His irises shone darker now, with a look that was becoming familiar too, in its own way.
His bedroom eyes.
He shifted behind me, sliding a hand from the small of my back up my spine, sending shivers through me. When he reached my neck, he scooped my hair away, brushing kisses along my skin, then nipping. “As much as I want to spread you out on your back and have you wrap your legs around me, that’s not what I’m going to do. Know why?”
“Why?” I asked, knowing the answer, but loving the game, savoring the questions.
“Because that’s not what your list is about. You’re not a missionary girl, and I am going to take you the way you want. Fuck me hard, fuck me good, fuck me for the first time,” he gritted out, reciting the words from my list.
“Oh God, yes,” I said, sinking deeper into the moment.
“And you know how you want it. You scripted it. You wrote it down.” His hand curled around my neck, gripping me tighter.
I gasped, knowing what was coming. “I want it that way. I want number nine.”
His mouth found my ear, and his voice was rougher than I’d ever heard it before. More demanding. “Then say it. Say it out loud. Tell me how you want me to take you for the first time.”
I shuddered, drawing a deep breath, needing fuel to say the words. But when you’ve spent all your sex life in your head, detailing your fantasies, building them, crafting them, and creating worlds around them, it turns out it’s not that hard to give voice to them at last. “Push me down on the bed. Pin me in place so I can’t move. Do it hard. And do it now. Please, Adam, do it now.”
The sound that rumbled up his chest was animalistic. It was obscene, and it thrilled me. His desire rocketed mine to another level.
The pulse beating between my legs turned into a needy throb, an insistent ache to be filled.
“Say it again. Beg me,” he ordered, pushing my face into the pillows.
My knees were tucked beneath me, my stomach arched, my breasts flat against the bed, my cheek against the pillow. I was under his control, and I was outrageously wet.
I wanted him to know how much. To see my desire. “Please, Adam. I’m begging you. I want you so much. I’m so turned on. I’m so wet I can’t take it.” I craned my neck to look at him, no easy feat since his hand was curled around me, pinning me in place. “Please.”
His eyes turned feral. “One more time, dirty girl. Give it to me one more time.”
My body shook with desire. I ached everywhere, desperate for him to slide inside me.
“Please, Adam. Please!” I cried out.
And that was enough for him.
With his hand still wrapped around my neck, he moved between my legs, pushing my knees wider so they were tucked alongside my body. I was his. His to enter, his to have.
I was giving him myself, and he was going to take me to the other side of desire.
He rubbed the head against my wetness, and I ignited. A moan fell from my lips.
“You’re so wet, dirty girl. So soft,” he said, praising me.
I’d miss that too when it was gone—his praise. Because his bedroom compliments sent me to another world, and I was already living on an erotic cloud nine.
Maybe this was cloud nine thousand.
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.
And wonderful.
“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.”
“Never.”
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.
Welcoming him.
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.