Page 113 of Boulder's Weight

His hands tangle in my hair, not pushing or guiding, just connecting.

I take my time, savoring the taste of his skin, the way his muscles jump under my touch.

When I reach the waistband of his jeans, I glance up, meeting his gaze as I slowly unbutton them.

His breathing is already ragged, his eyes never leaving mine as I drag the zipper down.

"Fuck, Kelsey," he breathes as I press my palm against his hardness through his boxers.

"That's the idea," I tease, tugging his jeans and boxers down his legs in one smooth motion.

As I take him in my mouth, his hands tighten in my hair, his hips lifting slightly to meet me.

I lose myself in the taste of him, in the sounds he makes as I bring him closer to the edge.

When I feel him tense, his thighs trembling under my free hand, I increase my pace, taking him as deep as I can.

Boulder's control finally breaks, his hips thrusting up to meet me, his grip in my hair tightening to the edge of pain.

"Kelsey," he warns, his voice strained. "I'm going to?—"

I don't back away, instead taking him deeper, swallowing around him as he comes with a hoarse shout of my name.

Before I can move, Boulder's hands are on me, pulling me up his body until I'm straddling him again.

His kiss is fierce, possessive.

"My turn," he growls, flipping us with ease so I'm pinned beneath him.

His hands make quick work of my clothing, stripping me bare.

There's a hunger in his eyes that ignites my own need, but also something deeper, something that makes my heart race for reasons that have nothing to do with physical desire.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his eyes roaming over my naked body. "So fucking perfect. And all mine."

"All yours," I confirm, the words feeling like a vow.

He takes his time with me, his mouth and hands exploring every inch of my skin, learning me as if we have all the time in the world.

By the time his fingers find their way between my thighs, I'm trembling with need, my hips lifting to meet his touch.

"So wet for me," he groans, sliding two fingers inside me easily. "Always so ready."

I cling to his shoulders as he works me toward release, my nails digging into his skin as the pleasure builds.

When I come, it's with his name on my lips, my body arching off the bed as waves of sensation wash over me.

Before I can recover, he's positioning himself between my thighs, his eyes locked with mine as he pushes inside, filling me in one slow, perfect stroke.

"Mine," he groans, starting to move with deliberate, measured thrusts. "Say it again."

"Yours," I gasp, my legs wrapping around his waist to take him deeper. "Only yours, Boulder."

He buries his face in my neck, his rhythm increasing as our bodies move together in perfect sync.

It's different from every other time we have sex—there’s more intent, more focus, as if we're both trying to prove something with our bodies that we're not ready to say with words.

My second orgasm builds slowly, tension coiling tighter with each thrust.

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