He pushed farther, breaching me, the head inside me. I tensed. This was it. My God, this was happening. I wasn’t working a vibrator; I wasn’t sliding the rabbit inside me. The real thing was different, so damn different.
“You okay, baby?” he asked.
“I’m good,” I said, then willed myself to relax again. I wanted this more than anything. “Don’t stop, Adam. Please don’t stop.”
He pulled back, and I was empty for a second, but that second ended when he thrusted deeper, filling me a few more inches.
I felt my body stretching, adjusting.
Because that was what I wanted. To welcome him inside my body. All the way.
“More,” I whispered, so eager, even if it hurt the slightest bit.
“You want it all, dirty girl? You ready for all of me now?”
“Yes,” I said, breathless, trembling, my whole body brimming with need.
He lowered his body, covering me, then brought his lips to my cheek. “Then take it, baby. Take all of me.”
And he thrust all the way in.
I cried out. From the momentary slice of pain. From the sensation of being stretched to the limit. But before he could even ask if I was okay, and I knew deep in my bones that he would, I cut in. “I’m good. So good.”
And I could feel him smile against my skin, his voice soft as he whispered, “That’s what I wanted to hear.”
Then he moved in me, pulling back, pushing in, finding a pace, following my cues.
They weren’t hard to read. I was an open book, moaning and groaning and panting out yeses and just like thats and oh my Gods.
At one point, he pulled out so far that only the tip was still in me, and I squirmed, begging for more of him. “Please,” I cried.
And he delivered the most devastating thrust, filling me to the hilt, bottoming out inside me. He was so deep in me that it was as if we’d always been doing this, always been coming together. “Oh God, Nina,” he groaned, sending a new wave of pleasure crashing over me.
It was the first time he’d said my name when we were naked. And I heard so much in it. Wishes and wants. Needs and desires. Or maybe I just wanted to hear that.
That had to be it.
I wanted to believe he felt the same things I did. That wild horses were running away with his heart too.
Maybe I needed to feel it in this moment.
And because I did, I needed something else entirely.
As my body sparked, I whispered his name against the pillow then asked a question. “Can you flip me over? I want to be on my back.”
He stilled inside me.
He didn’t answer at first. Only breathed hard, his cheek against mine.
He relinquished his hold on my neck, freeing me to move my face closer to his. I offered him my lips, believing in a new fantasy.
Believing in the possibility of us.
He drew a gasping breath, then he crushed my lips in a fierce, passionate kiss that felt so out of this world I wanted to cry. From the ecstasy of a kiss like that.
Seconds later, he broke the kiss, sliding out of me smoothly, then shifting me to my back.
In that position, I parted my legs for him. Wide, open, ready.
Yes, this was my new dream. To have him like this, where I could let myself fall deeper into the make-believe. Into the fantasy that we were coming together on another level.
I reached for him, lifting my arms to his shoulders, around his neck, bringing him closer.
I never thought I’d want sex like this.
This ordinary, normal, everyday position.
But it wasn’t a want. It was an aching need.
And he filled it as he filled me, gliding back inside seamlessly, stretching my body to the limits.
He met my gaze, and the look in his eyes staggered me. The intensity, the passion written in them matched everything I felt inside.
Or maybe I was imagining it. Maybe I was writing that for him. Yes, that had to be it. I was creating a new fantasy and weaving it around us. I’d do well to remember it was only in my head.
I had to listen to my body, so I did.
As instinct took over, I wrapped my legs around him, and he swiveled his hips, rocking deeper. Our bodies melted together; our sounds mirrored each other. As we moved like this, in perfect harmony, I ran my fingers up the taut muscles of his back, over his toned biceps, and across his neck. I was committing the feel of him under my fingertips to memory.
I’d want to recall this moment forever, I was sure.
My hands became my camera, snapping shot after shot of him through the lens of touch.
And as pleasure radiated through my cells, sweeping across every molecule, the enormity of my choice flashed before me like a neon sign.