My toes curled, then pointed, every muscle in my body tense. Usually, I wanted to give head first, to make sure my partner was feeling good.
But as Matt licked me, groaning, his sounds effectively silenced my concerns about his arousal and renewed thoughts of perishing. I might die from pleasure. The flat of his tongue lapped leisurely, tasting, savoring. I moaned. Loudly. I couldn’t help it. Convinced I was on the brink of madness, I ached. I hurt. The carnal sounds of his mouth comingling with my hedonistic sighs made me restless.
“I want you,” I panted, my fingers in his hair, grabbing and pulling and pushing.
He groaned, slipping two fingers inside me, stroking me in tempo with his tongue.
“Not this way,” I implored, reaching for him, clawing at his shirt, determined to take it off this time.
I wanted him face to face, I wanted his body moving against mine, I wanted his grunts and sighs, the tense and release of his muscles.
“Please, please.” I was so close, so close. I panicked. I didn’t want to be selfish, and coming now felt unfair to him. I wanted his pleasure.
He lifted his mouth from me and placed a wet, suckling kiss on the inside of my thigh, trailing his tongue along the skin and breathing on my center.
“Tell me what you want.”
He was torturing me again. But damn. It hurt so good.
“I want you inside me.” I reached for him.
He evaded me, increasing the tempo of his finger. “I am inside you.”
“Please, Matt. Please. Let me—” I groaned, frustrated but wildly aroused by his wickedness.
“You’re amazing, so beautiful. Touch yourself.” His voice shook slightly as he positioned my hands, one kneading my breast, encouraging me to roll and pinch my nipple, the other replacing his fingers at my center.
I moaned in protest as he moved to stand, so he leaned forward, and whispered in my ear, hot breath and an exorbitant amount of masculine confidence scorching my skin, “Don’t stop. Will you let me watch you touch your perfect body? You’re so sexy.”
Then he stood.
With his eyes on me, and his encouraging words ringing in my ears, I didn’t know how much longer I would last. I felt vulnerable, but oddly empowered by my vulnerability. Matt’s gaze held mine as he pulled his wallet from his pocket, pulling his shirt from his torso, and then finally shoving down his pants and boxers.
I bit back another moan at the sight of him, my sex clenching, because every inch of him—from his long legs to his mad-scientist hair to his seductive mahogany eyes—was perfect to me.
Deftly, he removed a condom from his wallet and ripped it open, discarding the wrapper and rolling it down his hard length. Then he was on me again, but this time he removed my hands from my body without a word, encouraging me to stand and hold on to his shoulders. His mouth crashed down to mine and he picked me up. My legs bracketed his waist as he turned, sitting on the couch with me straddling him.
Instinctively, I rocked against him, needing the friction, needing the feel of him, and shuddered when I felt his erection nudge against my entrance.
He hissed, grabbed my hips, and held me still. His teeth were clenched as he commanded, “Do you want to ride me? Would that make you feel good?”
I nodded, moaning, shifting restlessly as I used him to stroke myself. Matt released his hold on my hips. With one swift movement he positioned me over him and thrust upward, filling me. I gasped, my nails digging into his skin. He felt so good, so right, so necessary. I wanted this to last; I wanted the feel of him beneath me to last forever.
But then he encouraged me to move, to ride him, splaying his hands on my body as he thrust upward with sinuous deliberateness.
“Oh, God.”
“Mmm . . . Do you like that?” He nuzzled my breasts, loving them with soft bites and licks, watching them move and sway with hunger in his gaze as I rolled my hips in time with his.
I liked it. I loved it. Yet I couldn’t turn my mind off. I wanted to know it was good for him, too.
“Matt, please—”
“I could spend all day between your legs.” His hands grew covetous, massaging, cupping my breasts and tugging at my nipples. His words of praise sent spikes of white-hot heat to my core.
I wanted it to last, to last for him. But it was too late.
I splintered with a fierce cry as he thrust into my body faster and faster as I came, making me bounce on his lap. I bowed toward him, holding on as I tensed and tightened and released and pulsed. My eyes were closed against the overwhelming reality of sensation, riding the wave of pure ecstasy until it became an abyss.
But he was there, catching me before I could fall, wrapping me in his arms and holding me close. Matt laid me back on the cushion, his agile form still moving over mine, still moving inside me.
“You’re so lovely,” he said.
My eyelashes fluttered open, our eyes mating along with our bodies.
And then he said, “God, Marie. I’m so in love with you.”
And I stiffened beneath him. My mouth fell open. I stared at him and his words, spoken so earnestly on an anguished exhale.
Too many thoughts.
Too many feelings.
Too big.
Too much.
A rush, a wave, a tsunami.
The earth moved, at least for me it did, it shifted on its axis and left me feeling unsteady. Dizzy. Euphoric. Terrified.
Meanwhile, Matt also stiffened, his movements abruptly ceasing as he blinked, his eyes flaring with panic, clearly just realizing what he’d said.
And what was just as clear? He’d never meant to say it.
“Fuck.” His wide stare moved over my face. I felt him tense, as though he was planning to withdraw.
So I reached for him, I wrapped my legs around his back and held fast to his arms. “No, don’t. Please.”
I lifted my head, kissing his parted lips, smoothing my hands up his arms to knead his shoulders until I felt his body relax. He groaned into my mouth as I rolled my hips, then he angled his chin away until his forehead met mine, separating our lips. His breathing was erratic and, though he once again moved within me, and my body lifted to meet his rhythm, I could tell he was still fighting the surge of panic.
“You feel amazing,” I said, honest in my mindlessness.
The answering tremor in his body told me he liked my words.
The tension at my core built once more. I pushed my fingers into his hair and he answered with an agonized growl. Suddenly, his thrusts became harder, longer, less fluid, and I marveled as his control slipped and then snapped.
A thrill of wonder twisted in my lower belly, spreading to my heart and tightening my throat with emotion as he came, chanting, “I love you.”
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