Who knew weak could be good? Could be…everything.
He stepped out of the shower, his fingers trailing off her skin, and everything got so much colder even as he flipped off the water.
But then he grabbed a towel from a crooked-hanging cabinet and wrapped it around her shoulders, rubbing the rough fabric into the wet ends of hair that hung down her back.
The heat was back, with his hands rubbing circles on her back, his cock brushing her hip, the memory of it deep inside her mouth, inside of her.
“Come on, Cowgirl.” He led her to the hallway, and she let him do it. Because it felt nice to be led. Refreshing. Rejuvenating.
“Please don’t make a riding joke,” she said.
He flashed that lethal grin. “Not even one?”
“Surely you’ve got better lines than that.”
He nudged her into his room, closer and closer to the bed, his eyes never leaving hers. The light from the hallway poured in, but otherwise the room was dark, his eyes were dark, his face a mix of shadows and light.
He stood there, hands on her shoulders, gaze on hers. They were naked and wet and he was just staring at her. She didn’t like that look, the “she was the center of the world” look. It felt so much bigger than hot as sin sex. It felt like…everything.
No, she didn’t like that at all, so she dropped the towel and stepped to him, pressing against him. Everything. Body. Mouth. Stepped into the fire. Surely he was fire, burning away everything that kept her whole, but she didn’t want to be whole anymore. She wanted to be a million shattered pieces, and he could do that.
She pulled him onto the bed, a tangle of limbs, her arms reaching out blindly for the drawer where he kept the condoms. She fumbled and missed, but his arm was longer and more on point. Still something rattled off the nightstand when he jerked the door open, but it didn’t stop him from kissing her, from using his other hand to hold her in place underneath him.
She would gladly be held here for eons. That big strong hand making her feel as though it was all that mattered. Him, holding her there. His fingers and palm a vice from which pulls of pleasure wound through her limbs.
Weak. Yes, weak was good. Weak was an amazing contrast to strong.
“I will return the favor, but for now, I need to be inside you.”
She had no idea how he said those things so easily, so…all sexy growly that made her feel like that was the only possible thing she could ever want. She could do that. She might not know how he did it, but she could be that in the moment. She took the condom packet from him and tore it open. “Say what you said out there.”
“What did I say out there?” he asked, hissing out a breath as she worked shaking hands to roll the latex over him.
“That…” No consequences, no embarrassment. She asked for what she wanted, and he gave it. She finished rolling the condom on, determined not to chicken out. “That… That you need to fuck me.” Just saying the word with his eyes on her made her pulse jump, the ache between her thighs throb with need. But it would be nothing compared to him saying it. To him doing it.
He groaned, but not the kind that made her feel stupid. It was a groan that made her feel powerful. He would give her what she asked for because they wanted the same thing. She might be weak and small compared to him, but that was part of it. He didn’t need her to be strong. He simply needed her. She led him to her, but he pulled away.
“Roll over,” he instructed.
He groaned again when she did so, his rough hands roaming the curve of her ass. There had never been anything like this, like him, like the recklessness bouncing around like pinballs inside of her.
His hands moved back up to her hips, gripping her there in the way that made her stomach flip, the way that had her arching her back for more. She wanted to be held and grabbed and led. Who knew?
“Tell me if you don’t like it,” he said in that growly sex voice.
“I-I’m okay,” she replied, hearing what sounded like nerves and knowing it was anything but. It was desperation. She was shaking with it.
He slid inside her, slow, deep, and she had to grasp the rumpled comforter and press her forehead into the bed just to keep from crying out. It was as though where they met was the only thing that existed, that sharp slide of pleasure.
“Still just okay?” he asked, humor lilting the low rumble of his voice, but the pressure on her hips where he held her was anything but humorous. It was centering. It was everything.
“Could take it or leave it,” she managed, but every tremble of her voice, the way she couldn’t help but push her ass against him when he tried to withdraw…yeah, there was no way he didn’t know it was a joke.