Alex doesn’t rush.

He strokes me with the same steady rhythm he used that first night, thumb sweeping over the head on every upstroke, gathering the wetness there and using it to make the slide filthier. His other hand rests heavy on my thigh, keeping me open. I keep my face turned away for as long as I can, but the sounds I’m making are impossible to hide.

“Look at me,” he says quietly.

I do. The second our eyes meet, something inside my chest gives completely.

Alex leans down and kisses me.

It’s the first time. Slow, deep, claiming. I make a helpless noise against his mouth and kiss...