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Her body locks beneath mine, every pulse tightening around my cock while my name tears from her throat. I hold her face, refusing to let distance, memory, or fear steal a second of watching her come with me inside her.
“That’s my girl,” I tell her. “Let me feel everything the phone only allowed me to hear.”
She cries out as another contraction moves through her.
I keep thrusting, slow enough to extend the pleasure and deep enough to pull another wave through her body. Tears spill from the corners of her eyes, but her mouth is open around a smile.
“You’re crying,” I say.
“You’re inside me.”
“That happened in the kitchen.”
“You’re loving me now.”
The answer nearly ends me.
I press my forehead to hers and breathe through the need to lose control.
“I was loving you in the kitchen.”
“I know.” Her hands move against my face. “I can feel you letting me see it now.”
No one has ever understood the difference.
My body has always been easy to give away. The things beneath it required trust I offered so rarely that most people assumed they didn’t exist.
Charm sees all of it.
She sees the man who dragged her against a counter because waiting another minute felt impossible. She sees the one holding her now as though fucking her and protecting the place she occupies inside him have become the same act.
“Let go,” she whispers.
I shake my head.
“Ryan.”
“I’m not finished.”
“You promised all night. You didn’t promise one round.”
A laugh breaks through the pressure in my chest.
Charm tightens her legs around me and deliberately clenches.
My breath catches.
“You’re evil.”
“No-filter Charm is resourceful.”
“You’re going to regret that.”
“I hope so.”
She does it again.
The last of my control begins tearing apart.
