My back was slammed against my front door the second it closed behind us.
Clay pushed into me with everything that he was, the entirety of his body covering mine. His hips pinned me against the wood, my legs wrapping around him, heels digging into his ass and begging for more. His hands gripped my hips hard as he kissed me, lips soft and warm and somehow tender in their demand.
I opened for him, softening with every touch, releasing every bit of tension that had weaved itself into my bones since the night he walked away from me. And as if he could sense that was where my head had gone, he intertwined his hands with mine, holding them beside my head as he pressed his chest hard against my own.
“This was why I left last week,” he whispered into the space between us, his forehead to mine, our breaths labored between. “I walked away from you even when everything in my body begged me to stay. Because when I took you for the first time, I didn’t want it to be under the guise of any of this between us being fake.”
He squeezed my hands in his own, kissing my chin until I tipped it up and allowed him access to my neck.
“This isn’t fake,” he swore against my skin, kissing and nipping it along the way. “Nothing between us has ever been fake.”
His mouth was on mine in the next breath, and then I was being carried through my apartment — mostly blindly as I hadn’t had time to even turn a light on. The only one was from above my stove, and it just barely lit up the space, darkness battling with the light in every corner.
Clay was careful as he lowered me onto the bed, and I sat at the edge of it as he backed away from me, taking his heat with him.
With his eyes watching me, he reached for the back of his hoodie and tore it over his head, flinging it to the side before he did the same with the t-shirt underneath. I reached out, my fingertips just barely getting a taste of his abdomen before he peeled them away and sat them at my sides again.
“Strip for me.”
His words were hot, confident, and sealed with intention as he stepped even farther away and kicked off his sneakers before carefully ridding himself of his sweatpants.
He was a masterpiece there in nothing but his black boxer briefs, briefs that were strained as they held back his thickening erection. Clay’s eyes heated more when I grabbed the wrist of my hoodie, tugging it off one arm and then the other before I peeled it overhead.
My nipples were peaked under my tank top, the thin fabric easily disposed of in the next second. I snapped my gaze to meet his when my chest was bare, and his eyes dropped to take me in, a low groan rolling from his throat at the sight.
His hand slid down his abdomen and beneath the band of his briefs, stroking himself as his eyes trailed to where my sweatpants were still fastened around my hips. I reclined back onto the comforter, using my heels on the floor to push my hips up and slide the thick fabric down my thighs, my knees, until the pants pooled at my feet.
“Stop right there.”
Clay advanced on me, taking only a moment to slip out of his briefs before he was towering over me at the edge of the bed. I rested on the heels of my hands, panting, throbbing for him as he raked his gaze over every bare inch of me.
“Up,” he said, grabbing my wrist to help me. And once I was standing, he spun me, gathering my hair in one massive hand and pulling it to the side so he could whisper his next words against my neck. “Wanna know why you didn’t feel anything with him?”
His question was lost on me, because his hand released my hair, trailing down my ribs and hips until his fingertips hooked in the cotton of my boy shorts. One swift pull had them over my ass, and another freed them from around my thighs until they dropped to my ankles to join my sweatpants.
“I’ve been reading your books,” he continued, tongue lashing out to taste my earlobe before he nibbled it. The sound of his breath in my ear combined with that little bite sent chills racing down my legs, and I arched into him, my ass meeting his firm erection that slid between my warm cheeks.
He groaned at the contact, but kept on with his slow torture, hands crawling up my abdomen until he was softly plucking at each nipple.
“I know what you want,” he rasped. “What you don’t want.”
He twisted my nipple between his finger and thumb, a small snap of pain quickly covered by a roll of pleasure as he massaged my full breast in the next breath.
“You don’t want soft, sweet, tender,” he told me, punctuating each word with a kiss against the back of my neck. He trailed those kisses down until his teeth were sinking into the flesh at my shoulder, and I hissed before a guttural moan I’d never heard myself release before filled the space around us.
