His chin, dusted with dark blond scruff, was shining with my cum, his lips plump and dark. He stood, giving me a view of his body as he stepped out of his jeans. He was more perfect than anything I’d ever seen, ever known. His body wasn’t sculpted by the gods, but by a goddess who knew what a woman like me needed. His body was broad but not lean. His ab muscles werepacked but not cut, not defined. His arms were defined, huge, just like his legs, strong like the trees in the forests, weathering every storm. His abs were dusted with the same hair covering his jaw, dark blond curls trailing all the way down, surrounding his thick, beautiful cock. I watched, holding my breath, as he stroked roughly. His abs tensed as he tried to control himself.
Blinking, I lifted my eyes to his. “You’re the most perfect creature I’ve ever seen, Hayes Mitchell.”
“Jesus,” he bit off, his head falling back for a moment. When he looked back at me, his eyes were on fire. “Is this what you need? To see me come apart for you?”
I nodded, my hand going to my clit, rubbing it in circles. “I never got to see all of you,” I confessed.
He groaned and leaned over me, bracing his free hand beside my head, still fucking himself. I looked down, watching our hands move in time together, both of us pleasuring our bodies for each other. A broken moan left me as I took in the sight.
“That’s it,” he praised. “That’s it, Margo. See what I see.”
I lifted my head, brushing my lips against his, my knees touching his sides. “What do you see?”
“Perfect imperfection,” he whispered, groaning at the end of it.
We held each other’s eyes, chasing it, the truth we needed. “Hayes,” I breathed, my soaked fingers circling faster, harder.
“Gonna come apart for you, baby,” he rasped, his hips pumping into his hand now, the tip of his cock hitting my mound with every thrust.
“Come apart,” I urged softly, cupping his face. “Give me all of you and I’ll give you all of me.”
His face twisted in a mix of agony and pleasure. His eyes closed, and suddenly, my hand was slapped away, my hips yanked up as he rose back up and slammed his cock into me. I cried out, my climax hitting me as his thick cock stretchedme. My walls tightened around him, clamping down as my body shook, trembling with wave after wave of pleasure.
“Christ, this cunt,” he pushed out, his fingers flexing at my hips.
He didn’t give me any reprieve, not even a breath before he pulled out and thrust back into the hilt.
My moans filled the room in time with his harsh grunts, our skin slapping together in a rushed melody of desire. He kept my lower half in the air, fucking me with abandon, staring down at our connection as if it was the most precious thing in the world. I stared at him, savoring the way he tilted his head to the side, his eyes studying the way he fucked me.
“The way you take me, Temper,” he murmured through his harsh breaths, “drives me insane.”
I nodded, reaching for him. “I need you,” I rasped, my breath hitching with the slam of his hips.
He fell on top of me then, his arms sliding under me, his cock still inside. My legs wrapped around his waist, my arms around his neck, and I held on for dear life.
With a low growl, he managed to keep our bodies connected as he moved us up the mattress. My head sank into the pillows as he buried his face in my neck, his hips slowly pumping. The rhythm was foreign to me. Sex, to me, had always been about pleasure. Helping the other person find theirs as I found mine. Sex with Hayes had been the opposite. He didn’t need my help; he was more concerned about me than him.
But this—this slow and tender pace allowed a tightness to manifest in the center of my chest, where his heart hovered above my own.
“Never thought I’d be here again,” he murmured. “Never thought, after having you once, I’d need you this much.”
“Don’t leave me again, Mitchell,” I whimpered, my nails scraping against his scalp.
He didn’t change his tempo, even though I needed him to. I needed him to fuck me. I could handle being fucked, but I couldn’t handle being cherished. Not like this. Not by him.
I swallowed, tears blurring my view of the ceiling fan.
The truth, laced through the warm morning sunlight, illuminated us. For the first time in my life, the truth didn’t feel like a heavy burden that would drag me down.
It felt like salvation.
It felt like freedom.
Hayes wasn’t fucking me—he was making love to me.
His words, a whisper in the morning light, tattooed themselves on my skin, into the wings of my butterfly. “I’ve never needed anyone before.”
Another admission.