She released a nervous puff of breath and nodded, replying too quickly. “Of course!”
He nodded in turn, but his gaze was dubious. “Good.” He took the foil condom and ripped it with his teeth. She jumped at the sound. “You seem a little skittish.” He reached between their bodies, rolling on the condom.
“I’m not.” She swallowed and tried to steady her shaking voice. “I’ve done this lots of times . . .” Her voice faded at the bald-faced lie.
“Yeah?” He settled his elbows beside her head and pressed a lingering openmouthed kiss to her neck. “How many times?” There was a teasing quality to his husky voice that told her it didn’t matter one way or another to him. He wasn’t judging her. He just doubted she was telling the truth. And he would be correct. She might not be a virgin but she was hardly an expert at this kind of thing.
“Well, I never kept an exact r-record. I’m not you. But I’ve done it oh, plenty of times with my ex-boyfriend.”
“Yeah?” His teeth sank down on her earlobe and heat shot straight to her core. She moaned, arching up against him. “You and this ex did this a lot?” he growled.
She felt him then, directly between her thighs, prodding and rubbing against her sex. The throb only intensified there. It occurred to her that it probably wasn’t a good idea in this moment to appear more experienced than she was. He would have evidence to the contrary soon enough.
His mouth nibbled along her jaw and then he was kissing her again.
“Maybe not a lot,” she admitted between messy, gasping, decadent kisses. “And it’s been a while—”
He stopped rubbing and prodding. Her eyes flared as she felt the fullness of him pushing inside her. She stiffened against the sudden invasion, her hands flying to his arms. She’d never felt anything like him before. Not that her frame of reference was so extensive, but this was shattering. She felt stunned at the sensation. Her fingers dug into his biceps, probably leaving scars.
“It’s definitely been a while,” he growled. “God, you’re tight, sweetheart.”
She released a huff of breath, feeling herself stretch to accommodate his size.
“Almost there,” he added, his voice strained, almost unrecognizable.
“Almost?” she choked. “You’re not going to fit.”
“Don’t worry, baby. You’re made for me.” He slid all the way home with a groan, dropping his head into her neck, his voice rumbling against her skin. “Faith,” he breathed her name against her skin. “You feel so good—”
She inhaled a bracing breath, adjusting to the sheer size of him throbbing in her.
He looked down at her. “Are you okay?”
“Y-yes. Just been a while.” She inhaled and exhaled a few times. “And you’re . . . different than what I’m used to.” Bigger.
He grinned his sexy smile that made her stomach flip over. “You’ll get used to me.”
You’ll get used to me.
And that only made her stomach flip again. Heat spread across her face, like ants creeping down her neck and chest.
She didn’t have time to consider that and what it meant. There was only action and reaction. Pleasure and sensation.
She fidgeted under him, cutting off whatever he was going to say. She was past the point of needing time to acclimate to the size of him. Right now she just wanted friction and pressure. Inner muscles she’d never even known she possessed clenched around him.
It was all the prompting he needed. With a groan, he lifted his head and withdrew to plunge back inside her. She cried out, and then he was thrusting again, hammering deep, giving her no time to recover. It was a constant barrage of sensation.
And he didn’t stop there. He bent his head, lifting one breast and drawing the nipple deep, sucking and scoring it lightly with his teeth.
Her sex hugged the pulsing length of him, and she moaned at this incredible fullness wedged so tightly inside her that she felt like he was a part of her. As though there was no deciphering where he ended and she began. She arched her throat on a moan.
“Ah, is this what you wanted?” he spoke against the curve of her breast.
She nodded and rolled her head, tangling her hair under her. “Yes.” This was everything she had wanted.
Her ruin and salvation.
“You are milking my cock, sweetheart,” he panted.
She tossed her head in a wild nod and worked her hips under him, willing him to move faster, harder, to give her more. “Yes.”
He watched her darkly as he pinched her nipple between strong fingers, sending an arrow of lancing sensation right to where their bodies joined.
She cried out.
He pulled out and then pushed back inside her. Still controlled. Still steady. He kept it up, creating an even tempo of friction that had her writhing and moaning beneath him.
“What?” His voice grew harder, louder in her ear. “What do you want, Faith?”
“Harder.”
His eyes darkened. It was like he was waiting for her to say that.