I expect an argument. I fully expect Juliet to rear up from the bed, eyes flashing, and end the entire thing. 

I underestimated her completely. 

Instead, she gives herself over to me again, lying back on the bed, her hips rising toward me, and lets me go back to the kind of exquisite torture that I was just fantasizing about in my own shower.

She tastes so sweet, her juices are so fucking delicious, that it’s going to be hard for me to stop. But my cock is so hard it aches, and sooner or later, I need to take her, to make her mine.

But first I have to give her what she asked for.

I increase the pressure on her hot center, even as she tries to cover her mouth, moans escaping from around her fingers, and I drag two of my fingertips down the inside of her thigh, then press them inside her opening. With her clit in my mouth, my tongue pulsing around it, I fuck her with my fingers. Her moans get deeper, louder. She’s right on the edge.

I twist my hand, pulling my mouth away from her, and press my thumb against her clit at the same moment that I curl my fingers inside of her, reaching the hidden spot. “Come, angel,” I tell her, my voice firm and demanding, and it drives her right over the precipice into a shattering orgasm that has her crying out, her pussy clenching around my fingers and her hips dancing to a wild, out-of-control beat. 

Just when she turns the corner, the shaking beginning to subside, I reach my limit.

I can’t wait anymore.

I wipe my arm across my mouth and move upward, balancing myself above her, and take her mouth again, covering hers with mine. She’s still moaning, little noises catching in my own mouth, and even though she’s flushed from the last orgasm, she spreads her legs underneath me, her hands scrambling to touch my skin. She runs her fingertips down the ridges of my abs.

“Do you like it?” I growl into her ear. She can’t answer, except for a quick intake of breath. “Do you like being mine, angel?”

“Yes.” A quick whisper, a flutter to her voice.

“Turn over.”

She twists underneath me, and I rise up on my knees, taking her hips in my hands and pulling her into the position I pictured earlier. My cock twitches. It’s even better in person. It’s a thousand times better in person. Juliet pushes up on her hands, arching her head back when I reach around underneath her, rolling her nipples between my fingertips.

“I want you. I need you.”

I let the phrases fall into the open air.

Juliet groans. “Stop, Weston. Stop torturing me.”

“You’re not enjoying this?” I circle her nipples with my fingers, then drag my fingertips back down to her swollen clit. She thrusts her hips back at me, more of her juices pooling between her legs.

“I’m enjoying it too much.” Her voice drops when she has to admit the truth. “I’m enjoying it so much it hurts...”

“But it’s a good hurt, isn’t it, angel?”

“God, yes. But I need—” She stops herself as I push three fingers inside her, moving them in and out like I have all the time in the world.

“Tell me what you need.” 

Her hands grip tightly on the comforter beneath her, fistfuls of white beneath her knuckles. “I need you to fuck me.”

“I love it when you beg.”

“Please fuck me, Weston. Please. I can’t take it. I can’t wait any longer. Please…” It’s instinctual, from the raw core of her, and I don’t make her ask a second time.

I line up the head of my cock with her opening. It’s immediately slick with her wetness, and she tenses, pushing her body back toward me.

“You’re mine.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I thrust forward, taking her with one powerful stroke.

She cries out, her tightness enveloping me, her heat taking me over completely, and I drive my hips forward, diving deep. Juliet spreads her legs another inch and bucks back against my hips. Deeper. I push forward until I meet a boundary deep inside of her, my hips pressed firmly against her luscious ass.

“No going back now,” I tell her, and all of her muscles clench around me. 

I fuck her hard. I fuck her deep. I fuck her with total abandon. It’s been months—years—since I let myself take what I wanted without any thought of deadlines, of limits, of how long it’s going to be until the woman in my bed turns on me, demanding to be saved. Juliet doesn’t want to be saved. She doesn’t need to be saved. She only needs to be mine, and the way she writhes and moans underneath me is all the evidence I need.

We come together like melding stars, the energy so intense that I’m surprised someone doesn’t knock at the door or pound on the walls, screaming at us to shut the hell up. 

Juliet comes again and again over my cock, so many times that commands become pointless, a pleasure tool for another time. Every time I touch her clit she shudders and moans, her pussy gripping me so tightly, it’s a miracle I can thrust at all.

I’m riding the edge, about to plummet over it headfirst, and Juliet must feel it. “Wait—”

She scrambles forward, not far enough to lose contact, but far enough for her to reach a small bedside table taking up all the space between the bed and the television stand. She pulls open a drawer and takes a small foil packet out, shoving it into my hand.

It’s all I can do to get the condom on before I pull her back into place, entering her again with all my strength, and the cry that it forces from her—somewhere between a moan and a scream—is all it takes.

I come so hard, I forget my own name for way longer than I should, my vision going dim at the edges, and when I finally come down, I’m curled up with Juliet’s back pressed against my chest, my arm wrapped protectively around her. We’re still for a long time, and then she laughs, a slow, languid laugh that sends a shock of pleasure down my spine.

She rolls onto her back, and I look down into her violet eyes. “What’s so funny?”

“I thought it would be good,” she admits. “I had no idea it would be that good.” Then she bites her lip, her eyes narrowing.

“What is it?”

“I just think—” She takes in a breath, her nipples already hard. “I think we should do that again. Just to be sure.”