I sigh as our tongues twine, slow and silken, as he mutters quietly, “So beautiful. You were so beautiful. You are. God, Kate.”
I cup his jaw and kiss him. “So are you,” I whisper. I reach for him, thick, velvet soft yet so hard and hot, guiding him to me. “Please don’t make me wait anymore.”
He groans, dropping his forehead to my shoulder, kissing me there.
Then he eases away, reaching for the nightstand again. He pours a drizzle of lube on his fingers, then brings it between my legs and works them gently inside, making me gasp.
“Put your leg around my hip,” he says as I settle my head against one of his bent arms holding him over me, as his hand cups my head, his fingers sink into my hair.
I throw my leg over his hip, a whimper leaving me as it makes every sensitized inch of me brush against his length.
“Breathe for me,” he whispers as he leans in for a kiss, his fingers doing sweet, wonderful things inside me, curving forward, finding that spot that made my legs give out when I leaned against the bathroom door after paintball. Thankfully, this time I’m lying down.
I drop my forehead to his jaw and cling to his arm. He shivers when I do, and I’m reminded how much he’s given me, how much I want to give him, too—the touch he loves, the pleasure he deserves.
“Should I do this?” I ask, drifting my hands down his arm, to the round, full muscles of his backside, lower down his thighs.
He groans and nods. “Yes. Everywhere. Just touch me.”
I rest against the pillow of his arm as his fingers play with my hair, as his other fingers coax my body to open, to ache for him to fill it. And I touch him, too, his chest, his nipples, the dark, lovely trail of hair down his stomach, the thick muscles of his thighs, the tight, soft weights of his balls, rubbing them, savoring their feel as he moans against my mouth and brings his fingers finally from my body, wet and warm, and rubs my clit.
Then he’s there, slowly easing in, just a little, before he stops, watching my wide eyes, the breath heaving from my lungs. I have no idea how the physics of this is supposed to work. But I trust him.
He bends and kisses me again, but this time feels different, the tenderness of his lips brushing mine, the sweet, sensual stroke of his tongue. I’m so dazed and distracted by these kisses, the discomfort of him easing deeper inside me remains peripheral, dull and dim.
“You okay?” he asks.
I nod. “So good. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
He kisses me, and his hand curves around my backside, drawing me down on him, filling me. “There. That’s it, honey. You’re there.”
I gasp, tears pricking my eyes as I feel the weight of his body, fully inside me, not out of pain but out of sheer, heartrending joy. Before he can worry about those tears, I wrap an arm around him and pull him tight to me, my mouth finding his hungrily. I need to be as close to him as I can be, I need his body to be a part of mine and mine a part of his.
Slowly, he starts to move, each stroke inside me uncoiling spool after spool of molten pleasure.
“Kate,” he gasps, drawing me close, kissing me deeply, our mouths open and panting, our tongues like our bodies, working in a rhythmic, hazy, hot glide.
His hand slips between us and his thumb rubs me gently, quickly pulling wetness from what our bodies are making. “Christopher,” I tell him. “I’ve come twice, you don’t have to worry—”
I’m kissed into silence. He shakes his head. “Need you with me.”
His eyes hold mine as those words echo through me. Need you with me.
“I’m with you,” I tell him, giving him his own promise, laid at his feet, “for as long as you’ll have me.”
He breathes roughly, then crushes me to him and rubs me harder, kissing me frantically, teeth and tongue and gasps of air. Settling more of his weight on me, he starts to move faster, deeper. His eyes find mine.
I feel it then, this place inside me that I didn’t know, that I hadn’t discovered, but he has. And, entirely out of my control, a sharp, desperate cry wrenches from my throat, then another. I can’t speak, can’t say how beyond anything I imagined this is, but he knows. I see it in how he looks at me, in how his mouth falls open, too, and harsh, rough sounds leave him, too, sounds I’ve never heard, that say unbearable pleasure and need and losing himself to the mercy of his body with mine.
My eyes flutter shut, but he pulls me closer, his hand tight in my hair. “Stay with me, Kate, please.”
I open my eyes as I feel him thicken inside me, hear him call my name and hold us together as I fall apart, as my release pours through me like liquid light, a pyrotechnic shower of sparks, glittering white-hot as they course through my body in time with him as he moves, as he shouts my name and fills my body in hot, wet punches of his hips.