I feel the slight curve of a smile against my flesh when he feels it.
"Your heart's going fast," he murmurs, his voice a low, rough vibration that runs through me like a current.
One arm wraps tightly around my lower back, crushing me into him.
"I know," I whisper, my voice sounding wrecked, foreign to my own ears.
"Good fast or bad fast?" He pulls back just an inch, his eyes searching mine, reading every flicker of emotion.
"Good," I choke out, my fingers curling into his hair, pulling him back down. "Please... don't stop."
He doesn't. He lifts me, my legs instinctively locking around his waist, and carries me to the bed.
We hit the mattress in a tangle of limbs and heat.
The air in the room grows thick and humid as we strip away the last of our clothes, our skin sliding against skin.
As he moves over me, I can feel the fine sheen of sweat beginning to coat our bodies, making every touch electric and slick.
I’m frantic, my nails digging deep into the muscles of his shoulders, pulling him closer, needing to be consumed.
He’s patient, but there is a hunger in him now that mirrors my own.
We’re figuring out the language of each other's bodies in real time.
He pays attention to everything—the way my breath hitches when he brushes a thumb over a sensitive spot, the way my hips tilt upward, begging for more.
When he finally slides inside me, the sensation is overwhelming, a sudden, searing fullness that makes me cry out, my head tossing back against the pillows.
I cling to him, my chest heaving, sweat dripping from my forehead and mingling with his.
Every thrust is a heartbeat, every gasp a confession.
The tension builds, a coil tightening in my gut until I can't breathe, can't think, can only feel the friction of his cock filling me and the weight of his body pinning me down.
When I finally come apart, it isn't a sudden explosion.
The walls I've built up all day crack wide open, and everything I've been holding back spills out in a wave of shuddering release.
I shake beneath him, my eyes squeezed shut, my entire body vibrating.
He doesn't pull away. He stays with me, his forehead pressed hard against mine, his breath ragged and hot against my lips.
His own release hits him a second later. I feel his hips stutter, his grip tightening on the sheets beside my head until the fabric groans.
A low, guttural sound ripped from deep in his chest, the kind of sound a man only makes when he's lost control of everything except his body.
We collapse into each other, slick with sweat and exhausted, our hearts still hammering against one another in the sudden, heavy silence of the room.
For the first time all day, the dread is gone. There’s only him.
He rolls to the side, pulling me with him so my head rests on his chest.
His arm settles across my waist. Heavy, warm, present.
Neither of us speaks for a long time.
Ialmosttell him.