31. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE #3
“Need you,” I pant again, and this time there’s no embarrassment tangled up in it, no instinct to take the words back or pretend I mean anything less than exactly what I said. I fucking need him, enough that my body arches towards him, giving him whatever the hell he wants from me.
Then his fingers slide free, and the sudden emptiness drags a frustrated curse out of me.
My body clenches around nothing, trying to pull back fingers that aren’t there, and the frustrated sound that leaves me would be humiliating if I had enough functioning brain cells left to feel humiliation.
I grab a fistful of Connor’s shirt and drag him up my body, needing him closer, needing his weight pressing me into the mattress and his mouth somewhere I can reach it.
“Fuck me,” I pant, and Connor’s eyes snap to mine as I tighten my grip and pull until there isn’t any space left between us. “Please, Con.”
I catch his mouth, kissing him hard, swallowing whatever sound he makes as my other hand finds the back of his neck and keeps him there.
“Just fuck me already.”
Connor gives a rough, breathless laugh against my mouth, and my gaze slips between us to the shape of him straining against his jeans, thick and obvious beneath the denim.
My mouth goes dry, anticipation tightening through me until whatever patience I had left disappears completely. “Fuck, Con. Now.”
My hands are already at his shirt, grabbing at the fabric, trying to get it off him, but apparently I’ve forgotten how fucking clothes work. My fingers catch in the hem, then each other, frustration burning hotter when I can’t get him naked fast enough.
Connor catches both my wrists before I can reach for him again, pinning them still when I try to wrench free. An irritated sound catches in my throat, but his grip doesn’t give.
“Baby, breathe.”
Fuck. Between the quiet command and that fucking name, the fight drains out of me, my wrists going slack in his hands as I finally drag in the breath he’s asking for.
Connor leans down and kisses me, slow enough that it feels completely wrong after everything else. His mouth moves over mine without rushing, dragging me back into my own body when I hadn’t even realised how far out of it I’d gone.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against my lips, and I kiss him, trying to drag him back into me, but Connor slips out of reach and grabs the back of his shirt, pulling it over his head.
His hands move to his jeans, working them open before he pushes them down his hips, and I watch the entire time without even attempting to hide it. My mouth goes dry as the reality of what I was begging him for seconds ago settles through me all over again.
Fuck.
Still want it.
Maybe even more now.
I push myself up onto one elbow, my tongue swiping over my bottom lip while my eyes track down the length of him.
“Fuck.”
I reach for him, wrapping my hand around his cock, and Connor’s breath catches sharply above me. He’s hot against my palm, hard enough that my fingers barely close around him.
I drag my fist slowly up his length, taking my time with it, and Connor’s lips fall open, his head tipping back. A low groan catches in his throat, rough and restrained like he tried to keep it in and couldn’t quite manage it.
My attention snaps straight to his face.
“Shit, you’re hot.”
Blue eyes find mine, surprise flickering openly across his face. For a second he just stares at me, like somehow that is the thing tonight he wasn’t prepared for.
Colour starts spreading across his chest, crawling up his throat and into his cheeks, and fuck, that might be even hotter. Connor Reid kneeling over me with his cock in my hand, blushing because I called him hot.
A laugh threatens at the back of my throat, but it dies when Connor’s eyes narrow, his jaw setting as the embarrassment disappears from his face.
The dark look he gives me sends a sharp twist through my stomach, and I barely get, “Con—” out before his palm plants against my chest and pushes me flat onto the mattress.
My hand falls away from him as my back meets the bed, and Connor keeps his palm spread over my chest, holding me there while he looks down at me.
I should hate being pinned beneath anyone, and I know damn well anyone else trying it would probably end up with a broken fucking nose.
Connor plants one hand against my chest and somehow my body does the exact opposite, relaxing beneath the pressure, another thing he gets from me that nobody else does.
He shifts between my legs, and I let them fall wider, hands finding his sides as his weight settles over me and his mouth catches mine again.
Then his arm moves between us, and I feel him positioning himself.
The first press against me wipes everything else from my head. My body tenses beneath Connor.
His hand slides over my stomach, warm palm spreading flat against me.
“Look at me, baby.”
My eyes snap to his and stay there, caught on how fucking blue they are. Connor watches me carefully, the heat in his expression still there even though he’s gone completely still above me, making no attempt to push farther while he waits for the tension in my body to ease.
