“Yours.”
Oh god. His hand is fucking me hard, in exactly the way that I like, and my body is giving me no choice but reflexively tightening around those huge fingers. Straining, I ride his hand until I lose control, lose sight of everything, lose the edge of my restraint.
“Fuck me, now.” I love how it feels to say that. It sounds wrong coming from my lips, but something inside me that’s been bound tight for longer than I can really know starts to come undone. My body isn’t bad. My desire isn’t bad. It’s a way to feel alive, and to help this man who is looking at me like I’m oxygen under water, water in the desert, stars in the sky, find his center.
Wrapping my legs around him, I pull him to me and practically scream with relief as he fills me, stretching me, and driving himself into me with a frantic need.
“Harder. I want to feel you.”
My words are lost in a gasp as Patrick grabs my hips, pulls me even closer and pumps into me with a ferocity I’ve never felt. Rides me, fucks me, owns me, fills me, takes me, without mercy over and over again until all I can see is a blinding light. Wave after wave of unleashed power hits me, and when I go, I take Patrick with me, spasming and grinding against me into the waves of pleasure.
The only thing he says over and over again is my name.