He reaches between my legs again, and this time he finds my clit instantly and I sigh, my head back against the bars, my hips bucking against his hand as he kisses me, drags his lips against my jaw.
“You like that,” he says into my ear. It’s not a question. I nod anyway.
He pauses, strokes my entrance.
“You’re so wet,” he whispers, his voice wondrous.
Daniel slides his fingers into me smoothly, slowly, and I grab the top bar of his bedframe, somewhere over my head. I make a noise, eyes half open, and Daniel kisses me.
His cock is in my hand, hard and thick, a drop of precum running down the tip as I stroke it. It’s taking all my self-control not to guide it to my entrance, not to lift myself up and lower myself onto him even as his hand moves inside me, stroking my front wall, thumb still massaging my clit.
Then he pulls away from the kiss for a moment, pauses. There’s a flash of foil, a flutter, and then his mouth is on mine again as we’re rolling a condom over him, his hand over mine. He groans softly into my mouth and I let the sound wash over me, through me, his fingers still spiking pleasure through my nerves with every stroke.
He pulls them out, grabs my hip, pushes me harder against the bars and I hang onto his shoulders, lift my hips. I kiss him again, nearly out of my mind with need as the tip of his cock finds my clit, parts my lips.
“Charlie,” he whispers. “No takebacks?”
I can’t help but smile.
“No takebacks,” I whisper, and he eases into me.
My body feels like someone flips a circuit breaker, all the lights suddenly ablaze.
“Oh fuck,” I whisper, one hand in his hair, clutching his face close to mine.
He stops.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine,” I whisper, and he moves again, sinking into me, pulling back, pushing me against the bars, going deep and hard and slow and leaving me breathless. “Oh fuck, Daniel, I’m fine, I’m fine.”
He grabs me, pulls me down, kisses me hard.
“Fine?” he asks mid-kiss, his voice a growl.
“It’s good,” I manage to get out, my voice barely working as he hilts himself again, so deep it makes my toes curl.
“It is,” he says, and then we stop talking. We move together like two parts of the same machine, like we were designed with each other in mind. It’s better than fine, better than good, better than great.
I can’t keep my mouth off his. I can’t stop whispering his name, usually with some version of oh fuck thrown in there. I keep telling him not to stop, chanting it over and over even though I know he won’t.
He’s whispering my name back, his face buried in my neck, his lips on mine as we hold onto each other, entangled, still trying to get more and more and more. The wave inside me crests, higher and higher, the feeling that I’m floating, flying.
I grab the top rail on his headboard, the cool metal anchoring me to reality as he hits that spot over and over again, my whole body attuned to his like a radio antenna.
“Daniel,” I whimper. “Fuck, Daniel—”
He claps his hand over my mouth just in time, because a second later I explode, a chain reaction that rattles through my body, all the way to my fingers and toes, a cataclysm from somewhere deep within. I clench my teeth against the noise, but it escapes me anyway, bubbling up unbidden.
“Holy shit, Charlie,” Daniel gasps, his hand still over my mouth, as he thrusts so hard I see stars. “Holy fucking shit—”
I grab his shoulder, tighten my legs around him, draw him in as if to say come inside me please god come inside me but he’s already there, holding me so tight I can barely breathe, rocking like the aftershock of an earthquake, every muscle in his body tense and rigid.
It’s beautiful. It’s mesmerizing. I want to make him come a thousand times. I want to feel every single one just like this, the two of us together, so close that I can feel every single jolt as it travels through his body.
He finishes but he doesn’t stop. He kisses my neck, bites my earlobe, takes his hand off my mouth, replaces it with his own. I can’t stop touching him. I can’t stop needing him, wanting his body to still be on mine, craving this closeness, this oneness.
He bites my lower lip. He pinches a nipple, rolls it between his fingers, my body jolting at the sensation and I laugh, softly.
“You’re addictive,” he murmurs, then pinches it again and I gasp lightly. “See?”
“Is that bad?” I whisper.
He slides his hand down my torso, and I realize I’m damp with sweat and so is he as he pulls out of me carefully.