Clay grinned, kissing the spot he’d just bitten.
“You want possession,” he continued, one hand sliding down, down, down as the other traveled up over my breasts. “You want someone to take control, to ravage you.”
He cupped me between the legs at the same time his other hand wrapped around my throat, and the double sensation made me shudder violently, collapsing into him in the most sincere surrender.
“Shawn is an artist, a musician,” he whispered against my ear, his grip on my neck tightening a bit. It made my next breath a little harder to grasp.
And I fucking loved it.
“But you’re in control of so much in your life — the team, your job, school…” His middle finger slid between my labia, gliding into the wetness pooled there for him before he dragged it back out and circled my clit. I trembled at the feel of it, but he held me steady as he continued. “So in the bedroom, you want that duty to be on someone else.”
I couldn’t verbalize my agreement — mostly because I hadn’t realized it until that moment that he pointed it out, though every sentiment he spoke rang so true, I wanted to throw my hands up and scream amen. But also, because every ounce of my awakening was tapped into his hands, the one around my throat and the one between my legs, each claiming me in equal measure.
“You don’t want to be someone’s muse,” Clay rasped. “You want to be someone’s undoing. And let me tell you, Kitten…” His voice rumbled against my ear before he sucked the lobe between his teeth. “You’re mine.”
I whimpered at the admission, at the knowledge that I could be the undoing of such a powerful, explosive man. Then, all at once, all his warmth left me, hands and mouth disappearing, all but the pressure to spin me around to face him again. I nearly fell with how my ankles were still tied up by my pants, but Clay steadied me.
We were heaving chest to heaving chest, Clay’s emerald eyes sparking a fire low in my belly as he dragged the tip of his nose along the bridge of mine.
“You read my books,” I breathed, a question and a disbelief all at once.
“Fuck yeah, I did.”
“Why?”
Clay swallowed, brushing his knuckles along the side of my cheek. “I told myself it was to help you get Shawn,” he said. “But in truth, it was to help me please you.”
I shivered as those words rolled over me, my nipples hardening at the cold air and the delicious warmth of that sentiment.
He wants to please me.
He read my fucking books.
“Now,” he said, running one hand roughly up the front of me. His fingers dove up between my breasts, thumb sliding over my nipple on the way up to my neck. He gripped it for only a second before his hand was framing my jaw, tilting my chin, his thumb sliding to cover my mouth. He circled my lips with the pad of it, dragging the bottom one down slowly until it popped free. “Get on your knees for me, Kitten.”
I dropped so fast Clay smirked, and then he wrapped his hand around his length, guiding it to my lips. I lapped up the precum rolling off his tip like a drop of dew, moaning at the taste of him before I took his full crown along my tongue.
He bit out a curse, eyes rolling back before he let his head drop, too. His hand cradled my head, fingertips curling in my hair as he helped me suck him. I knew just what to do after our lesson, how to roll my tongue along his shaft and hold him deep in my throat before releasing him with a little gag. And Clay took every stroke I gave him with pure adoration and appreciation, his eyes crawling over me or casting up toward the ceiling when it became too much.
It wasn’t long enough that I was down there for him before he was hiking me back up, helping me out of the clothes still restraining my ankles before he laid me back into the bed. He grabbed his sweatpants then, reaching into the pocket for something that he sat on the bedside table before he was crawling on top of me.
“That made you so wet last time,” he mused, trailing hot, peppery kisses down my ribs and across my hips. “Let’s see if it had the same effect tonight.”
He settled between my thighs, taking each one on his shoulders before he dipped his nose between them. He teased my clit with that brush before his tongue dragged soft and slow over my folds, and I trembled at how badly I wanted him to separate them, to dip inside and give me the connection I needed.
“Fucking soaked,” he confirmed, and he sucked my clit with tender care before one hand slid under his mouth and tested the wetness at my entrance. “Absolutely drenched for me, Kitten.”
