I pushed his underwear off his hips, and the cut V of his abdomen led straight to his magnificent cock—huge and hard and perfect.
“Jesus, Asher…”
I stroked him once, experimentally, to feel the velvet of his skin over the hard length of him.
“Faith,” he said tightly. “Don’t fuck around.”
“Never,” I said. “Just getting acquainted.”
I took the condom packet from Asher, but instead of opening it, I sheathed his beautiful, huge cock with my mouth.
“Ah fuck,” Asher groaned, his hand landing heavily in my hair, gripping, and sending delicious licks down my spine.
Little sounds of want were issuing from my throat as I took him deep, then shallow, swirling my tongue and pumping him in my fist. Every sound he made, every muttered curse, every tightening of his hold on my hair spurred me on. He was holding himself back, trying not to fuck my mouth. I would have let him, except I needed him inside me so badly, I thought I’d die.
“Now,” I said, breathless, releasing him and rolling the condom down in record time. I scooted back on the bed and lay back, wanton and needy, my legs spread. “Right now, firefighter.”
He kicked off his jeans and underwear and moved swiftly over me, on top of me, his cock brushing against my warm wetness. He hooked one of my legs over the crook of his elbow, spreading me wider, and in one smooth, hard thrust, buried himself inside me.
Time stood still, allowing my delirious mind and body to savor the feel of him—heavy, thick, and so, so deep in me. A warm, aching pleasure was stoked at that first thrust, and grew heavier, stronger with every hard slam of Asher’s hips to mine.
I could not get enough of him, could not get him deep enough in me. I clawed his broad back, trying to keep him tight to me, to meld his body with mine. I lifted my hips in answer to his every move until he slipped one hand down to hold me into his thrusts.
All the while he kissed me when he could, when our frantic bodies allowed it—a wet mashing of teeth and tongue.
“I-I’m close…” I managed. “More.”
Asher released my hip and hooked my other leg on his elbow, bending me in half. He pressed himself up, palms flat on either side of me, over me, driving hard and fast. The sensation of him moving in me like this, so good and so right, sent me over the edge. I’d never had sex like this before—where I wanted the man as himself and not just his body. Where half of my pleasure came from his, which I was creating in him just as much as he was creating in me.
Give and take.
My orgasm erupted, wiping out all thought and leaving me tight and tensed as ribbons of white-hot pleasure coursed through me from my center where his cock still moved in me, drawing my release out longer, while taking him closer to his.
“Come, baby,” I breathed, my hands on his glorious forearms, nails digging in. “Come inside me, Asher.”
With a grunted cry and a last few earth-shattering thrusts, I felt his release rocket through him, abs tight, neck corded, his face a pained mask of ecstasy. Although he had on a condom, I imagined him spilling his release deep inside me, filling me with it, coating my insides with it.
Marking me as his.
This is new, I mused, examining my fevered thoughts, and a pang of unease lanced through the hot haze of my orgasm. I can’t feel like this about him. I’m leaving.
And then he was on top of me, skin to skin, warm and heavy, kissing me gently, thoroughly, reverently. So much so that tears sprang to my eyes, and that was definitely not allowed. I did not cry over men. Ever.
And yet, I kissed him back with just as much depth and care, not wanting to do anything else but hold him and kiss him and stay in this moment forever.
Finally, he broke away and gently pulled out of me to lie on his side beside me. “How’s your ankle?”
“I have ankles?” I said. “My entire body has become one pulsating orgasm.”
He grinned in the dimness. “Want some water? Food? A nap? But just a short one.”
“Because you’re still not done with me?”
“Not even close.”
God, his smile—a gentle thing on his hard, granite features, made my pulse quicken even more than his words. The