thing. “Look at how you take me.” His head dips to watch as he rewards us both with shallow jab of his hips, his body almost undulating above me. And it’s perfect, every second of this torture, every brush of his breath, and every halting whispered compliment.
I cry out as he falls against me, driving himself to the hilt with a groan, his hands grasping mine. Fingers linked, he pins them to the bed as he begins to move, hard and fast. The feeling of being under him, being held in place by him, being at his mercy as he takes his pleasure. And as he gives—oh, how he gives—drives me to the insane notion of keeping him there forever. I wrap my legs around him, his thrusts now shallow and fast, our whispers urgent and staccato.
Pleasure spirals through me as I revel