I loved how he talked to me, how every dirty word made me arch and pant and ache for him. I wanted to do it, too, to talk back to him and make him feel the same. But I was shocked silent by every touch, every kiss, every warm lash of his tongue against my bud as he used his fingers to slowly spread my lips and toy with my entrance.
“Show me how you want it,” he whispered against the sensitive flesh. “Use my hand to fuck yourself.”
I mewled, chest heaving, and I watched through hooded lids as Clay guided my hand to his before dipping between my legs once more. He hovered there at my entrance until I pressed his fingers inside me, my desire so thick he slid in without much resistance, and we both moaned as he filled me.
“God, I love feeling that tight pussy stretch open for me,” he rasped, and I shook around his fingers as he withdrew them and pumped them in again at my grip’s request.
Slow and steady, he worked me open, licking at my clit in time with his fingers — though I controlled those. He went at the pace my hand around his directed him to, and it wasn’t long before I was writhing under his tongue and fingers, so close to coming I could feel the fire catching at the end of every nerve of my body.
“Clay,” I begged, and he knew what I needed without another word. He took control, his fingers pumping in and out of me in the same sort of rhythm I’d directed before they slowly picked up pace. His tongue kept time, and my fists twisted in the sheets just in time for me to come, my body shaking and heart racing far too fast as I exploded into a million little stars.
I’d only had a few, but every time seemed better than the last, like my body was learning more and more how to come undone and take full advantage of the pleasure Clay was determined to bring me.
I cried out with the last of it, trembling in his grip before I fell completely lax.
“That’s my girl,” Clay praised, and he licked up my release like it was his only meal before slowly crawling up my body. “I hope you know that’s just the first one tonight.”
I smiled, laughing a bit as my breath steadied. But then I was seeking him again, hands wrapping around his neck and pulling him into me for a deep kiss.
“I’m ready.”
Clay swallowed, meeting my warm kisses with his own before he reached blindly for whatever he’d put on the bedside table. When I heard the foil tear, I realized what it was.
My heart hammered to a gallop in my chest, beating so loud and hard I could hear it in my ears. I imagined Clay could hear it, too, because he paused with the condom in his hand, using the other to brush the hair from my eyes.
“We can wait,” he offered.
“No.”
I reached for the condom, plucking it from his fingers and kissing him as I blindly felt for his erection between us. When I gripped him, slowly rolling the condom over his length, he moaned into my mouth, hips flexing into the rubber as I continued stretching it over him.
“I need you inside me,” I whispered, rolling my hips to meet his. “I want you to be the first one to fill me, Clay. I want you to be the first one I feel like this.”
He growled, biting my bottom lip as he reached between us for my wrists. He pinned both by my head, leaning up a bit to take in the length of me as I panted and writhed beneath him.
“You want me to be the only one,” he corrected me, and fuck if I didn’t gasp out a weak yes in affirmation.
Clay’s eyelids fluttered at the word, and his jaw was tight as he reached between us and adjusted himself at my entrance. I kept my hands where he’d placed them, even with his grip gone, twisting my fingertips into the pillow at my head as I held on for dear life.
His crown slipped between my lips, and he ran it up through my wetness before sliding it down to my entrance. He paused then, his eyes finding mine, and then he tested it, flexing forward just enough to stretch me open for him.
I gasped, that same familiar cocktail of pleasure and pain surfacing from the first time he fingered me.
The dominance faded from his face, brows folding together as he lowered himself down to his elbows and brought his lips to mine.
“Okay?” he asked softly.
I nodded, wrapping my arms around him and sliding my fingers into his hair. I gripped him to me, kissing him harder as I tucked my hips just enough to help him slide a centimeter more.
We both inhaled a stiff breath at the feel of it, and then Clay took control again, withdrawing that small bit of his tip before he flexed forward and filled me even more.
