I glide my erection back and forth, back and forth, as a drop of pre-come slinks out of the tip.
“I’m so fucking turned on,” I say, then press my thumb against the liquid drop and spread it around his hole.
“Me too,” he murmurs as I push my thumb farther in.
Then I spread him wider. I can’t even tease him anymore. Angling his hips up, I slowly push the head of my cock against him.
His grunts and groans go straight to my dick, making me harder as I enter him, taking my time. The first few inches send sparks flashing across my skin.
“Tell me you want me,” I beg. I’m not above begging. I want his body, want his love, want his heart.
“I want you so fucking much,” Declan grits out as my cock slides deeper into his welcoming ass, driving all the way to the end of him.
Pleasure vibrates relentlessly in me, and I still my moves, savoring the fevered moment of intimacy, the incomparable joy of filling my man all the way.
He is where I belong.
Declan cranes his neck, watches me go deep.
I ease out most of the way, my body shaking as I drink in the sight of my length sliding in and out of him. “Love the way you take me. Love it so much,” I murmur.
“Film us then,” he says. “Show me how it looks when you take my ass.”
A forest fire of lust tears through me. I reach for my phone on the table, turn on the camera. As I slide out, I click record, capturing a perfect shot of my slicked-up cock slowly, luxuriously filling him, bottoming out deep inside.
“Ah, yes, you’re hitting me so good,” he says.
I pull back, then drive back in, recording the slide of my shaft into his body.
“Yes, fucking yes,” he says, urging me on.
I hit stop, cover him with my chest on his back, shoving the phone gracelessly in front of his face.
Fumbling around under me, he hits play, and then Declan practically convulses as the video fills the screen. “Yes . . . look at you. Just look at you.”
“No, baby. Look at us,” I rasp as I find a rhythm, slow and deep, nailing his prostate with each decadent stroke, all while he watches the shot of me fucking him.
As he stares like he can’t look away, I reach down, grip his hot length, and stroke. A tremble stampedes through my cells as I slide my hand up and down and his gaze stays fixed on the screen. “Never seen anything hotter,” he groans as I shuttle my fist tighter, faster, putting us back together after tonight with the beauty of how our bodies connect.
And do they ever connect.
But we’d connect more like this . . .
I stop, pull out, and shift him to his back. Then I’m between his legs again as he spreads them in a wide V.
“Yes, fuck me, babe,” he grunts as he grips his shaft and I pound my man.
Somewhere on the couch, the video plays in a loop as we move in tandem. He pushes up on his elbows, and I draw him close for a scorching kiss, fucking him deep as he works his cock in his hand.
His moans tell me he’s seconds from blast-off. Sweat beads down his forehead as we break the kiss. His lips part as he jerks on an upstroke. “Coming now,” he growls, and I’m right there with him.
As he shoots all over his stomach, gasping and groaning, I pull out, slide a hand down my cock, and fuck my fist for the last few seconds. My climax tears through me, burning down walls, leaving nothing behind. I come right on top of him, his stomach covered with proof of our orgasms.
It’s euphoric, this climax. The aftershocks wrap me in an embrace, bliss taking over my body.
I drop my hand from my shaft and slide my palm into the mess we’ve made, smearing our releases together. But that’s not enough. I wipe my hand on the blanket, lower my chest to his, and yank him against me so we can both feel us as I kiss the man I love.
Later, we’re cleaned up and in bed, having ordered and eaten takeout and watched a James Bond movie. Once the closing credits roll, I grab my phone and transfer the videos to my laptop. “And this laptop never leaves the house,” I say, then put the silver machine on the nightstand shelf. Next, I delete the videos from my phone and the cloud—I’d never keep sex videos on a device I leave in my locker or have to send through security at an airport. Dick pics are one thing. I don’t have time to worry about those shots on my phone. But videos of us fucking are for our eyes only, and they will never leave our home.