He’s mine, like this, mine in a way that’s so potent I’m nearly giddy with it. He quivers for me, he gasps for me. He grabs at grass and clenches his jaw for me. And when I crawl back up over him, there’s nothing but wild desperation in his face. A king at his final battle. A god at the burning of his temple.
“Don’t stop,” he begs. “Don’t leave.”
“I won’t,” I promise, kissing him again. “I won’t. I’m not done yet.”
“Yours,” he says, still begging. “Let me feel yours.”
Lust punches me right in the stomach. I’m fumbling at my zipper almost before he even finishes speaking, shoving my jeans down far enough to expose myself. The minute I lower my hips and rub against his slick erection, we both grunt. His c**k is so hard, so slippery, and I have to press all the way against him
