Page 29 of Breaking the Lawyer

"Jesus," I breathe.

"Feel good?" His fingers stroke me through the latex.

"Too fucking good." My hips jerk up on their own. "I'm gonna come before you even—"

"No, you're not." His grip tightens just shy of painful. "You're going to wait."

The command in his voice makes my balls draw up tight. Who the hell is this guy, and when did I become the type of person who gets off on being told what to do?

He reaches for the lube, coating his palm before wrapping it around me. The slide is perfect—slick and warm and maddening. I have to bite down on my tongue to keep from losing it right there.

"Look at me," he says.

I force my eyes open just as he's positioning himself over me. One hand splayed across my chest for balance, the other reaching back to guide my cock where it needs to go.

The first touch of my head against his hole makes us both hiss. He's molten hot, tight as a fist, and I can feel him working to take me in.

"Relax," I manage, though I'm talking to myself as much as him.

He sinks down an inch. Then another.

Holy shit.Holy shit.

It's like being swallowed by silk-lined steel. Every millimeter of my dick is screaming, and he's only taken half of me. His face is pure concentration—brows furrowed, lips parted, breathing shallow through his nose.

"More," I hear myself say, because apparently I'm a masochist now.

He sinks down further, and I watch his eyes flutter shut as I fill him completely. The intensity on his face burns itself into my brain.

"Wait." I grab his hips hard enough to bruise when he's fully seated. "Give me a fucking second."

He stills, breathing hard. "You okay?"

"I feel like I'm about to explode and we haven't even started moving yet."

He clenches around me deliberately, and I nearly black out. "Better hurry up then."

Bastard.

I open my eyes to find him smirking down at me, and the sight steals what's left of my breath. He's gorgeous like this—flushed and disheveled, my cock buried to the hilt inside him. His own dick is hard and leaking against my stomach, painting wet streaks across my skin.

"Can I—" I reach up tentatively toward his shaft.

"Fucking touch me already."

I wrap my hand around him, and he shudders. He's burning hot in my palm, and when I stroke him from base to tip, he makes this broken sound that shoots through my spine.

"Move," I breathe. "Please, I need—"

He lifts his hips slowly, and I feel every inch of him sliding along my cock. The friction is perfect torture, and when he sinks back down, I can't stop the groan that tears out of my throat.

"Like that?" he asks, starting a slow rhythm.

"Exactly like that. Don't fucking stop."

He rides me with deliberate slowness, letting me feel every squeeze, every pulse of his body around mine. It's exquisite agony, and I'm not sure how much I can take.

But something primal kicks in. Maybe it's the way he's looking at me like I'm his last meal, or the sounds spilling out of him, or the simple fact that I'm actually doing this—fucking a man and loving every second of it.

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