Page 44 of Practice Makes Perfect (Pine Barren University #2)

“Is this—am I doing it right?” I ask, suddenly self-conscious.

Linc’s laugh is strained with pleasure. “Trust me, this could never be wrong…”

Encouraged, I pick up the pace, rolling my hips in a way that has him hitting a spot inside me that sends shivers up my spine. His hands roam everywhere—my breasts, my hips, my ass—as if he can’t decide where to touch me first.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, eyes locked on mine. “Riding me like you were born for it.”

His words send a thrill through me, and I feel myself getting even wetter around him. I’ve never felt so powerful, so completely in command of my own pleasure and someone else’s.

A fresh wave of boldness washes over me. “I want to try something,” I say, lifting myself off him.

“Anything,” he agrees immediately, his cock glistening with my arousal.

I turn around, presenting my back to him, and position myself over him again. “I’ve been waiting so long, I can’t possibly only try one flavor.”

His laugh turns into a groan as I sink back down onto him, facing away this time. The angle is completely different, and I gasp as he seems to go even deeper than I ever thought possible.

“Fuck, Em,” he hisses, hands grasping my hips. “That view…”

I glance over my shoulder to see him staring at where our bodies join, his expression a mix of awe and intense desire. It makes me feel impossibly sexy, and I move with renewed confidence, bracing my hands on his thighs as I ride him.

The new position hits different spots inside me, and I feel the pleasure building faster now, a tightening low in my belly that promises something explosive.

His grip on my hips tightens as he helps guide my movements, occasionally thrusting up to meet me. And, just as I think I might be getting close, he sits up suddenly, his chest against my back, arms wrapping around to cup my breasts.

“I need to feel more of you,” he whispers against my ear, his breath hot on my skin.

He maneuvers us with surprising grace, lifting me off him and guiding me onto my hands and knees. Before I can miss the fullness of him inside me, he’s positioning himself behind me, guiding himself back inside.

“Is this okay?” he asks, the head of his cock teasing me.

“Yes,” I nod eagerly. “Please.”

He pushes in slowly, and I let out a long, low moan at the sensation.

“God, you’re so tight,” he groans. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

“It’s perfect ,” I gasp, pressing back against him. “Keep going.”

He pushes forward, filling me completely in one smooth, delicious slide. My breath catches—the angle is different like this, somehow deeper, more intense. He pauses, letting me adjust, his hands running soothingly along my spine.

“You good?” His voice is strained with the effort of holding back.

“So good,” I gasp, wiggling my hips slightly to test the sensation.

That’s all the permission he needs. He grips my hips and begins to move, establishing a rhythm that has me gasping with each thrust. The pressure builds immediately, a coiling tension low in my belly that grows tighter and tighter.

“Linc—” My voice comes out high and desperate.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, one hand sliding around to find my clit. The moment his fingers make contact, stars explode behind my eyelids.

My climax crashes through me and I cry out, unrestrained and lost in sensation. My arms wobble, then give out entirely, my face and chest collapsing onto the mattress while my hips remain elevated, still connected to him.

“Don’t stop,” I pant once I can form words again. “Keep going. Use me .”

“ Use you , huh?” There’s a smile in his voice. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes,” I mumble into the sheets. “As a reward for everything you’ve taught me and everything you mean to me.”

He chuckles, his thrusts resuming but at a gentler pace. “That’s not how this works, Em. One orgasm is just par for the course.”

“ Par? ” I shoot a glance over my shoulder. “Are we golfing now? Because I’ve never played, but I think I might be good at it if it feels like this.”

His laugh is warm and genuine. “Well, I do like to see how many strokes it takes?—”

“Oh my god, stop,” I giggle, dropping my face back to the sheets.

He doesn’t stop, though. With my upper body relaxed against the mattress and my ass still raised, he continues moving inside me. This time it’s slower, more deliberate.

The sensation is different now—less frantic, more sensual. I can feel every inch of him sliding in and out. The intensity builds differently this time, a gradual ascension rather than a desperate climb.

