Now I could see him.
Stefan added more lube to his cupped palm, then guided the head of his dick back to my hole, gently sliding it inside me once again.
Except now both of us were moving.
He tilted his hips to fill me, and I rocked back and forth, letting myself sink lower onto his shaft. His hands were on myhips, my waist, helping me to rise and fall, to take more of him into me. I grabbed the headboard with one hand and rocked faster, our lips locked, our kisses constant.
“Good boy,” he murmured against my mouth. And thenhewas moving faster, fucking up into me, holding me still, making me shake with white-hot need.
“Turn around,” he ground out. “I want to watch my cock sliding in and out of that furry arse.”
I knelt up, his shaft freed, and turned, bringing his dick to my hole and impaling myself upon it?—
And saw my reflection in the mirror on his wardrobe door.
I didn’t recognise myself. My face glowed, my chest and neck were flushed red, my dick dark and solid. I could see his cock penetrating me, thick and glistening.
I put my weight on one hand and grabbed my shaft with the other, pulling on it, fucking myself on Stefan’s dick, his hands stroking my back, my thighs, my hips…
“Touch your nipples,” he said with a hasp. “Play with your cock.”
I obeyed, and with each tug, each tweak, I was propelled closer and closer to the edge, until I arched my back and flung out his name as I came all over his sheets, shuddering as my orgasm jolted through me,spearedthrough me, leaving me gasping for breath.
And through it all, Stefan held me, stroking me, caressing me.
When I was totally spent, he began to move again inside me, building speed, his breathing erratic and shallow. “Want to come inside you,” he said, his voice catching in a moan.
“Yes,” I cried out.
Then I felt it, a warmth that spread through me, a throb that felt incredible.
At last, Stefan eased out of me, and I lay beside him, his cock still coated with cum. He held me and kissed me, and little by little, my heart returned to its normal rhythm.
I didn’t want to move.
I didn’t want to lose those strong arms around me.
Stefan
Kieran lay beside me, his breathing still uneven.
I watched him for a moment, the way his chest rose and fell, the way his hand rested loosely against me as if it had simply stopped there and forgotten to move.
I stroked his back, an unconscious movement, as if to confirm he was still there.
I was used to this part, the quiet after, the space where things either deepened or began to pull away. I loved it when the body settled and the mind returned, drawing its lines, restoring its boundaries.
I’d always been good at that, at keeping things where they belonged.
At not letting a moment become more than it was.
So why does this feel different?
Kieran shifted closer, as if proximity was the natural state, not something to be negotiated.
Unexpectedly, I realised I didn’t want to interrupt it.
I closed my eyes for a moment.