The Warm Up - Episode 4

Her fingers dragged the lace down her hips until the fabric caught at her knees. She stepped free, hips shifting, thighs parting wider than modesty would allow. His gaze tracked the motion like he owned the right to watch. When he pushed inside her the first thrust drove a small sound from her throat, one she tried to swallow. She didn't want to give him everything at once. He leaned over her, mouth against her neck, teeth grazing the skin hard enough to leave a mark. Her nails bit into his back as he moved again, deeper, slower, until she opened around him completely. Sweat slicked between them. The sheets twisted under her heels. His hand slid beneath her ass, lifting her to meet each stroke, the angle changing, making her breath catch and break. She turned her face into his shoulder to muffle the moan that came anyway. He didn't stop. His rhythm stayed measured, cruel in how patient it felt, each push and drag designed to keep her hovering right on the edge. She felt every inch of him. The stretch, the heat, the way her body tightened around his cock when he bottomed out. He whispered something low against her ear but she didn't catch the words, only the shape of his voice. Her thighs trembled. She reached between them, fingers finding where they joined, touching herself while he fucked her. The added pressure sent her hips jerking. He groaned, teeth sinking into her collarbone. The sound pulled something tight in her chest. She came like that, sudden and sharp, body locking around him, breath gone. He followed a moment later, spilling inside her with a rough exhale against her skin. Neither of them moved right away. Their breathing filled the room. Sweat cooled. He stayed buried in her until her pulse settled, until the aftershocks faded to nothing but a faint throb. Then he eased out, slow, careful, and pressed his mouth to the inside of her knee like it was an apology. She lay there open, wrecked, watching him through half-closed eyes.