Page 104 of The Fake Date Agreement

“Yes.”

He grabs a condom, tearing off the corner with his teeth, but when he moves to slip it on, I catch his wrist. “Let me.”

I roll the condom over the tip, and he holds his breath, then releases it in a rush as I smooth it the rest of the way over him.

“Shit,” he whispers, trembling. “I wanted this to be slow. And you, beautiful, are determined to blow my fucking mind open. Get iton. I need to be inside you.”

Laughing, I give him a gentle squeeze, which makes him groan.

I wrap my arms around him as my breath slows, anticipation thick in the air.

His hips move back, and my belly tightens.

And he stops.

He stares down at me for two full seconds, his hands cupping my face and his eyes searching mine. “Fuck. I can’t believe this is real.”

He presses his blunt tip between my thighs. I part them, making more room for him, holding his gaze, nails in his skin, a moan falling from my lips as he pushes.

We both groan at the first inch, and I grab desperately at his arms as he slowly impales me. He’s big, stretching me, making me feel so alive with each inch he buries inside me. I never want this to stop.

“Too much?” he stops.

“More.”

He’s trembling, his hands flexing on me, and I know he’s still trying to slow things down. Trying to give me the slow and sweet he seems to think I deserve.

“Harder,” I moan.

He’s panting. “Tobie…” He gasps. “Shit, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.” I wrap my legs around him, dig my heels into his lower back, and work myself on him in one rocking motion that buries him to the hilt.

His control snaps.

The headboard slams into the wall with each hard thrust of his cock inside me. I’m filling the room with moans I should stop in case anyone hears me. But I can’t stop. I want more. Need more. We thrust together, bodies writhing, lips hungry.

Every part of him is so much bigger than I am, yet he feels like he was meant to live inside me. He fills and completes me, snatching up all the empty, aching parts and replacing them with pure feelings.

He’s groaning loudly, each thrust ending in a rolling twist.

Those little twists will be the end of me.

My breathing changes. The sound of my heart pounding fills my head. I can’t drag enough air into my lungs.

Then the pleasure hits.

I dig my heels into the backs of his thighs. My hips buck, my stomach tenses as I choke out a moan, and I tighten around him.

He slams into me, holds me flush against him, and I feel him jerking, straining to go a little deeper into me.

We slump together, panting hard as we cling to each other. His back is damp and sweaty when I slide my arms around him.

Long minutes later, I run my fingers down Reid’s sweat-dampened back. “Reid?”

“Beautiful?”

“If I’d done this in my sweats?” I ask, curious about his response.

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