Fuck It (Yama Yama)

Now I’m lost. “I—Kasha didn’t tell me anything. I just…” My chest heaves with a sigh. I’ve totally ruined the mood. “I’m not good at sex. I don’t know what to do or say to make it good for you but I really want to.”

His demeanor softens, and he cups my face. “Sicily, relax. Turn off that overactive brain of yours. You don’t need to say or do anything to make it good. Close your eyes.” He nods when I hesitate, and I do as he says. He spins me around and pulls me back against his chest. “Relax,” he repeats. His arm wraps around me and his hand caresses my breast while he brings his lips to my neck. His other hand travels under my waistband and pleasure washes over me when his finger slides over my clit. My head falls back onto his shoulder as a moan slips out of me.

“You’re so wet. I can’t wait to get inside you. It’s all I can fucking think about.”

It’s all I can think about too. He’s got me back in that zone where I can’t concentrate enough to worry about what I should be doing. Any move I make is just my body demanding what it wants. I press my ass back into him, grinding on his cock. “Then fuck me.”

A second later, I’m naked beneath him on the bed while he slides his fingers into me. My body responds instantly, clamping around them, almost making me come right there. He groans when he feels it and adds his thumb to the action, circling my clit. “I think you’re going to come for me already.”

Yep. Accurate assessment.

My back bows, and I close my eyes as I’m dragged over the edge.

“Fuck, that was sexy,” he growls.

I’m not sure where he grabbed it from or when, but he has a condom in hand that he wastes no time unwrapping and rolling on. Intense eyes land on mine. He drapes his body over me. My legs wrap around him like they’ve only been waiting on the chance. His kiss is long and deep, reigniting the fire under my skin. My hands roam over every bit of skin I can reach while he works his way down my neck.

The feel of his cock prodding against me is sensual and maddening all at once. He rears up a little to look me in the eye while he positions himself at my entrance. It makes me feel so…vulnerable, but in a good way. He moves gently at first, easing himself forward until he’s filling me. And fuck, does he fill me. The stretch is almost painful, but so good. My hands go to his ass, urging him, and I’m rewarded with long, slow strokes.

This is different. Having a guy on top. I love his weight on me, the feeling of being trapped under him. “Fuck, Sicily, you feel so good,” he murmurs as I move with him. It doesn’t take long for the feeling to start building again. “Are you going to come for me again?”

“Yes.” The word gets drawn out and lost as gibberish in my head as I’m struck by an orgasm that curls my toes and has me digging my nails into his sweaty back.

He rolls us over and sits up, pulling me with him so I’m on his lap. I need to make him come. I need to make him feel just as good.

This isn’t going to be like the times with the other men. He’s made me his and now I’m going to make him mine.

We’re face to face while I ride him, angling my hips to get him as deep as possible. He pants and gasps out my name. Wow, I need to hear that again. His head falls back on a long groan, his whole body trembling.

He came.

I made him come.

“Oh my god! It worked!” I exclaim as his eyes open to look into mine.

He blinks a couple of times like maybe he didn’t hear me correctly. “What worked?”

“I made you come.”

He nods, the puzzled expression on his face shifting to amusement. “Yes, you did, and I made you come twice.”

“So, it was okay, then? You weren’t bored or anything?” I didn’t say anything or do much but follow his lead. Not one naughty boy or slap.

He plants a searing kiss on my lips. “That was fucking fantastic. The last thing you could ever be is boring.”

I might feel the tiniest urge to cry. For the first time, a man actually liked having sex with me. Maybe this can work. The celebration going on in my head is cut short by a sharp knock on the door.

“Anderson! Open up,” Roman barks.

Oh no. What do we do? “Is the door locked?” I whisper.

Anderson shrugs and runs his hand down my back. “It’s okay. We agreed to tell him.”