Page 198 of Detectives in Love

“I’m fine,” I pant. “Please—keep going.”

He nods, adds more lube, and works me open with patient strokes. He takes his time—longer than I expect—and it undoes me. I’m squirming under him, trembling, moaning when his fingers twist or spread. I can’t keep still—I keep pushing back against him.

It feels like forever before I hear the sound of foil tearing. I turn my head and see him roll the condom down his cock. He lubes himself, hand moving slow, eyes locked on my ass. The sight is almost obscene—like he’s getting off just watching me—and it makes my stomach twist with need.

Then he moves between my legs and lines himself up.

The blunt, slick head of his cock presses against my hole, nudging. I freeze. So does he.

“Easy,” he murmurs, steadying one hand on the small of my back as he pushes—just enough for the tip to slip in.

I gasp, my whole body tightening at the stretch.

He stays there, holding still, giving me time to adjust.

I try to breathe, but impatience claws at me. I want him deeper. I push back—a small, helpless move.

“Careful,” Xavier says, voice tight. He gives me another inch. The burn is sharp, but it fades as my body opens around him.

We both moan.

He waits a few seconds, then pushes again—deeper this time—another inch, then another. I gasp as he keeps going, inch by inch, until I feel all of him inside me, his cock buried to the hilt.

I’m stretched around him, full to the point of ache, and he doesn’t move—just stays deep, breathing hard, like he knows I need a moment.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice hoarse.

“Yes,” I say, still a little breathless. “You can move. I’m okay.” I roll my hips, just to feel the thickness of him inside me—how deep he is, how stretched I am around him, every shift sending a pulse through my gut.

Xavier’s hands find my hips. He pulls out just a little, then thrusts back in, deep, hitting a spot that makes me moan out loud, my vision blurring, ache tipping into pleasure.

“Fuck, Xavier,” I breathe, pushing back, chasing that feeling. He hits it again, and a moan rips out of me as I try to fuck myself onto him, needing more.

His grip tightens on my hips, holding the pace.

“So impatient,” he groans, and there’s a dark smirk in his voice.

He starts a slow rhythm, pulling almost all the way out before sinking back in, until I feel him press right against that fucking spot.

So yeah—now I know what a prostate is. And Xavier’s making sure I never forget it.

I shudder when he thrusts harder and grazes it from another angle, the jolt making my vision spark. I curse, moans slipping out with every hit.

“Right there,” he mutters, voice close to a growl. Then he hits it again.

I cry out, clutching the sheets, my body tightening around him.

He groans but doesn’t lose control. He keeps his pace steady, grinding into me like he’s got something to prove.

My cock drags over the sheets with every thrust, throbbing, aching, begging for release—but Xavier doesn’t touch it. Doesn’t let me tip over.

“You feel that?” he rasps, bending closer, his chest pressing against my back, breath hot at my ear. “I will fuck you like this every day for the rest of your life.”

I moan, broken, pushing back into him even as my legs start to shake.

He keeps me pinned, keeps me open, his cock slamming into that spot over and over until my whole body buzzes, like I’m about to burst from pleasure.

I can’t think. I can only gasp, clutching the sheets as my cock drips helplessly. Every thrust pushes me closer, keeps me at the edge, but Xavier holds me there—doesn’t let me come.