Page 104 of Not That Complicated

“Squeaky clean, thank you.”

“That’s not what I was asking, Ray.”

“I am getting impatient. There was mention of you fucking me a while back. Do we have a timeline on that yet, or...?”

He threw the washcloth at the bathroom door, climbed on the bed, and shuffled me around until I was lying in the middle. He stretched out over me.

“Are we done negotiating kinks?” I said.

“No. But you’re not shaking any more, and you’re looking at me like you want to kiss my face off. I think we’re good to go.”

“What? I wasn’tshaking. What?”

He rubbed a hand up and down my arm and didn’t respond. Scowling, I cupped his cheek and brought him closer.

“I like your face,” I told him somewhat grumpily.

“Good to hear.”

I kissed him, bit him on the chin, and said, “Will you please, please fuck me?”

“My pleasure,” he said.

Adam gathered my hands in his and stretched my arms out over my head. He kneed my thighs apart and slipped between them. I immediately yanked against his hold. “Condom,” I said.

“It’s on.”

“It is?”

He pulled one of my hands down, lifted up enough that I could get it between our bodies, and drew back a little. “See?”

I patted him on the condom-covered dick. “Proceed.”

“How did you not notice me putting it on?” he asked, hauling my arm back up. He pulled it tighter and I was deliciously stretched.

“I was looking at your face.”

“My face which you like.”

“That’s the one.”

“More than my dick.”

“I mean...let’s hold off on any grand sweeping statements until I have actual experience of your dick. We haven’t really become acquainted yet.”

His smile edged with that little flicker of meanness that saved him from being too much perfection in one package. He reached down, positioned himself between my legs and, holding my wide gaze, thrust in in one smooth, merciless glide.

“Ohhh,” I said. Yes, he’d prepared me better than I’d ever been prepared in my life and he slid in like I’d been created to his proportions but that didn’t mean I didn’t feel it. I did. From my scalp to the soles of my feet, I felt it.

It was nothing like him fingering me open. That had been overwhelming. This—our eyes locked, him buried deep inside, the careful, relentless possession that he’d been taking since we walked into the bedroom what felt like a lifetime ago—this was beyond overwhelming.

Something inside me shifted. My vision flickered. My heart threw out a succession of out-of-rhythm beats.

And then he started to move, still gazing down at me.

There was triumph there. Like I said, he wasn’t perfect. Part of him had won something he’d been hunting down for a while now and he wasn’t afraid to show it. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction. And then he came out and said it, because that’s the kind of man he was. “I’ve got you,” he said.

It sounded like something else altogether.

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