“I can feel you getting close again,” he murmurs, and I marvel at how he seems to know my body better than I do.

“How—” My question dissolves into a moan as he adjusts his angle slightly, hitting a spot that sends electricity racing up my spine.

“Because you get tighter ,” he explains, voice strained. “And you make these little sounds—these perfect little gasps?—”

As if on cue, I gasp as he thrusts particularly deep, my body tensing with pleasure. Every nerve ending is hypersensitive, and I’m amazed to find myself approaching another peak so soon after the first.

“That’s it,” he encourages, his pace increasing ever so slightly.

His words, combined with the delicious friction of him moving inside me, push me over the edge. This orgasm is different from the first—less explosive but somehow deeper, radiating through my entire body, and I shudder around him.

As the aftershocks ripple through me, I feel boneless, utterly spent, and more satisfied than I’ve ever been in my life. Linc slows almost to a stop, giving me time to float back down to earth.

“Take me how you want now,” I tell him when I can speak again, feeling generous and eager to give him the same pleasure he’s given me.

He withdraws—I whimper at the sudden emptiness—and gently turns me over onto my back. When I’m settled, he positions himself between my legs and leans down to kiss me deeply, tenderly.

“I want to see your face,” he murmurs against my lips. “I want to watch you while I’m inside you.”

My heart swells at his words, and I reach up to cup his face and kiss him. As our tongues meet, he pushes forward, sliding back inside me in one smooth motion.

We both gasp at the sensation, our eyes locked together.

Linc begins to move, establishing a rhythm that’s both gentle and insistent. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, and he groans in appreciation. His eyes never leave mine, even as his pleasure builds.

“You feel so good,” I tell him, running my hands over his shoulders.

“So do you,” he replies, his voice strained. “Better than I even imagined.”

The admission makes my heart race faster, and I pull him down for another kiss, deep and passionate. Our bodies move together in perfect synchrony, as if we’ve been doing this forever instead of just minutes.

His pace quickens, his breathing becoming more ragged, and I know he’s getting close. I tighten around him, wanting to give him as much pleasure as he’s given me.

With a groan that comes from deep in his chest, he stiffens above me, his eyes squeezing shut and then flickering open as he finds his release. The sight of him coming undone is beautiful—his face flushed, lips parted, muscles taut.

I hold him tightly as he pulses inside me, riding out the waves of his orgasm. And when he finally collapses against me, I wrap my arms around him, cradling his head against my chest.

We’re both slick with sweat, breathing hard, hearts racing in tandem. For several long moments, we don’t speak, don’t move, simply exist together in the afterglow.

Eventually, he lifts his head to look at me. “You okay?”

I smile. “I’m spectacular. Phenomenal. Earth-shatteringly fantastic .”

He laughs, pressing a kiss to my collarbone. “Haven’t lost my touch.”

“As if that was ever a concern,” I scoff. “You’ve got that reputation to uphold.”

His expression sobers slightly. “The campus man-whore is retired.”

I’m touched by that. “I couldn’t have asked for a better first time,” I say.

Our eyes meet and hold, and I feel something shift between us—something deeper, more meaningful than just physical pleasure.

I thought I might feel different after finally having sex, but the truth is, I still feel like me—just happier, more whole, more connected to this man who’s become so important to me.

“ Thank you ,” I whisper, and the words feel inadequate for everything I want to express.

But Linc seems to understand anyway. He smiles, leaning down to press a soft kiss to my lips. “No, Em. Thank you for trusting me with this. With you.”

As we lie there, tangled together in his sheets, I feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude that I found the courage to take this leap. Sex was always this intimidating, mysterious thing in my mind. But with Linc, it became something beautiful, something joyful—a connection rather than a conquest.

And as his breathing evens out against my skin, his arms wrapped securely around me, I realize something important: this wasn’t just a lesson. It wasn’t just sex. It was the beginning of something real, something I want to keep exploring with him for as long as he’ll let me.