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"Hmm?" he hums against my skin.

I sit up, straddling his hips, feeling the hard length of him pressing against my core through the thin barriers of our sleep clothes. The position gives me a perfect view of him—broad chest dusted with hair, the defined muscles of his torso, the intriguing trail leading down beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs.

"I want to try something," I say, surprising myself with my boldness.

His eyes darken with interest. "I'm listening."

I bite my lower lip, suddenly shy despite everything we've shared. "I want to be on top."

His hands settle on my hips, thumbs tracing small circles over my hipbones. "Any particular reason?" he asks. Ths sudden fire in his eyes makes heat pool between my thighs.

I feel a blush rising to my cheeks. "It's my favorite position to write. I've described it dozens of times, imagined how it would feel, but I've never..."

Understanding dawns in his eyes, followed by something darker, more primal. "You want to ride me."

I blush deeper, but I nod. "Yes."

"Take off your shirt," he commands softly.

I cross my arms, grasping the hem of the oversized t-shirt and pulling it over my head in one fluid motion. The cool morning air pebbles my skin, though whether from the temperature or his heated gaze, I couldn't say.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, his hands sliding up to cup my breasts again, this time with nothing between his calloused palms and my sensitive skin. "Every inch of you."

I lean into his touch, arching my back slightly. In these past two weeks, he's helped me shed my self-consciousness.

"You're beautiful,too," I tell him honestly.

He looks slightly uncomfortable with the praise, as he always does. "Men aren't beautiful."

"You are," I insist, leaning down to press a kiss over his heart. "Accept the compliment, mountain man."

His laugh rumbles through his chest. "Yes, ma'am."

I continue my exploration, gaining confidence with each appreciative sound he makes. When my fingers reach the waistband of his boxer briefs, his erection springs free, thick and hard against his stomach. He’s so big and thick, just seeing him makes me wet.

I slide my panties off, now naked and straddling his thighs, completely exposed to his gaze.

"Perfect," he murmurs, his hands returning to my hips. "Now, come here."

He guides me forward until I'm positioned over him, his throbbing cockhead pressing against my pussy. I can feel how ready I am, slick and swollen with desire.

"Take your time," he tells me, his voice strained with the effort of remaining still. "Go as slow as you need."

I nod, grateful for his patience as I position myself properly. With one hand braced against his chest for balance, I use the other to guide his cock to my entrance. The first press of him against me draws a gasp from my lips.

"That's it," he encourages, his hands steady on my hips but not pushing. "Take what you need."

I sink down slowly, feeling the delicious stretch as my body accommodates his size. The stretch is more intense in this position. I can’t help but whimper as I slide down every inch until my pussy is flush with his pelvis.

"God, Sheryl," he groans, his fingers flexing against my skin. "You feel incredible."

I experiment with a small movement, lifting slightly before sinking back down. The sensation pulls a surprised moan from my throat. In this position, I can control the angle, the depth, and the pace. The power of that control is intoxicating.

"That's it," Alex encourages, his eyes fixed on my face. "Find your rhythm."

I begin to move more confidently, discovering what feels good, what makes his breath catch, and what makes my own pleasure build. The freedom of movement is everything I imagined when writing these scenes and more—the roll of my hips, the flex of my thighs, the way his length hits spots inside me that send sparks of pleasure radiating outward.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, one hand moving from my hip to where we're joined, his thumb finding my clit. "So beautiful, taking me like this."