I give my body completely to him, not knowing what the future will bring besides the escape I so desperately need.
When he lowers me to my feet, he doesn’t release me. His hand slides away, but only so he can grab the waistband of my jeans and frantically jerk them off me. He moves closer, angling his body until my seam rests against the shaft of his cock. My body responds, my hips swiveling and twitching, trying to get him inside me.
“Not yet,” he murmurs, drawing his crown across my aching cleft until it throbs with expectation.
My eyes have been closed since the moment he first put his hands on me: I wanted to lose myself from the real world, to escape to somewhere else, to be consumed by him. But I can’t help my eyelids fluttering as some distant part of my brain tries to discover the reason for my denial.
We’re in the bathroom, facing the mirror. I’m naked from the waist down, my t-shirt pulled halfway up my stomach under his strong arm—and Sterling? Every inch of him is naked, but I can only enjoy the parts not hidden behind me: the massive swell of his biceps, the strong slope of his shoulders, the slab of abs peeking from the curve of my waist.
Sterling’s face is waiting for my eyes to open, for me to process where we are. He counterbalances in order to kick the door closed, and I distantly register Zeus’s skittering nails on the tiles outside.
“I want you to see what I see when I love you,” he says, fixing me with a relentless gaze.
I watch, now completely unable to close my eyes, as he coaxes my seam back and forth along his shaft, the head of his cock bumping against my clit only to slide back away. My legs tremble under me from the effort of holding out for more.
“You’re fucking perfect, Lucky. Christ, just look at you.” His eyes are possessive, but there’s something selfless in his attention to my body. He could take me any moment, but he seems obsessed with making this linger.
He spreads me open, wide enough that I can see where his cock is stroking against me. I want to see what he does, but my eyes stray to the dimples on my thighs, the thickness of my hips. It’s too much and I turn my head from the reflection.
“No,” he says. The hand wrapped around my torso reaches up to point my chin back toward the mirror. “You need to understand.”
I train my eyes on our reflection, finding his own gaze burning into me. Sterling slides his arm down and around my waist, lifting me off my feet, just high enough that his cock springs upward, banging against the open target his other hand created and sending convulsions throughout my body.
“I will never stop giving to you,” he says. “Because you won’t let me.”
He takes his cock in his hand and centers against me. My breath catches when he begins his slow, excruciating slide inside.
“Are you watching, Lucky?”
When I don’t respond he begins to slide out of me, and I sputter my reply, “Yes.”
He allows my weight to slide down along his chest, his cock disappearing inside me as I fight to focus on how he makes me feel and not my body. It gets easier with every glorious inch. He holds me like that, his cock half-buried inside me, so that I can see it all.
“This is what I need to show you.” He only mouths the words, but I hear it like a booming command.
I watch, absent any conscious direction on my part, as my body takes over. My hips roll back and forth. Somehow, another inch of him slides into me. I feel the pressure increase, but also the ache for more of him.
I’ve stopped breathing. My lungs burn, but my body seems to think his cock is more important than air. My hips begin to wiggle, then to spasm, jerking down onto his shaft.
When his shaft is fully engulfed, the clenched knot in my throat disappears, sending sweet air back into my lungs. I shudder and gasp, my eyes finding his in the reflection.
“Do you see?” he asks. “You don't need to be saved. You never have. You need to be found, so understand what I'm saying now—I see you. I want you. I always have. I always will.”
Strange, shimmering lights float in my vision. Thoughts are fuzzy, words getting lost between my brain and my lips.
Sensing my confusion, he leans to kiss me, then nips my ear. “I noticed it the first time we made love.”
I nuzzle into the hollow of his neck, beneath his jaw. The spice of his cologne is warm and calming. Relief floods me, my body shivering at the release of so much tension. I’ve found the place I need to be, and I want to stay there forever.
“You need me more than air, Lucky.” He isn’t bragging or teasing.
I don’t bother trying to correct or object. They are foreign concepts, held by a version of me who only exists in a different place than the one we’ve just created. I don’t care what she thinks. I only want this me—the one he’s showing me. The Adair he sees. I want to exist in his eyes alone.
So, I allow my body to go limp in his arms.
His stroke is long and slow, hitting against my g-spot and releasing waves of warmth and drawing hollow moans from my lips. Our tempo increases steadily, building alongside the pressure of taking all of him.
I spy flashes of us in the mirror, a rapture of limbs