The pain intensified, but it was smoothed quickly as he kissed me and took his time, each roll of his hips stretching me open just a little more. Over and over, again and again, inch by blissful inch — he opened me, sliding in deeper and deeper as he kissed me reverently, his thundering heart matching the beat of my own.
And then, with a hiss and a moan, he filled me.
We both shuddered when he was fully inside, and I clung to him, nails digging into the flesh of his back as he softly kissed where his head was buried in my neck.
“Goddamn, Kitten,” he groaned, withdrawing only to flex fully inside me again. “You feel so fucking incredible.”
I couldn’t speak to tell him he felt the same, because too fast for it to be normal, another orgasm built heavy and hot in my gut.
“I… I…”
I tried to say it, tried to bring the words out that would let him know what I was feeling. Whether he knew or not, I couldn’t be sure, but he gave me just what I needed. He slipped out of me only to slide back in, finding a rhythm as he kissed my neck and massaged my breast in his large, warm hand.
The sensations battled for my attention, and I spread my thighs even wider for him, needing more.
Clay pressed up onto the palms of his hands, towering over me, and I watched the sensuous roll of his body as he fucked me. It was the most gorgeous, most hedonistic sight I’d ever seen in my life. His abs contracted and released with every roll, his heavy eyes locked on mine as he drove me closer to the edge.
“Clay,” I whispered, as scared as I was excited for the feeling building inside me.
“Take it,” he demanded.
My hand shot down between my legs, and it took only the softest roll of my fingertips over my clit in time with him pumping in and out of me to find my release.
I quaked and cried out, this one even more powerful than the last, more powerful than any I’d ever experienced before in my life. My walls tightened around him as he kept pace, and I shook and writhed in the sheets, reaching out to drag my nails down the valleys and peaks of his abdomen.
“Fuck, Giana,” he groaned, and just as my orgasm was fading out, his pace quickened.
He was close.
I pressed up onto my own palms, heels of my feet finding the bed so I could meet his thrusts with my own.
“Oh shit,” he cursed, watching my breasts bounce wildly as I met his eager pumps, and I captured his mouth with my own just as he groaned out his release.
I felt it, felt him twitching inside me as his seed spilled into the condom. I was so sensitive I could feel every rivulet as it expended from him, and my mouth watered with the desire to taste him like I had that night at the observatory.
It was the fiercest rush I’d known in my life, to make Clay come, to feel him release inside me and know it was me who’d brought him that pleasure.
He collapsed onto me, forcing me to sink into the sheets as one of his hands painfully gripped my hip and he pumped out the last of his orgasm. He trembled when he was spent, forehead dropping to mine as we both panted, our slick skin dampening each other and the sheets.
And as fiercely as he had taken control, he surrendered it back to me.
“Are you okay?” he asked softly, searching my gaze before he pressed a gentle kiss to my nose.
“I’m fucking amazing.”
He smiled, one brow arching up as he flexed his softening member inside me. “That makes two of us.” He paused. “Come. Let’s shower.”
Carefully, he removed himself from inside me, disposing of the condom before he helped me stand. I didn’t realize I needed help until I tried to walk on my shaky legs, thighs aching in protest from how I’d flexed every muscle in my body chasing both of my releases.
Clay ran the shower warm before helping me step inside, and he came in right behind me, closing the curtain and enveloping us in a warm, dark enclave.
His arms wrapped me up as the water washed down my back, and I sighed at the contentment that spread over me, the pure ecstasy of that moment.
Clay held me like that for a long while before he pulled back, swallowing as his eyes flicked back and forth between mine. He grabbed my face in his hands, thumbs against my jaw forcing me to look at him as he said, “Thank you for trusting me with that, for letting me be your first.”
I bit against my smile, shaking my head. “You really are like a book boyfriend, you know?”
At that, he chuckled, tucking me into his chest again before pressing a kiss against my wet hair. “I’ll be even better,” he said. “Just wait and see.”
And I had absolutely zero doubts that was a promise he wouldn’t break.