Then the smallest smile pulls at his mouth, soft enough that warmth spreads through the middle of my chest at possibly the worst fucking time.
“Relax for me, beautiful.”
My teeth catch my bottom lip as I drag in a slow breath, then another, Connor’s thumb stroking steadily across my stomach the entire time. I focus on the movement, on the warmth and weight of him over me, on those blue eyes that haven’t left mine since I tensed beneath him.
Beautiful.
Somehow, it fucking works. My stomach slowly unclenches and my thighs loosen around him, enough that when Connor starts moving again, I can breathe through the pressure instead of instinctively tensing against it.
“Fuck.”
My hands clamp around his sides as the stretch builds, burning enough that I feel every careful movement. Connor takes his time, watching my face while I adjust beneath him, and the patience somehow makes the whole thing feel even more intense.
My breath comes out in short, uneven bursts. I can feel my body resisting him and then giving.
“Jesus, Con.”
My back arches off the mattress.
Connor leans over me, both hands planting beside my head, caging me beneath him.
It should make me feel trapped, but somehow having Connor everywhere does the opposite. His chest is warm and solid above mine, his hips between my thighs while he slowly fills me, keeping me pinned beneath the weight of him in a way that makes me finally fucking settle.
My cock is caught between our stomachs, every small shift of Connor’s body dragging friction over it, and my legs wrap around his waist. I hook my ankles behind him and pull, needing him closer, deeper.
Connor’s eyes squeeze shut as a broken breath tears out of him, his hips jerking forward with the movement and taking me the rest of the way.
My mouth falls open.
Fuck.
The fullness hits all at once, enough to steal my breath as my fingers dig into his sides.
“You feel too fucking good,” Connor groans.
His hips twitch against mine, wanting to move, but he catches himself before he can, arms going rigid beside my head while his breathing turns rough against my face. I can feel how badly he wants to, how much effort it’s taking him to stay exactly where he is while he waits for me.
“Move.”
Connor’s eyes open and I grab his biceps, pulling him closer until there’s nowhere for either of us to go. “Fuck, Con, move.”
He still holds himself there, jaw tight, watching me like he needs something more before he’ll risk it, and whatever pride I had left disappears beneath the need clawing through me.
“Please.” My voice cracks around the word. “I can’t—”
Connor’s hand leaves the mattress, his thumb brushing over my cheek before his palm settles against my jaw, holding my face while he presses his forehead to mine.
I can feel how hard he’s breathing.
How badly he wants to move.
And somehow knowing Connor is hanging onto his control by a fucking thread because of me makes my cock jump between our stomachs.
Connor’s eyes squeeze shut briefly, like holding himself still is taking everything he has, but when they open again they find mine.
I don’t think anyone has ever looked at me like this, and I barely have time to deal with that before Connor starts to pull back, my fingers digging into his arms.
Every inch drags against me on the way, and my nails bite into his skin.
By the time Connor pulls almost all the way out, the loss of him has me clenching around his head, and then he pushes back in, stealing the breath from my lungs.
The sharpness from before is gone, leaving nothing but heat and pressure and that overwhelming fullness as his hips settle between mine again.
He does it again just as slowly, still treating me like I might fucking break if he moves too quickly, and I manage maybe two thrusts before whatever patience I had snaps.
The next time Connor pushes forward, I lift my hips to meet him and take him deeper. I do it again, catching the rhythm, pushing up when he comes forward and following when he pulls back until my body is moving with his.
More.
Fuck, I need more.
“God,” Connor mutters, and my head sinks into the pillow as another thrust knocks the breath out of me.
His eyes never leave my face. I can feel it even with my eyes half closed, those fucking blue eyes tracking every reaction I fail to hide, every time my mouth falls open or another sound gets dragged out of me.
It should make me want to cover something, swallow the noises before he can hear them, but instead the knowledge that he’s watching makes heat coil through me.
Connor’s thumb catches my bottom lip, pulling it free from my teeth before his mouth takes its place. I moan straight into the kiss as his tongue finds mine, his hips rolling forward harder at the same time and making my fingers dig into him.
“Only for me,” he murmurs against my mouth.
Heat twists low in my stomach. “What?”