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I grab her wrists gently and pin them above her head, my hands closing around them with just enough pressure to feel control settle into my body. She whimpers—soft and wanting—and it’s the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard.

But I don’t move yet. I lean down, breathing against her mouth. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she whispers. “God, yes.”

I growl low in my throat and kiss her hard, devouring her. My hips grind into hers, and she arches beneath me, moaning as I pin her to the bed with the weight of my body, my hands still holding hers firm.

I trail kisses down her neck, across her chest, biting gently at the curve of her breast just to hear her gasp. Her hips buck, but I hold her steady. My control is paper-thin now, fraying with every breath she takes.

“Eddie,” she moans, writhing. “Please—”

“I’ve got you, baby,” I say, my voice barely more than a growl. “But first…” I release her wrists, just for a moment, and lean back slightly. “We need to talk,” I say, my hand sliding down her inner thigh.

Her eyes flutter open, hazy with lust but focused. “Okay…”

“Birth control?”

“I have an IUD,” she says breathlessly. “And I’m clean. Tested two months ago.”

I nod slowly, my heart thudding in my chest. “I’ve never been with anyone without a condom.”

Her eyes search mine. “Are you clean?”

“Yes,” I say. “Tested before my last tour. Always careful.”

I hesitate for half a second, then tell her the truth. “I’ve never wanted to go without before. But with you… I do.”

Her breath stutters, her fingers brushing my jaw.

“I want that too,” she whispers.

She’s spread beneath me, panting, flushed, her eyes wild and full of heat, wrists pinned above her head with my hand. I’m already halfway gone, just from the look of her—but I hold back, breathing heavy, watching every twitch of her body, every shallow rise and fall of her chest.

I press my hips into hers, slow and firm, not giving her everything—not yet—just enough to make her writhe.

“You sure about this?” I ask, voice a low gravel against her ear.

She nods, breathless. “Yes. God, yes.”

But I still don’t move. Not all the way. I kiss the corner of her mouth, down the curve of her jaw, then murmur, “You wet for me, baby?”

Her whole body arches, her thighs twitching around my waist.

“Let me feel,” I whisper, and finally let go of her wrists. “Keep your hands where they are.”

She obeys instantly, fingers curled into the sheets above her head as I trail my hand down her side, then between her legs. I slide my fingers through her folds, groaning when I feel how soaked she is for me—slick, hot, ready.

“Fuck,” I mutter, teasing her clit with slow, deliberate circles. “You’re drenched.”

She whimpers, hips rocking toward my hand. “Eddie, please—”

I slide one finger inside her, then two, curling them just right, watching her come undone in real-time.

“You like it when I take control,” I murmur, my thumb stroking her clit as my fingers work her slow and deep. “You like being pinned down and used like this, don’t you?”

She moans, writhing beneath me. “Yes… yes, I love it—”

Her walls flutter around my fingers, her head thrown back, and I can feel how close she is already. I kiss her again—hard, deep—before I pull my hand away, and she whines in protest at the loss.