“Planning?” I had to both laugh and groan at his horny audacity.
“Hoping.” He lightly nipped my ass cheek. “And hopefully, you’re gonna love this. But if you don’t, you’ll tell me, and we’ll do something else.”
“Yeah.” I exhaled hard. I’d never felt so taken care of in my life. Safe. I felt safe. It was safe to want this with Ezra, to not only say yes but to crave him, to enjoy the hell out of his bossy, brash self. He made it safe to moan when his mouth finally reached my rim again. With him, I could be hungry and needy, and even whiny, and it was all more than okay.
“More, please,” I whispered when he teased me with featherlight flicks of his tongue.
“Mmm.” He made a deep, pleased rumble before throwing himself back into the rimming. “That’s it. Let it feel good.”
“It does. Fuck. It does,” I marveled, head thrashing against the pillow as he added a slick finger to his playing. My body remembered how much I’d liked that when he’d blown me, and my ass pushed up to meet his finger, encourage him deeper. And it was even better than my memories, the pressure against my prostate, the way it radiated pleasure everywhere, ass, belly, tip of my cock. Everything burned for him.
But then he coaxed in a second finger, and my ass clenched, nerves taking over again for several long, trembly breaths.
“It’s okay.” Ezra soothed me by stroking his free hand down my side. “Take your time. Push back to meet me when you’re ready.”
I wasn’t sure I would ever be ready, not like he meant, but my body wasn’t waiting for my brain to catch up, ass rocking in little movements until his fingers glided easily and I was moaning. “Fuck. Ezra. It’s so much.”
“Too much?” He slowed the thrusts of his fingers, but I hadn’t meant the physical sensations. Or rather, not only that, but everything, physical, emotional, mental, all of it. I wasn’t strong enough to hold all of what I was feeling. But then Ezra dropped a fleeting kiss on the small of my back. I didn’t have to hold it alone. He was right here with me. Safe. I was safe. All of these big, scary things I was feeling became much more manageable when I stopped trying to cling so tightly to control.
“More.” I shifted so my knees were more directly under me, ass up, face pressing into the pillow. I spread my arms out over my head, palms flat against the mattress. And with each breath, I let go a little more, held on a little less, until I was floating along on a sea of pleasure, trusting him to steer the ship. “Please. Please.”
The more he stroked and thrust and stretched, the more I needed until that need became all I could think about. “Do it, Ezra. Please.”
“Tell me.” Withdrawing his fingers, he shifted. He dug in the nightstand before the crinkly sound of a condom opening rang in my ears. And still, I needed.
“Fuck me,” I whispered, letting go of that last little piece of control, giving myself over to him completely.
“Oh, I will, baby.” His voice was a dirty whisper of a promise. “You’re doing so good.”
God, I could dine on his praise alone for a month. Every reassurance was the headiest of wine, making me high on his words as his body coaxed more pleasure out of me. Holding my hip with one hand and his cock with the other, he slowly pushed forward. My body clenched, but I was getting better at relaxing into the stretch, welcoming the fullness.
Groaning, I rocked up to meet his cock. “Need…”
“I’ve got you.” He slid a little deeper, finding that spot that reduced me to nothing more than a pile of moans, drinking in more of his praise. “Doing so good. You’re fucking perfect.”
Oh, I liked that, wanted to be perfect for him in the worst way. “Ezra.”
“I’m here.” He tightened his hand on my hip, a needed reminder that I wasn’t alone. He had me. I trusted him.
“More.” I arched my back, not satisfied until his thighs were pressed against mine, cock as deep in me as it could go, but I wanted more.
“So good,” he praised as he started thrusting in earnest, hard, deep strokes that answered the rising need in me. This. I’d been wanting this. Waiting for it. Craving it. And I hadn’t even realized. It was too much, yet not nearly enough. Broken sounds escaped my throat. Ezra was right. This was so good. I was so good. Maybe as good as I’d ever been.
“Need. Please.” I could have worked a hand underneath me at any point, brought myself off, but something in me held back, waiting for Ezra, wanting both permission and more praise.