Page 32 of Fire Me Up
His fingers withdrew completely, leaving me empty and aching. I almost protested until his mouth pressed slow kisses down my spine.
“Turn over,” Dylan said, guiding my hip. “Let’s give that shoulder a rest. Besides, I want to see your face when I’m fucking you.”
I rolled onto my back, legs splayed in what should have felt like the most vulnerable position of my life. But as Dylan moved between my thighs, eyes dark with hunger and something softer, all I felt was anticipation and trust. He slid a pillow beneath my hips, hands careful and practiced. A towel went under the pillow—practical, thoughtful, so perfectly Dylan. My heart swelled at the small gesture.
“Comfortable?” he asked, stroking my inner thigh.
I nodded, speechless, watching him tear open a condom wrapper. The sight of him rolling it on—deft, unhurried—sent another wave of heat through me. He slicked himself generously, then positioned the head of his cock at my entrance.
“Breathe for me. Deep breath in, then exhale as I push in.”
I did as told, filling my lungs, releasing slowly as he pressed forward. The pressure was immediate and intense—so much more than his fingers. The stretch burned, a sharp ache that made me tense.
“Relax,” Dylan murmured, his free hand soothing over my stomach and chest. “You’re doing so well. Just breathe through it.”
I forced my muscles to unclench, focusing on his face instead of the burn: the concentration there, the thin sheen of sweat, the way he bit his lower lip, holding himself back. He was beautiful.
The head slipped past the tight ring of muscle, and I gasped at the sudden shift—burning and fullness together, right on the knife’s edge between pain and pleasure.
“Fuck,” I hissed, my hands fisting in the sheets.
Dylan froze. “Too much? We can stop
“No,” I growled. “Just… give me a second.”
A smile flickered. “Take all the time you need.”
He stayed perfectly still, strain tight in his shoulders, restraint in his jaw.
The ache ebbed as my body adjusted. I breathed again and nodded. “More.”
He fed me inch by inch, pausing whenever I tensed. Overwhelming—not just physically, but emotionally. To be filled like this, to be joined so completely, was more intimate than anything I’d known.
When he was finally seated fully inside, hips flush to me, relief hit like a tide. Not that the sensation vanished, but that I finallyhad Dylan—all of him—inside me. It felt right, like this was where he belonged. Where I belonged.
I pulled him down for a kiss, pouring everything I couldn’t say into it: gratitude, want, the swell of something bigger. He answered with equal fervor, tongue sliding against mine, his body trembling with the effort to stay still.
“Move,” I whispered against his mouth. “Please, Dylan. I need you to fuck me.”
He didn’t need to be asked twice. He withdrew slowly, almost to the tip, then pushed back in with a controlled thrust that hit something inside me that set off stars.
“Holy shit,” I gasped, my back arching. “That’s
Dylan grinned, repeating the motion with devastating precision. “Found it again.”
Each thrust targeted that same spot, shockwaves radiating through me. The discomfort was gone, replaced by a rising pressure that curled my toes and stole my breath. I hooked my legs around his waist, changing the angle, taking him deeper.
“Fuck, Gael,” he groaned, rhythm faltering for a beat. “You feel amazing.”
I couldn’t answer. Thought scattered as he set a steady pace, each stroke pushing me higher, closer to a precipice I’d never approached. This was nothing like sex with women. This was transcendent, mind-altering, soul-deep.
“I’m definitely a fucking bottom,” I blurted, the realization punching through me with the same force as his cock.
Dylan barked a surprised laugh, warm even through the strain. “You think?” He thrust harder, proving his point. “Writhing like a little slut around my cock already.”
I moaned, my hands finding purchase on his sweat-slick back. “Should’ve figured it out sooner. Feels so good to be fucked. To let go.”
“Better late than never,” he said, shifting his weight, changing the angle again. He leaned in, thrusting deep. “I know you need to let go, baby,” he whispered, so quietly that I wasn’t sure it was intended for me.
