As with his kiss, it starts gently but quickly turns passionate. We’re both frantic, greedy and grasping, wild with need. I meet every thrust of his hips with one of my own, grabbing his ass to take him deeper. Starting to buck, he rears up onto his hands and throws his head back. I draw my knees up around his waist and gaze in wonder at his beautiful body, all his muscles bunched and straining, the strong column of his throat painted pale from a sliver of moonlight filtering through the clouds.
He moans, faltering.
“What’s wrong?”
Lowering himself to his elbows, he rests atop me and nuzzles my neck. With one hand, he reaches between our bodies and flattens his hand over my belly. Then he lifts his head and looks at me with a question in his eyes.
“You don’t have to worry,” I whisper,
