He fumbles in his pocket, withdraws his wallet, finds a condom, rips it open, and takes it out. I watch him roll it down the length of his erection with my heart in my throat. As soon as he’s situated, he grabs my thigh, pushes me against the wall, pulls my leg up to his waist, and angles himself between my hips.
I feel him, hot and hard between my legs, hungry for me, and cling to his shoulders as he finds the way of it with one sure, hard thrust.
We both groan in relief as he slides inside.
Finally.
I feel him everywhere at once, in my fingers and toes, underneath my eyelids. He’s the burning-hot center of me, the center of everything, my breath and my heartbeat, the life in my cells. I don’t know how I ever imagined s*x was adequate before this. His body is a revelation, but it’s no
