Phil must be sore.
We haven’t had enough time to get really physical lately.
I . . . wasn’t rough though.
Slow, steady—and his body was soaked, plenty of lubrication. I kept busting inside of him, spreading my juices everywhere—
Trembling.
Both of us were shaking, my hips barely even moving anymore, mouth crashing down over his lips—f*****g bliss. I’d been so lost in his body, his touch, his scent, his voice—when I felt his tears, I couldn’t place why he’d be crying—sore, I guess.
Crazy that his body could stretch so much to take me to the hilt.
Wild that he could make me feel like this.
I didn’t want to stop.
When I stop, he’ll try to get me to leave.
I don’t want to go.
“Theo,” he grumbles, complaining as I half lay on him while he
