Page 44 of Marked By Tank
She nods.
“Words.”
“I know.”
“You tell me if you need me to stop.”
“I will.”
I line myself up and push in slow in her tight pussy.
Her face tightens. I stop instantly.
“Breathe,” I murmur, kissing her cheek, her mouth, the corner of her lips. “That’s it. I’ve got you.”
She clings to me and breathes.
Good girl.
This time I do say it.
Her eyes flutter closed at the words.
When she nods, I move again. Slow. Gentle. Giving her time. Letting her body learn me inch by inch instead of taking what I want because I can.
The second it changes, I feel it.
The tension eases. Her body opens for me. Her breath goes soft and broken instead of sharp.
“There,” I mutter against her mouth. “That’s my girl.”
She moans.
Fuck.
That does me in worse than anything else yet.
I start moving for real then. Still careful. Still watching her face. But hungrier now. She wraps her legs around me and takes me deeper, and whatever was left of my self-control starts bleeding out fast.
I slide a hand between us and rub her clit while I move.
She gasps and arches up.
“Yes,” she whispers. “Oh God...”
“There you go,” I say, voice rough. “Take it. That’s it.”
She is so damn responsive. Every drag of my fingers, every roll of my hips, every filthy little praise lands right in her body. I can feel her getting tighter, feel the way she starts to lose rhythm, starts chasing it.
“Come for me,” I tell her. “I want to feel it.”
That does it.
She breaks apart with my name on her mouth, body clenching around me so hard I groan into her neck and almost lose it right there.
I hold out just long enough to watch her ride it.
Then I let go.
