Page 87 of Our Long Days
There aretwo sides to Dexter Moore.
Protective, assured, yet humble. A man whose loyalty runs bone deep. A gentle giant.
Then, there’s this version.
The coin flips, revealing his dominant side, one that unearthed a version of myself I didn’t know existed until that first night together.
It’s not even that the sex is out of this world. No, it’s that he reads me with ease, knows exactly when to dial it down or push harder. He doesn’t assert dominance because he can, and I don’t submit because I have no other choice. It comes naturally to us, as easy as breathing. Between the electric energy and ardent attraction, unshakeable trust threads us together.
Binding us.
It’s exactly the reason I follow his instructions, moving to my hands and knees. My skin is warm from the shower, but it’s his first touch that ignites me.
Nothing compares to the scratch of those callused palms as they run over my calves or the whisper of facial hair as his lips skim the length of my spine.
As much as I love pushing him and acting out, I’m in no mood to play that game tonight.
I fall to my elbows, exposing myself further. His approval rumbles behind me.
A needy whimper escapes me when two thick fingers plunge into my pussy, already soaked from the knowledge he was watching me in the shower. His thumb swipes through my arousal, coating himself before pressing it to my asshole.
I tense, then relax. He fills me deliciously, coaxing out my pleasure with every stroke and twist. He’s played with my ass plenty, but only ever a finger or two.
The bed dips behind me, creaking with his weight as he lazily pushes in and out of me, easily finding the tender spot that has stars lining my vision. “You’re sure about this?”
“Mm-hmm,” I mumble, teeth clamped around the comforter.
He stops.
“Words. I need your words. Tell meexactlywhat you want me to do.”
Twisting my head so he can see my lips, I rock into him, fucking myself. “I want you to fuck me. Fill me.”
Midnight consumes his irises. “Where do you want me to fuck you? Your tight cunt that’s always dripping for me or…”
A flush paints my body. God, he’s filthy.
“My ass.” The words rush out of me. “I want your cock in my ass and the toy in my pussy.”
“At any point you want to stop, you say so.” He swallows, vulnerability flickering across his features. “In case I don’t hear, pinch me on my leg or arm if you want me to stop.”
“If I do this”—I reach behind me and brush my fingers over his forearm—“it means I’m good. I know you’ll take care of me.”
I resume my position, head down, back arched.
His fingers continue toying with me, curling and stroking,edging me closer. I’m left empty when he withdraws, but it’s quickly forgotten when he picks up the dildo.
He toys with my pussy before slowly sliding inside, pumping in and out.
I hear the squirt of the lube and peek between my spread legs to watch him roll on the condom, coating his length and fingers in lubricant. He spreads my cheeks, and a finger presses in. Then, a second, stretching me.
“You’re doing so well, letting me get you ready for my cock.”
Rapid breaths. Creaking springs. A gasp. A groan.
Each sensation heightens the last.
I inhale sharply when the blunt head of his cock rests against my forbidden hole.
