Sucking one of her nipples into his mouth was pretty much the worst thing he could have done.
Yet he went ahead and did it anyway. He swirled his tongue around one tight peak, and as soon as he did pleasure punched through her. She moaned his name, so clearly wanting more it felt spelled out in neon.
However, he still didn’t seem inclined to go any further.
It was she who had to prompt him to get a condom, and even after he’d managed to find a serviceable one he still looked strange. His whole body was shuddering, hard enough to make his teeth chatter. She had to put her hands on his face to calm him down—though it had very little effect. He still fumbled with the foil and fucked it up a dozen times, until she simply had to step in.
Partly because her patience was at an end.
But mostly because holy fuck was it hot to see him behave this way. For a brief moment, he wasn’t Tate Sullivan, Super Stud Sexual Expert. He was Tate Sullivan, awkward virgin. He knew no more about what he was doing than she did—less than that, in fact. Her hands weren’t shaking as she opened the packet. They didn’t even shake when she rolled the condom over his insanely hard cock.
However, his were still shaking when she asked him to take off the rest of his clothes. He could barely get out of his T-shirt. She had to help him with his jeans, but when she did the trembling only got worse. “I’m going to go off if you touch me one more time,” he said, and she had to be honest. She knew exactly how he felt. Just hearing him say it was arousing enough. But combined with all the rest of it, with his sudden awkwardness and the sense of anticipation all tight and heavy in the air and then him over her…
Jesus, he was big over her.
Sometimes he was so different, so weird and smart and kind, that she forgot his cock was enormous. But she remembered it now, and for the first time truly reveled in it. She ran her hands up the arms he put on either side of her, feeling every plane and knot. Feeling the power there, held so carefully in check—and knowing that he held it for her.
It made her want to grin wildly and cry all at the same time.
In truth she probably would have if she hadn’t felt him brush the head of his cock over her slick slit.
After which, all other considerations fell by the wayside. All she could think about from then on was the pure sensation of him, sliding back and forth through her slick folds. The deliberation of it, the care he took—and of course the terrible fucking tease it soon became. After a second she was almost holding her breath, and doubly so whenever the swollen head of his cock grazed her entrance. Sometimes he did it slow and sometimes he did it fast, but it was always delicious agony.
Though it was his gaze that really got her. The one he locked on her the moment he started whatever this was, eyes wide and shot through with a million emotions she had never imagined he would feel. It felt like she was supposed to be nervous, she was supposed to be scared. But it was his brows that were knotted in the middle and his teeth sunk deep into his lower lip. He was the one who cursed and dropped his head—partly, she thought, because of the sensation.
Oh god yeah, the sensation was definitely getting to him.
But it was mainly the other stuff. She knew it was, before he even confirmed.
“I can’t, I can’t, I don’t want to hurt you,” he gasped, and she wondered if he knew what it sounded like.
More like I don’t want to seem as if I hate you than hurt you.
And especially after she replied.
“You won’t. I trust you. Go on.”
His expression shifted the moment she did, that frown dissolving down into the sweetest sort of relief she had ever seen. It looked to her like he’d been waiting for a hint of it for a thousand years, and now that he had it he could finally rest. He could just give in to everything he was feeling, without restraint or hesitation. No holding back anymore—and good god, was she ever grateful for that.
Just the feel of him easing into her—astonishingly painless and as easy as anything—was enough to leave her wasted. But the way he surrounded her with his arms as he did it, the way he kissed her, as though barely able to contain his affection and gratitude—it was beyond anything she thought sex could be. For the first time, she understood the connection between the physical and the emotional. Every hint of his tenderness toward her fueled the pleasure sparking between her legs, and every spark of pleasure made her cling to him tighter.