Page 219 of Becoming Us

He looked over his shoulder, his expression completely undone. “Do it. Fuck me.”

My body moved on autopilot, not questioning or denying him for even a second. I slicked myself, groaning at the contact, then reached for more lube, coating him with care, set on making this nothing but pleasure.

Shifting my weight onto my knees, I took one final second to admire the image: the head of my cock nudging his rim, circling slowly.

Then I pressed in.

I fought the urge to shut my eyes, forcing them to stay open—watching, breath held, as the resistance gave and the crown eased inside. He clenched around me, body taut as he adjusted to the intrusion.

“Fuck,” I breathed, pressing my free hand to the small of his back, urging him to arch more.

He did, legs sliding on the bed, almost sucking my dick deeper into him.

“How are we doing?” I spared a quick glance at his face. His eyes were closed, his cheek resting on his forearm. He nodded, hips inching backward—wordlessly asking for more.

I kept the pressure steady, feeling his body yield and then tighten around me like a vise. And then—finally—his ass settled flush against the cradle of my hips, and I swore I’d died and gone to fucking heaven.

“Just a minute,” I muttered—to him or myself, I wasn’t sure. I focused on breathing, on not coming too fast, which was becoming increasingly difficult with how he kept clenching and unclenching around me, like the most exquisite torture.

“Maybe we should’ve used a condom,” I said with a breathy laugh.

“Why?”

“Don’t want to come so soon.” I dropped over him, one palm pressing into the bed, needing to feel my weight on him. The other slid between his legs, finding his cock and stroking it gently.

“Oh, fuck.” He moaned at the contact, his hips pushing back into mine.

I ran my thumb over the tip, finding it slick with precum. I groaned, circling the pad of my thumb over it, and a shiver ran through him.

“Like that?”

“So good—please move. It feels so fucking good,” he said in one ragged breath.

I pulled back and gave a slow, careful thrust, testing our pace. Then another. And another.

“Can you grab yourself?”

He nodded and replaced my hand with his own. I braced both hands on the bed, using them for leverage as I began to thrust harder.

My eyes fluttered shut, head tipping back. My hips snapped forward, the slap of skin on skin echoing through the room. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I registered the creaking of the bed, the soft thuds against the wall, making everything impossibly hotter. I loved this fucking bed.

Sliding my hands to his hips, I straightened up and picked up the rhythm. My gaze dropped between us, locking on the stretch of him around me, swallowing every inch with each thrust.

I slowed, mesmerized, as he started pushing back into me. My hands smoothed over his ass, feeling the muscles tighten beneath my palms. I spread him wider, giving myself a better view.

Then I stopped altogether, groaning as he completely took over—grinding back, building his own rhythm.

“Why aren’t you moving?” he asked, frustration in his voice, though he didn’t stop.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s just watching your ass fuck itself on my cock is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Or felt. And I need a second to fully appreciate it.”

He let out a deep, breathless laugh before groaning, arching even more, fucking himself harder and deeper. I ran my palm up his spine, then bent forward to press a kiss to his back, moaning against the heat of his skin. My hips began to follow his, slower now, letting him take the lead.

I closed my eyes, resting my forehead against him. “Do you want to switch?” His hips froze. “It just seems like you’d really rather be riding me right now.”

“Okay.”

I pulled out, and we switched positions. I propped my back against the pillows, head resting on the headboard, while Attyhovered over me—one knee bent on the mattress, the other foot on the floor.