Encouragement.
My control slips another inch.
I lift her without breaking the kiss, my hands firm beneath her as she responds instantly, wrapping herself around me like she trusts me not to let her fall.
I don’t.
I never will.
Her fingers slide into my hair, holding me close as I carry her toward the stairs. Every step feels unreal. Like I’m walking inside something fragile and impossible.
She pulls back just long enough to breathe.
Her lips find my ear.
“I need you,” she whispers.
Those three simple words are enough to make my hard cock strain painfully against my zip.
I stop in the hallway, pressing her gently against the wall, my hands framing her, not trapping her but holding her there because I need to know she’s real.
She reaches for me again, pulling me back into the kiss before the moment can overwhelm me completely.
This time, I respond without hesitation.
My hands explore carefully, reverently, learning the shape of her. Not rushing. Not claiming. Discovering.
She makes another soft sound, and it fuels something in me I didn’t know I was capable of feeling.
I carry her the rest of the way upstairs.
The bedroom feels different with her in it. Smaller. Fuller. Real.
I lower her onto the bed carefully, unwilling to break contact for even a second longer than necessary.
She looks up at me, her hair spread across the mattress, her breathing uneven, her eyes searching mine for hesitation that never comes.
I lean over her, kissing her again, slower now. Deeper. Letting myself exist fully inside the moment instead of watching it from a distance.
Her hands move across my back, my shoulders, anchoring me.
Encouraging me.
Every instinct that once told me to pull away is silent.
There is only her.
Only this.
I stop just long enough to rest my forehead against hers.
“Are you sure?” I ask quietly.
Not because I doubt her.
Because I respect her.
Her fingers slide along my jaw, steady and certain.