Page 115 of A Real Goode Time

She nodded. “It’s good, it’s just…a lot. Just…be patient. Okay?”

“All the time in the world, love.”

She held the back of my neck in a tight grip, her other hand now possessively, affectionately on my buttock, holding, gripping. Pulling.

She held still again, and I felt her tense, and then relax, and her walls squeezed and pulsated. Fucking so tight, and it was such hot slick wet perfection that not moving and not letting go required every last shred of restraint I possessed.

And then she pulled my head down so our foreheads rested together, and she was gasping, panting. “Oh god, Rhys. I’m so glad it’s you.”

“Only me, always me.”

I felt a…resistance within her. She pulled me closer, cheek to cheek, panting in my ear, and then tilted her hips hard and pulled at my buttocks, and I felt our hips meet, and she was gasping, sharp, shrill, her breast heaving against my chest.

Then a slow sigh as the tense squeeze around me loosened, and she was still tight but not vise-grip tight.

“Oh god,” she breathed, and this time it had a different quality. An awed tone, as if understanding had dawned. She inhaled slowly, held it again, and rolled her hips. “Oh my fuckinggod.”

“Tor?” I whispered.

“Move with me,” she gasped. Clutching my ass in both hands she pulled at me. “Move with me, Rhys.”

I felt her hips roll, and met her movements with my own—slow, soft, gentle. Careful, and shallow. She kept it there for a while, testing the roll of her hips, pushing against me. Then, gradually, she found a rhythm, and her gasps matched it, sharp panting whispers of my name, again and again.

“Torie, you feel so good.” I rested my lips on her chest, between her breasts. “So fucking good. You’re mine, Tor.”

“I’m yours, Rhys,” she whispered. “And you’re mine.”

“All yours.”

She gazed up at me, then. “Are you holding back?”

I nodded. “I wanted to let you get used to it. I don’t want to hurt you.”

She lifted to kiss me. “Don’t hold back. You won’t hurt me.”

Still, I matched her intensity, gauged her responses. And truly, the more I met her and gave her myself in thrust after thrust, the more she gasped, cried out my name.

We moved together, then. In perfect unison. I had to hold back, couldn’t let go until I felt her find her own release. As we slid together, our lips meeting clumsily in gasping kissing, hands sliding and sweat-slickening skin, she pressed her palm between our meeting bodies, and her fingers found her clit, and I moved to make room, and she touched herself to find what she needed.

Her eyes met mine, suddenly, her hand freezing. “Wait, is it okay?”

I touched her hand, set it to moving again. “Anything. Everything. This is about us.” I smiled down at her. “Not just okay, Tor, it’s beautiful and it’s right and it’s perfect.”

“Oh thank fuck, I just need to…” she trailed off. “A little more…oh fuck, oh god, Rhys.”

Her hips began to tilt, to pump and gyrate. Holding back became more than difficult, it became impossible. But I wanted her to come first, so I gritted my teeth and growled as I moved with her, but what I needed was to let go, to take her, to feel us driving into heaven together.

Her whimpers became desperate, shrill. Her movements erratic and thrashing. Her eyes met mine, liquid and tearful, awed. “Rhys, I love you, god this is so fucking amazing—I love you, I fucking love you. I don’t want it to end, never end, but I have to come, I have to…”

“Come for me, love,” I breathed, snarled. “Please come. Let me watch you come.”

Her fingers flew and our hips met, and she cried out, and I felt her spasming around my cock, and that was it, that was everything I could take. I couldn’t hold back anymore. Not with her crying my name, sobbing my name, sobbing that she loved me, her walls clamping around me.

“Tor, Victoria, god, my love, Victoria,” I gasped, hoarse, my cock throbbing, my balls aching, pulsing, my cum boiling inside me. “Come, so I can come.”

“With me, Rhys,” she sobbed. “Come with me, Rhys.Right now.”

“Now, love. Now, Torie.”