Page 84 of One Adult, Please

"Then stop teasing and get inside me."

"Bossy."

"You're surprised?"

He laughs again, and then he's hooking his fingers in my underwear and pulling it down my legs.

I do the same to him, shoving his boxer briefs down his hips, and then there's nothing between us. Just skin and heat.

He fishes a condom from the pocket of his discarded pants.

I raise a brow.

"First-aid station had condoms."

"Of course you inventoried the condoms."

"I inventoried everything."

He tears the wrapper with his teeth, rolls it on, and leans down to kiss me, gentle this time. He lines himself up. The blunt head of his cock nudges against me, sliding through wetness, and then he pushes in slow, letting me adjust to each inch.

My head tips back and I moan as he sinks deeper, deeper, until his hips are flush against mine and I'm so full I can barely breathe.

The first thrust steals my breath. The second makes me dig my nails into his back. By the third I'm lost, rhythm and heat and the slick slide of him inside me. When I gasp, he does it again. When I moan, he replicates the conditions.

Every time he pulls back I chase him with my hips. His hand slides under my thigh, hikes my leg higher, changes the angle, and suddenly he's hitting something inside me that makes me cry out.

"There," I gasp. "Right there, don't stop."

"I'm not stopping," he promises. "Not until you come for me."

He keeps hitting the spot. For minutes or hours or years, I can't tell, time's stopped working properly.

"You feel so fucking good, Grace. So tight. So wet. Been thinking about this every time I looked at you today. Every time I wanted to fill you up with my cock."

I make a noise that's half laugh, half moan. "You're, ah, you're filthy when you're inside me."

He fucks me deeper, faster, the bench protesting beneath us.

"Joel." His name is a plea. A demand.

"I know." His voice is strained now, ragged, the control finally cracking. "I know, I'm close too, just stay with me. Look at me."

I open my eyes. I didn't know I'd closed them again. He's above me, beautiful and wrecked, his eyes burning into mine.

"Come on my cock, Grace. Let me feel it."

My whole body locks up, back arching, mouth open on a silent scream that turns into a broken sob-laugh as pleasure crashes over me in relentless pulses. Joel fucks me through it, drawing it out until I'm shaking and gasping and completely undone.

Only then does he let go.

He buries his face in my neck, hips stuttering, and comes with a low groan. I feel every throb, every involuntary pulse, and it tips me into another smaller aftershock that makes me clench around him.

We hang there for a long moment, suspended, trembling against each other while the pleasure rolls through us. A school of silver fish passes overhead, completely indifferent to what just happened on the bench beneath them.

Joel lifts his head. His eyes are soft in a way I've never seen. He brushes damp hair off my forehead with the same hands that just wrecked me.

"You okay?" he asks quietly.