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“I want your cock,” I moan shamelessly. “Please, Conner. I want—”
“Fuck.” He lets go of my hands, freeing me to reach in front of him to snag something from the table.
A condom.
He must’ve left it there before he came to stand behind me at the window. Like he had it all planned. Like he knew I’d want this. Want him.
I’m too relieved to care.
I watch him rip it open and roll it on, fast and practiced. “Let me see you,” he whispers, and I look up to find him watching me, his gaze locked on my face like he’s committing it to memory. “Just like that…” he murmurs, lifting me on to my tiptoes, every one of his muscles straining and flexing as he lowers me slowly, breath pumping through his chest like he’s been running forever. “Henley...” He barely whispers it, and I gasp as the thick, blunt head of his cock splits my pussy wide, sinking into me. Filling me. Stretching me until I’m fully seated. Taken every inch of him.
Still watching me, he lifts his hands, weaving his fingers through my hair, pulling it from its loose braid. “I want you to kiss me,” he says, his gaze falling to my mouth and hearing him say it makes me realize he hasn’t yet. He hasn’t kissed me. Not once since I started this whole thing, days ago. “Yes or no.”
I nod, my head bobbing between the bracket of his hands. “Yes,” I say, leaning forward, the feel of him flexing and shifting inside me taking my breath away. Brushing my mouth against his, he sighs, the sound of it pushing between my lips and I swallow it. Hold it in my lungs so I can keep a piece of him with me forever.
Even when I’m gone.