Page 102 of Riptide

“You’re sure?” I ask one last time, not because I doubt him, but because he deserves the space to change his mind.

He nods. “Take control, baby. I want to feel you.”

It undoes me.

He lets me guide him, lets me tug the rest of his shorts down, lets me roll him onto his back and kiss every part of him I can reach. I take my time. I want him flushed and trembling, want him so focused on the feel of my hands and mouth and voice that he forgets to overthink the moment.

I move between his thighs, spreading them apart, leaning in and taking his cock into my mouth with one hard and firm suck, my tongue lingering around the tip.

The groan he makes is deep and feels like thunder in the air. I pull off slowly, just to suck the head again with a little more pressure, flicking at the slit until his hips shift up on instinct.He curses under his breath, and when I glance up, his eyes are hooded and heavy, but completely fixed on me.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he mumbles as I sink down taking him to the back of my throat. “Mmm just like that. Swallow around me. Fuuuuuuck,” he hisses when I oblige. He might want me to take control a little here, but I know my man, so I give him some of that control that gets him all hot and bothered too.

I release him with apopand reach for the lube, coat my fingers, and trail them lower. His breath stutters as I circle his rim, his body twitching beneath mine in anticipation. “You want my mouth again?”

“So bad,” he growls. “Open.”

I do, letting him tap himself on my waiting tongue with filthy slaps. I take that opportunity to continue teasing him with my finger before easing in, the tight heat of him pulling me in inch by inch, and his jaw drops open, a soft moan catching in his throat.

“You okay?” I ask.

His eyes are already hazy with lust, a lazy smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah,” he says again, more breath than voice. “I’m good.”

“Can you take more?”

I move my finger around, stretching and prepping him, letting him adjust just as I lower back to take him in my mouth again. It feels so fucking dirty the way he holds the base of himself still and I lap him up. We’ve done this ass play part before, danced around the idea and almost gotten there, but my guy usually can’t last once I hit that spot, so I avoid it for now because I want this to go on longer.

“Yes,” he breathes. “Give me more.”

I push in, adding another finger, while running open-mouthed kisses up and down his shaft. Groaning, his head tips back, his whole body twitching with it, and I take my time working himopen with patience and care, listening for every sound, every breath, every shift.

And when he finally says, “Please,” soft and ragged, I feel myself leaking onto the bed. I scissor my fingers, and his hips push down into my hand, the tension in his thighs changing from resistance to want. I can feel the moment his body yields fully—when the last of that grip he keeps on everything finally slips, and he just lets me have him.

I move off him. “I know,” I say, pulling my fingers out slowly, carefully, watching the way he breathes through the shift. “I’ve got you.”

I pull out a condom, breath shallow and legs nearly giving out beneath me at the sight of him. His sun-kissed skin is flushed, pupils dilated, his entire body curved toward mine like gravity can’t bear to keep us apart.

And then I center myself to him and press in just little. His ass tries to clench around me, and I hiss at the feeling. As I move in slowly, watching him take every inch of me, his body shakes. Mouth dropping open, eyes fluttering closed.

He breathes through it, chest rising, jaw clenched, and I see it all: the effort, the surrender, the way he lets me in, even though this is new and raw and too much and exactly what he wants at the same time.

My hips sink the last inch forward, and I still, buried to the hilt, the heat of him wrapped around me so tight it borders on unbearable. I collapse forward to rest my forehead against his neck, breathing him in, trying not to lose it. “Jesus fucking fuck,” I growl.

He’s so fucking beautiful like this.

Vulnerable and wide open, but never weak. He’s all tension and trust and impossible strength, his body saying yes to me in every way a mouth can’t.

“You have no idea how good this feels right now,” I whisper, barely able to find the air for it.

Arms loop around my hips as he pulls me in, not because I’m slipping, but because he wants more contact, more weight, more of me.

“Move,” he breathes, wrecked and wrecking me. “Please just fuck me.”

So I do.

I want him to feel every shift, every drag and pull and press of it. I want him to know I’m there, not taking, not claiming, just giving him everything he asked for.

His nails rake lightly down my back, and he arches under me, hips lifting just enough to chase the rhythm but never touching himself, and something about that turns me on even more. His sounds are low and breathy and completely unguarded, and the way he says my name, it’s rough and needy and it undoes something within me.

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