He nodded once and headed for my bathroom. He turned on the faucet and slid open a drawer. Then he returned with a small bottle in one hand and a foil packet in the other.
He knew where they were.
“Lie back, gorgeous.” He was back, and he was naked.
I stretched out on the couch, tugging off my t-shirt. He sat, pulled one of my legs over his lap, and uncapped the bottle. Clear gel glistened on his fingertips.
“This’ll be cold for about a second, but in the end you’ll forgive me.”
The chill of it sent a tremor through me, but it warmed quickly as his finger circled, testing. He watched my face the entire time, reading me with quiet precision.
“Tell me if I hurt you. I need a verbal. The strong, silent thing is hot, but it’s not useful now.”
“You’ll know.”
A light grin. “I bet I will.”
His finger slipped inside, curling slightly, finding the spot on the first pass. My hips jerked.
“Again.”
He complied, adding a second finger, opening me with patience. His other hand moved up to my chest, the pad of his thumb finding a nipple and dragging across it slowly. I bit the inside of my lip to stifle any sound.
“No, no. None of that.” His voice dropped, coaxing. “I want to hear you, Dane. I came all the way to the North End in the rain. Let me hear you.”
“You followed me here because I said yes.”
He laughed and curled his fingers again. I lost my next breath. I arched my back off the couch, and the sounds I’d been holding back tumbled out, ragged and loud.
“There he is,” Farrow murmured. “Thank you.”
He leaned over and kissed me again, swallowing the rest of my sounds, while his fingers pushed deeper. Finally, he pulled them out and tore open the foil packet. He rolled the condom down the length of his cock, his eyes never leaving me.
“Ready?”
I nodded.
He positioned himself between my legs, one hand guiding his cock. The pressure stopped my breath for a moment, a low ache building as he pushed forward, head slipping past my ring. I gripped his shoulders, fingernails digging in.
“Breathe,” he whispered, his blond hair falling against my face. “I’ve got you. Breathe for me.”
I exhaled, forcing my muscles to relax. He stroked my thigh. When he pushed deeper, I opened up under him.
“Fuck, Dane.” His voice had gone uneven, and I caught a small flicker of satisfaction in the tone. I’d made his control waver.
He filled me completely and held there. Sweat beaded at his hairline and ran down his throat, catching in the hollow above his collarbone. I traced the path with my fingertips, and his eyes closed for a half-second.
“Move,” I said.
He withdrew slowly, then pushed back in. He settled into a slow, consistent pace. The pleasure of it spread outward into my body, and somewhere in the next few thrusts, my concentration flickered, subtle dissociation taking my head into the clouds.
“There?”
“Fuck,” I breathed. “Yes. There.”
“Yeah. I see you.”
He didn’t lean into his rhythm the way he could have. He didn’t increase his pace.