Page 14 of Changing the Playbook
“Still want to do this?” He searches my face, ready to stop if I ask him to.
“Yes.” The word comes out breathier than intended. “Definitely yes.”
His hands find my hips, steadying me as I rise on my knees. The anticipation coils tight in my belly as he positions himself, the blunt head pressing against my entrance. One hand stays on my hip while the other slides to the small of my back, supporting without controlling.
“You set the pace,” he murmurs. “However you want it.”
Easy for him to say when every nerve ending screams for more. But I do take it slow, sinking inch by careful inch, letting my body adjust to the stretch. It’s been longer than I want to admit, and the fullness makes me pause when he’s completely inside.
“You OK?” he asks.
“More than.” A laugh escapes me. “Just… give me a second.”
“We’ve got all night,” he says, although the strain in his voice suggests his control has limits.
“It’s about to get better.” He shifts slightly, changing the angle, then brings his thumb back to where we’re joined.
I rock experimentally, and the sensation—full and touched and in control—pulls a sound from my throat I’ve never made before. Because, suddenly, I realize thatthisis what sex is meant to feel like.
“Oh,” I say, a sound that’s barely a word, and more an exhalation of discovery. “That’s...”
“Good?”
His hands guide without controlling, suggesting rhythm and angle while letting me find what works. And God, what works is… everything. The roll of my hips. The pressure of his thumb. The way he watches me like I’m performing miracles instead of just figuring out how my body operates.
“You look incredible,” he says. “The way you move...”
His words embolden me, making me feel powerful instead of awkward. I’ve never directed my own pleasure like this, never been the one in charge of depth and speed and angle. It’s a revelation. Empowering. Like discovering I’ve had this key the whole time but never knew which lock it opened.
“Can I go faster?”
“God, yes.” His hips buck up slightly, control slipping for just a moment.
The increased pace changes everything. Pleasure coils tighter with each roll of my hips. I’m close—closer than I thought possible, or have ever been before in this position—and the combination of fullness and focused touch threatens to shatter me.
“Mike, I’m?—”
“Let go.”
And I do, internal muscles clenching around him as pleasure radiates from my core to every extremity. Somewhere through the haze, I hear him groan my name, feel his hips jerk as he follows me over, but I’m too lost in sensation to process anything beyond the aftershocks rolling through me.
When reality seeps back in, I realize I’ve made him come as well, which makes me smile given all the warmth he’s given me. And, a second later, I’m collapsed on his chest, both of us breathing like we’ve run wind sprints. His heart pounds under my cheek, nearly as fast as mine.
A question escapes my mouth before my filters engage. “Is it always like that for you?”
He shifts to look down at me. “Like what?”
“So… generous,” I say, after struggling to find the right word. “So focused on the other person.”
Silence stretches long enough that I regret asking, then he responds. “Sex is better when you’re both invested.”
The simplicity of it—the revolutionary idea that both people should care about both people’s pleasure—cracks something open in my chest. How many mediocre encounters have I accepted as normal? How many times have I faked satisfaction because asking for what I needed seemed like too much trouble?
I inch closer to him, and suddenly realize I’m slicked with sweat. “Sorry,” I say. “I’m gross.”
His arms band around me before I can escape. “Don’t apologize. And you’re not gross, you’re gorgeous. Plus, getting sweaty was kind of the point.”
We lie there breathing together, his heartbeat steadying under my ear. This quiet intimacy has nothing to do with sex and everything to do with connection. This is exactly what I’ve been avoiding since Jimmy proved that letting someone in means giving them the power to leave when you need them most.
