My chest heaved, the aftershocks of that first explosion still trembling through my hips. I could feel the warmth of his seed coating my cheeks, sticky and heavy, a messy badge of our first time. He was waiting below, his cock still thick and twitching in his hand, eyes dark with a hunger that hadn't faded. I didn't want to stop. I couldn't. I grabbed his hips, fingers digging into the muscle, and hoisted myself up, straddling him.
I lowered myself, the head of his cock pressing against my slick entrance. I paused, letting him watch, letting *us* watch. Then I sank down. It wasn't the frantic plunge of before; it was a slow, deliberate slide. He groaned, low in his throat, but I held the rhythm, taking him deep, all the way to the hilt, and settled my weight.
We were face-to-face, close enough that our breaths mingled. His hands found my waist, thumbs brushing my skin, but they weren't gripping hard like before. They were possessive but steady. I looked into his eyes. They were no longer just hungry; they were open. Vulnerable, even. The room felt smaller, the world outside erased. There was only the slide of skin, the creak of the bed, and the way his gaze tracked every movement I made.
I started to move, a slow roll of my hips, and a laugh bubbled up in my chest. It wasn't nervous; it was breathless, incredulous. I looked down at him, then back up. "We're supposed to be adults," I gasped, the words tumbling out between breaths. "We have responsibilities. We have reputations."
He chuckled, the sound vibrating against my stomach as I moved. "I know," he murmured, his eyes crinkling. "This is so wrong."
"Terribly wrong," I agreed, dropping my weight again, feeling him throb inside me. "But I don't want to stop."
He reached up, tangling his fingers in my hair, tilting my head just enough so I had to look at him while I moved. "You know," he said, his voice rougher now, edged with emotion, "the first time I really noticed you as a woman wasn't tonight."
I kept riding him, my pace steady, driven by the friction and the heat building low in my belly. "No? When was it?"
"Last year," he said. "You were reaching for a dish on the top shelf in the kitchen. Your shirt rode up. You weren't posing. You were just... you. And I realized I'd been looking at you all wrong for months, but suddenly, I could only see you. All of you."
My breath hitched. A flush of heat that had nothing to do with lust spread through my chest. I looked at him, really looked at him, and felt a connection snap into place, tighter than the physical bond. "I didn't know," I whispered.
His words undid me. The pleasure shifted, deepening. It wasn't just friction anymore; it was a current of emotion riding the physical sensation. I moved faster, the intimacy fueling the lust. My hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging in slightly. He watched me, his eyes dark with adoration and hunger. I felt the coil tightening, that familiar pressure building.
"Look at me," he murmured.
I did. I rode him through the buildup, my hips fluttering, my breath coming in short gasps. He came a moment later, his body tensing, a guttural sound escaping him as he filled me. I followed instantly, my orgasm rolling through me with a soft, shuddering intensity, waves of pleasure that made my toes curl. I collapsed forward against his chest, our hearts hammering in unison.
We lay there for a long time, tangled in the sheets. The room was quiet except for our breathing. I could feel his cum leaking from me, a warm trickle that mixed with the sweat on our skin. He didn't pull out immediately; he kept me buried deep, savoring it. I lifted my head, looking down at him. He was tracing patterns on my back with his fingers, his eyes half-closed, content.
Then he spoke, his voice quiet but firm. "This is forever now."
I searched his face for any sign of doubt, but there was none. Just certainty. "Forever?" I asked.
"Yeah," he said, pressing a kiss to my collarbone. "No going back. You're mine now."