Page 127 of Every Shattered Note
“I need to taste you,” I murmur, already moving down her body, intent on losing myself between her thighs.
But she catches my face in both hands, pulling me back up until we’re nose to nose.
“No.”Her voice is wrecked, breathless.“Later.”
She kisses me hard—deep, desperate—like she’s been waiting all damn night to get me alone.
“I need you inside me,” she breathes against my mouth.
I nod, nearly undone by the way she says it.By the raw ache in her voice.But then she stills, her palm flattening against my chest.
“Do you have a condom?”
“Yeah,” I rasp, reaching blindly into the drawer behind me where I put some condoms earlier—hopeful that maybe tomorrow I would bring her, but ...plans change.I find the foil packet and hold it up, breathing hard.
But my jeans are still in the way—fuck.I fumble with the button, my fingers shaking as I shove them down my hips, lifting just enough to get free.
My cock springs forward, thick and aching, already leaking with how badly I want her.
She takes the condom from my hand.“Let me.”
Her fingers wrap around me—warm, confident, unhurried.
She tears the foil open with her teeth, eyes lifting to meet mine as she rolls the condom down over my length, slow and possessive.
It’s torture.It’s perfect.
“You’re going to kill me,” I groan.
She grins.“Not yet.”
Then she rises to her knees and hooks her fingers into the sides of her panties, sliding them down her legs and tossing them aside without breaking eye contact.One hand stays on my chest for balance, the other wraps around me, guiding me to her entrance.
She exhales shakily as the head of my cock brushes against her.Then—slowly, achingly slow—she begins to lower herself, inch by inch.
Her breath catches.Her thighs tremble.My hands grip her hips, not to rush her, but to ground myself—because the feel of her, the heat, the way she takes me in with such deliberate control, is almost more than I can handle.
She sinks lower, every movement unhurried and devastating, until she’s fully seated, snug around me, her body pressed to mine, her lips parted like she’s forgotten how to breathe.
We don’t move.
Not yet.
It’s just her, stretched around me.Me, holding on like she’s the only thing keeping me tethered to this earth.
Her mouth falls open in a gasp.
My hands grip her hips, fingers digging in as I fight the instinct to thrust up into her.
“Fuck, Aly ...”
She rolls her hips once—deliberate, slow—like she’s savoring the stretch, the fullness, the fact that she has me right where she wants me.
“I’ve thought about this,” she whispers, bracing herself on my shoulders.“Dreamed about it since I came back from San Cristóbal.”
I look up at her, completely wrecked.She’s straddling me, flushed and wild and so fucking real it hurts.
“Then keep going, baby,” I whisper.“Don’t stop now.”
