My body curled upward around him, legs folding across his lower back, arms holding on tighter than I was sure I had ever held anyone before, like I was terrified to let go, like I never planned to.
Only then did his lips pull from mine, forehead pressing to mine for a second as he took a breath, both our eyes seeming to flutter open at the same time.
It was only then that I felt his cock slide, press, slip inside.
My breath caught at the sensation as he slid inch by glorious inch until he was finally settled fully inside.
I wanted to find words.
There were so many to say.
So many feelings that needed to be spoken, made even more real than they already felt by sharing them with him.
But my thoughts tangled together before any of them could touch my tongue.
I could see a similar battle in Kingston's face.
But in the end, there were no words.
There didn't need to be.
There was just us.
Just this moment.
Just the rush of shared pleasure as his body slid out of mine, then in, unhurried, but somehow desperate at the same time.
Whimpers became moans as my body arched, as my hips matched his motions, as my fingers dug, as his slid under me curling into my shoulders, leaving marks in their fierceness, his grip clearly showing his slow but sure loss of control, his need to hold onto it for me - a thought that made my sex clench harder as he surged a little faster, a little harder, a little deeper.
"King..." I gasped, feeling pushed to the edge again.
"Come for me, sweetheart," he demanded, voice rough, coming from between clenched teeth.
One more surge and the orgasm crashed, dragging me under, refusing to let me surface. So I did all I could do. I held on. I cried out, gasped, let him anchor me as the waves threatened to tear me away.
"Fuck, Savvy..." he hissed, pressing deep, body jerking hard as he came at the end of my orgasm.
His weight came down on me, pressed me deeper into the mattress, his head nestled into the crook of my neck, breathing heavy. Against my breast, his heart was hammering hard, as frantic as my own.
Maybe breathing was harder, but I never wanted him to move. My arms stayed wrapped around him as we both slowly won the battle for composure, heartbeats slowing, breathing evening out, muscles - previously mushy and useless - finding strength once again, making him fight against my hold a bit, press up to look down at me.
"Fantasies were great. Reality was a million times better," he told me.
I couldn't seem to find the words to agree. so I did it with my body, pulling him down, pressing my lips to his, kissing him until it was hard to breathe again.
"Let me up. Just for a minute," he specified, making my arms and legs release him with only a small bit of hesitation.
He got up, hopping off the bed, going to the door, giving me a glorious eye full of his bare ass as he made his way into the hall to go to the bathroom.
Alone, I moved upward, sliding under the sheets, curling on my side to hide a giant smile in the pillows.
Because the moment I had only let myself fantasize about in weak moments - before bed, in those in-between moments in the morning before my day forced me out of the trappings of my blankets - had just tripped out of dreams and into real life.
Nothing, no amount of wishful longings, could ever compare to that. The touch of his hands, lips, tongue, teeth, the press of his body against mine, the sounds of his breathing, his curses, his hissing, the way he said my name.
Nothing could compare to having that, experiencing that.
The only thing I could think was - perfect. It was perfect. It was everything I had ever dreamed of. More.
"Are you okay?" King's voice asked, sounding worried from his side of the bed, making me turn my head out of the pillow, not even trying to dull the shine of the smile. Seeing it, his shoulders relaxed. A slow, sexy smile spread upward, meeting the warmness in his eyes.
Lifting the sheets, he moved in with me, curling onto his side, hand reaching out to rest on the side of my neck.
"So that happened," he announced with a small smile.
"Mmhmm," I agreed, inching closer to his warmth - both literal and figurative. "I would like to schedule that again for, say, eight hours from now," I told him, checking the nonexistent watch at my wrist.
"I think I can squeeze that in," he agreed as his hand slid down my arm, moving across my back, anchoring in the middle to pull me with him as he rolled onto his back, settling me on his chest.