“Try not calling it fucking for once.”
I gulped. Jesus, he can’t mean…? “I don’t get it.”
“Just tell me what you want to feel.”
“You.”
“Me? Or my cock?”
“Same thing.”
“No it isn’t, Kit. “ His laughter whispered over my skin, cool and taunting. “Tell me what you want.”
“Fuck.” I thumped the mattress with the hand that wasn’t curled under me, cradling my head. The hand that should have been reaching back to Steven’s hip, or grasping his hair as he nuzzled at my neck. And he laughed, because my frustration was obvious. “I don’t know.”
“Yes you do. You just don’t know how to say it.”
“I don’t understand why you’re being like this.”
“Demanding? Oh, Kit, if you think this is demanding, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”
“Just fucking get your cock in me, would you?” I had to whisper because we weren’t alone in the house, and thanked God it was dark, and I faced away from him. In daylight, or with the lamp on, facing him, with privacy allowing us to turn up the volume? I wasn’t sure if I could have borne that.
“That’s more like it.” Steven laughed almost under his breath, his body weight forcing me face down on the bed, one knee nudging my legs apart. “It’ll do for now, anyway.”
“What more do you want?”
“For you to stop being so remote.”
“I’m hardly being remote when you’ve got your cock up my arse.”
“Not yet I don’t. Oh. Oh Jesus.” He groaned with the first inch, but I couldn’t make a sound. His groan turned to a long, low exhalation halfway between a gasp or a sigh the deeper he went.
Both of my hands clawed at nothing in particular and I think the sheet or the edge of a pillowcase bunched underneath them but the only thing I was fully aware of was the fact Steven was inside me. He was inside me and it felt just this side of oh-God-this-is-too-much.
“Fuck. You are really testing my self-control, Kit.” He circled his hips, a surprisingly gentle motion considering he was just about deep enough for me to feel his balls against the arse he was fucking too damn slowly. Yes, he moved slowly, but that was still enough to stretch me and make me feel every inch.
“How am I testing your self-control? I’m not—”
He pulled out an inch or two. Paused.
“—doing anything.”
“Because you make me want to do this,” he growled, pushing all the way back in, and it took all the strength I had to keep my gasp turning into a loud groan. “Only harder.”
“Fuck. Steven.”
“Can’t have anyone hearing, can we?” he asked, the playful tone of his voice laced with the sheerest thread of sarcasm.
“Well, no. They’d wonder—”
“Wonder nothing. They’d know exactly what was going on if I did this hard enough to make you scream.”
“Don’t.”
“I know you’re a screamer, Kit.” He used his weight to nudge me onto my front, but propped himself up on both arms above me, thankfully. My cock might have been hard enough to drill a hole through concrete but face down on the bed with Steven’s driving into me with his full weight behind it might have been a little more uncomfortable than I could bear. “I know you can be.”
“Jesus.” I loved hearing him when he was like this but didn’t know if my tenuous self-control would hold out.
“See, times like this, oh God…” Steven circled his hips and his quiet, throaty growl echoed mine. “Times like this when you want to let go, but you’re paranoid about fuck… keeping it all in…” He hissed in a deep breath and I rested my forehead against a bunched-up pile of pillows, heaving in as much oxygen as I could, staying as quiet and still as I could. “Hips. Lift your hips up.”
Oh fuck, not that. Anything but that. But knowing how much I liked it was probably why he did it, and probably why I obediently struggled to shift my weight so I could get on my knees.
We tangled, but Steven managed to stay inside me, moving deeper in fact when I spread my legs and the momentary shock of it, something like pain, made me grunt.
“Careful.” He laughed softly, and I wished I could see him. My own reticence kept me face down and blind. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Fine.” I gulped when his hands curved over my hipbones, let him pull me in. He moved in deeper, almost shoving himself forward as hard as he could and in an instant my eyes misted over and I barely resisted the urge to sniff. If he thought he was making me cry…
I couldn’t figure out what would be worse—Steven stopping out of concern for my physical comfort, or him carrying on and driving me to admit something I wasn’t yet ready for.
His fingers tightened round my hip then spread out, searching, just touching my skin and sliding back into place with every rock back and forth. The bed creaked under us, mere protests against our combined weight and for seconds or minutes or hours, I wasn’t sure, we said nothing. Just breathed.
Then Steven’s breath deepened, and he said but two words. “You know.”
My heart sank in relief. I’d thought he was about to speed up and some small part of me said not yet, don’t let this be over yet.
“You know, you wouldn’t have to worry about making a noise if you were lying on your back.”
“Yes, I would.” It was getting harder and harder to keep it in, to suppress the need to cry out, and speaking just pushed me closer to the edge. The only thing I could do was grit my teeth and pray that when I needed to speak, words were all that came out, and not the groan rippling the back of my throat, ready to tear through the quiet of the bedroom.
“No, because then…” One of Steven’s hands left my hip, wandered up my back, pressing against every ridge
