Burning Hot (a collection of short stories)
He holds there, barely inside, letting me adjust, letting me feel every inch of stretch as he inches forward.
My nails rake down his back.
My breath hitches, he’s slightly thicker than Victor, longer too, and the burn is exquisite, borderline too much, exactly enough.
“More” I demand, voice wrecked. “Give me all of it”
He exhales shakily, forehead pressed to mine, and then he thrusts, slow, deep, relentless, until he’s buried to the hilt. My back arches off the mattress.
A sharp cry spills out of me, fuck, he’s so deep I swear I can feel his tip kiss my cervix, filling every empty space, pressing against places that make stars burst behind my eyelids all at once.