It’s too much, the wet heat of it, the obscene sound of it in the quiet room, the pressure winding so tight in my belly it feels violent.
I break.
My thighs clamp around his shoulders. My vision whites out. He doesn’t stop. He works me through it, drags every aftershock out of me until I’m shaking and gasping and too wrecked to do anything but feel him.
Then he comes back up. Moves over me. His skin is damp. His mouth is wet. His eyes lock on mine and hold.
His lips are swollen, glossy with me, and the sight of it goes straight through my already-oversensitive body. He lookswrecked enough that I know this isn’t just about me coming. It’s about him finally getting what he’s been trying not to want.
“That’s what I needed,” he says, voice rough enough to scrape.
My breath catches.
I fist my hands in his hair and drag him back down because I need his mouth. Need to taste myself on him. Need something I don’t have language for.
He gives it to me. Kissing me deep and dirty, letting me taste exactly what he did to me, and I moan into his mouth hard enough that he answers with a sound that feels like another hand all over me.
He shifts his hips between my thighs. All of him hot and impossibly hard, nudging against my pussy. The first drag of him against me pulls a helpless sound out of my throat.
“Don’t close your eyes,” he says. “Look at me.”
I do.
His hand slides up my stomach, over my breast, thumb rough over my nipple, and his eyes don’t leave mine. The head of him presses in and the stretch is immediate, sharp enough to make me gasp. He doesn’t rush it. Doesn’t go easy either. Just keeps going, inch by thick inch, watching my face the whole time like he wants every second of it.
“That’s it,” he says. “Take it.”
I grip his shoulders harder.
He bottoms out with a rough, wrecked sound. “Fuck,” he says. “There you are.”
I’m split around him, every nerve lit. My hands lock on his arms. My whole body goes tight with the effort of taking him.
“Jax—”
“I know.” He kisses me once, hard. “I know.”
He pulls out slow, thrusts back in, and my breath breaks.
“You’re taking me so fucking good,” he says, voice low. “You hear me?”
I nod.
“That’s it, Nova.”
Then he starts moving. Long pulls. Hard thrusts. Deep enough to make my voice break every time he comes back in. The bed shifts under us, skin slapping wet in the quiet room, his breathing roughening with mine until there’s no rhythm in the world except what he’s doing to me.
“You feel that?” he says.
I can barely answer.
He angles his hips and hits something that makes my entire body jerk.
“There,” he says, like he’s been waiting to find it. “That’s the one.”
He goes back to it again. Again. Every thrust hard enough to make my thoughts scatter, every drag of him out somehow worse than the next push back in.
“Fuck, Nova,” he says, forehead against mine now, breath hot and broken. “You feel so fucking good.”