Page 277 of Incompatible

Bay plays with my hair for a moment. "Yes. All my brothers have found their True Mates. I’m the last one they think doesn’t have a TM. Well, everyone except Storm," he says with a slightly sour expression.

"So in their eyes, you’re the last one?" I tilt my head a little and smile at him playfully, because something is dawning on me. "Meanwhile, you know what’s funny? You were actually the first one to find yours."

Bay blinks.

"You’re right, I never thought about it that way."

"And yet."

Bay smiles too, and brushes the tip of his gloved finger over my nose.

Suddenly I swing my leg over his thighs and settle on his lap, placing both hands on his shoulders.

"We were always meant for each other, Bay… but we gave up."

"You didn’t give up," Bay says seriously, "and I’m grateful for that."

"I did, for a few years. It was only about five years ago that I started doing anything. But through college… I was like… suspended, miserable, depressed."

Bay slowly, exploringly, slides his hand along my side, my hip, my thigh.

I can’t hide the fact that sitting astride his hips now, I feel a very specific hardness beneath me.

I lower my eyes to his crotch and then lift them again, giving him a darker smile.

"How about we…"

"I’m in," he says, matching my mischievous smile.

I don’t need to be told twice. I quickly pull out the condoms, unbutton his pants, and his cock springs free, hard and ready. Biting my lip, I roll the rubber down his shaft.

Meanwhile, Bay’s hand lifts, trailing from my temple, down my cheek, then along the side of my neck, before settling on my nipples, aching to push through my T-shirt. He teases them, flicking lightly, and I squirm.

I unbutton my own pants.

Thankfully, Bay’s wearing jeans. That’s enough separation, so I shove my pants down. For a brief moment, my hard little cock is right in front of his face, and he stares at it with intense focus.

"I wish I could…" he whispers.

"Soon," I reply, then rise over his hips, lining his tip up with my hole. I start sinking down, the stretch and burn are intense, but I don’t plan on stopping.

Gradually, I slide lower, Bay’s gloved hands support me, cupping my ass, his fingers gently moving at the edge of my hole, like he’s trying to help stretch me, pulling my cheeks apart.

And I push down, taking him in, like a chicken on a spit. My hands grip his shoulders, and our eyes lock.

My body trembles inside, aching to rip off these condoms, to merge with him completely. But I know I have to wait just a little longer…

My tunnel clings tightly around his shaft, and I can almost feel my ring of muscles pulsing, massaging him, then relaxing and loosening to make even more room.

I love being stuffed so tight, love the friction it creates. I start my work: lifting and dropping, my eyes never leaving Bay’s. There’s something absurdly intense about it, even with layers of clothes and latex between us, the excitement doesn’t fade.

My body feels strangely pleasure-drunk, starved. I’m hot, struggling, and I know this won’t last long. I ride him hard, up and down, fast and rhythmic, my thighs driving the motion. Our breaths quicken, our hearts pound, signaling the wave of pleasure approaching.

Right before it hits me, I grab the T-shirt beside us and cover my cock, I don’t want my fluids on his skin.

Then I come, throwing my head back, jerking my hips harder—forward, side to side, up and down—almost thrashing, moaning, groaning, muttering nonsense.

When I open my eyes, I meet Bay’s gaze, his pupils blown wide, his lips slightly parted in rapid breaths. Then he says softly,