Page 21 of The Tryst

Once I relax, I lower myself more.

Wriggling. Adjusting.Breathing.

“You good?” he asks.

Mostly. “I think so.”

He’s stretching me. I feel full and he’s not even all the way in.

“Take all the time you want. We can stop anytime,” he says, like he’s a first times sex guide I ordered on the Internet—I’ll have one night with a sexy, caring, older man who can go all alpha on me in bed and then take care of me out of bed too. Ideally, he’ll be dirty and tender.

His big hands curl around my hips, but he doesn’t grip tight. He just waits patiently.

I inhale, then I sink down all the way.

It’s intense. I feel him everywhere. He’s nothing like a vibrator. This is worlds better, especially since he seems so enrapt, gazing at me with hooded eyes and a tight jaw.

The way he stares washes the last remnants of discomfort away.

I let a smile take over my face as I rise up, then sink down.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this,” he grits out, and his hands glide up my back into my hair, his fingers roping through my strands possessively.

“Was this how you pictured me?” I ask, wrapping my hands around his neck, my breasts grazing his pecs.

“Yes,” he says, his eyes traveling all over me, freely gazing at my face, my tits, my stomach, my legs.

And where we connect.

“Look at you. You look so perfect on my cock,” he adds.

And I feel…perfect too.

Nick lets go of my hair, gripping my hips. Like that, he guides me along, helping me find just the right angle, just the right pace.

Soon, we hit a rhythm.

He pumps up into me, and I grind down on him. I’d expected it to hurt, but I’m so aroused, so ridiculously wet, that I just feel stretched in the best of ways. It’s deep and delicious all at once as I ride this stranger’s cock into the night. But Nick hardly feels like a stranger. He’s my perfect lover.

He gets a hand between us, and he’s stroking my clit now, rubbing me intently.

My toes tingle. My pulse surges. And I ache.

Then I gasp as an orgasm wrecks me, so powerfully that I spin out. Or maybe the world does. Or my orgasm is my world. I don’t even know anymore. I just feel…wild.

And beautiful.

I fall into bliss on him, crying out as this release washes over me for several seconds, maybe minutes—I don’t even know.

When I open my eyes again, still moaning from the aftershocks, he’s thrusting up into me, punching his hips.

Till he tenses, then groans a long, dirty sound as he comes too.

I collapse against his big chest, wrapping my arms around him and basking in the glow. He runs a hand down my back, soothing and reassuring.

I want more of him tonight. I want to feel these arms, these hands, his strength.

I’m still bathing in endorphins, but through the fog, a worry digs into my brain. Is this it? Do I leave now? We said no expectations, so perhaps the night is over.

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