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"I know. Me too."

But I'm not quite there yet. I'm close, so close, but something's missing. He must sense it because he slides one hand between us.

"Touch yourself," he says. "I want to watch you."

I slide my hand down to where we're joined and start touching myself while he continues to move beneath me.

The combination is overwhelming. Within seconds I'm coming again, clenching around him, saying his name.

"Fuck, Lyla, that's—" His rhythm falters, but then he grabs my hips and holds me still. "Wait. Not yet. I want to try something else."

I climb off him on shaky legs, confused but trusting. "What?"

"Turn around. Hands and knees."

I do as he asks, positioning myself on my hands and knees. I feel exposed, vulnerable, but then his hand runs down my spine in a soothing gesture.

"You look so good like this," he says, positioning himself behind me. "If you don't like it, we stop. Okay?"

"Okay."

He slides back inside, and this angle is completely different. Deeper. More intense. I drop down to my elbows with a moan.

"Good?" he asks.

"Yes! Really good."

He starts to move, slow at first, letting me adjust. Then gradually faster, his hands on my hips, pulling me back to meet each thrust.

The sound of skin against skin fills the room, along with our breathing and the sounds I can't seem to stop making.

"You feel so fucking good," he says. "So tight. So perfect."

One of his hands slides up my back, into my hair, and he uses the grip to pull me back against him harder. It's rougher than anything I've done before, more primal, and I love it.

"Harder," I manage to say.

He gives me what I want, his hips snapping forward with real force. I'm making sounds I didn't know I could make, saying things that would embarrass me if I could think straight.

"Touch yourself again," he says. "Want to feel you come around my cock."

I reach between my legs with a shaking hand and start touching myself. Between his cock hitting something inside me that makes me see spots and my own fingers, I'm coming again within a minute.

This orgasm is different, deeper.

He doesn't stop, just keeps moving, drawing it out until I'm trembling and oversensitive.

"Kieran, I can't—"

"One more. Give me one more."

"I can't, it's too much—"

But he pulls out suddenly, and I whimper at the loss. Then he's flipping me onto my back, hooking my legs over his shoulders, and sliding back inside in one smooth thrust.

This angle is even deeper, and I cry out. He's looking down at me, his eyes dark and intense, and he starts to move with purpose.

"This okay?" he asks, but he doesn't slow down.