I loved that he was into me and showed it in a lot of ways, and one of those ways was copious, and that was sexually.

So we had an off night, we’d have more.

On the other hand, guys were guys, but they probably needed that sometimes too. The “that” being your partner sharing they found you attractive by sharing they wanted to have sex with you.

Right.

I pulled it together, slid my hand to the top of the waistband of his sleep pants and trailed my nails lightly along it, tipping my head back and whispering, “I wanna go down on you. Is that okay?”

As he dipped his head to put his face in mine, he took my hand in his, pushed it under the waistband and wrapped it around his hardening cock.

And thrillingly unnecessarily, he growled, “It is absolutely okay.”

I smiled, slid up a little to touch my mouth to his then I touched it to his throat.

He used my hand to stroke his dick.

Okay.

Nice.

As I made my way down his chest, though, he pulled our hands out and adjusted himself in bed at the same time tugging down his pajamas.

He tossed them to the side, positioned on his ass with his back against the headboard, and he spread his legs.

Knees cocked.

Axl Pantera laid out for the taking.

Okay.

Um …

Niiiiiiice.

I moved, curled up, took hold and went in.

Seriously, my mouth full of his cock?

Delicious.

That purr I loved came from his chest, his legs tensed, and then he relaxed, his hand going in my hair.

And as I blew him, he played a lot with my hair, arranging it across his lap in a way that made me clench and fight squirming.

Because it was like I got to touch him without, in a certain sense, me being the one who touched him. Also, I loved that he dug my hair so much. And last but so not least, it was just plain hot to be draped around him in that way while I was sucking his dick.

Eventually, however, after a good deal of sucking, licking, rolling the tip, pumping with a twist (I’d discovered he liked that a whole lot), his hand fisted in my hair and he started pulsing up into my mouth.

Oh yes.

Taking his gentle face fucking, and getting into it, I couldn’t fight the squirm, and even though Axl was purring consistently now, he didn’t miss it.

“Shorts off, get up here,” he ordered roughly.

Without delay, I released him with a hard draw and a final stroke, sat up, pulled down my sleep shorts and panties, fell to a hip, kicked them off and climbed right on.

Axl helped, holding his cock ready for me.

I glided down, taking it.

“Yes,” I breathed.

“Fuck yes,” he corrected, his hands going up my cami at the back and around.

He palmed both my breasts.

I started riding.

He tweaked my nipples and warned thickly, “Need you to get there fast, Hattie.”

I started riding faster.

He squeezed my nipples.

I bucked.

“No, baby, finger to clit,” he corrected.

Could I do that riding him? Touch myself right in front of him?

I put my finger to my clit and trembled head to toe.

I could do that.

“Yeah,” he whispered, rolling both nipples.

Oh my God, yeah.

I bounced on him, up quick, slamming down hard.

His hands slid up, my arms were forced up, and the cami was gone.

He then grabbed both cheeks of my ass, gripping them in a touch that was over the edge of gentle, and I jolted and started to ride wild.

“That’s it, fuck me, baby,” he grunted.

Yes.

I understood it.

That hold on my ass was possessive.

That wasn’t my ass.

It was his.

I was his.

And I loved being his.

I rode harder.

“Christ,” his fingers dug in, “Fuck yeah. Ride me, Hattie.”

I rode. I soared. I came and did it hard, crying out, catching him at his neck, grinding down.

I didn’t stay down.

I lost him when he pulled me off, planted me on my knees, positioned behind me, shoved a hand in my back so I arched for him and both my hands were forced to brace against the wall, and he pistoned back in.

Oh my God.

Amazing.

“Axl,” I gasped.

He wrapped an arm across my chest, fingers at the side of the base of my neck, holding me steady as he drilled me.

Oh my …

God.

“Axl,” I whimpered, and like a shot, came again.

He squeezed my breast as I swayed my hips to meet his thrusts, reeling from my orgasm.

His hand went down over my belly and in between my legs to cup us as he fucked me.

“Best goddamn tits, juiciest fucking pussy,” he growled into my neck.

Oh God.

Could I come again?

Even if I wasn’t quite done with the last one?

I was almost there.

“Baby,” I moaned.

He pinched my clit.

I whinnied as I exploded.

He purred, then grunted, then shoved his face in my neck before his head jerked back.

He drove up and groaned, deep and rumbly.

Best sound ever.

Ever.

Honestly, I liked his orgasms even better than mine.

No joke.

He sat back on his calves, taking me with him, so I sat on his dick.

And his hands went back to my breasts.

It was not lost on me he was a tit man.

And since I was ultra-sensitive there, it also wasn’t lost on me this was (high) on the long-and-getting-longer list of how we were compatible.

“Seriously,” he murmured into my neck, giving gentle, kneading squeezes that were way better than a post-fuck cuddle. “Best tits ever, baby. Beautiful.”

“Thanks,” I wheezed.

I was pretty sure I felt him smile.

“And sweet, juicy pussy,” he continued. “So goddamn wet, you’re all over my thighs.”

I shivered.

“Even when I’m fuckin’ you, my mouth is watering with the need to eat you.”

Another shiver.

“I can’t touch you, honey,” I voiced my complaint.

“No,” he agreed, and didn’t move.

Oh my.

Yes, I was his.

I loved that.

One hand left a breast, moved over my belly, which normally, I didn’t like. It wasn’t concave or even flat, and I’d always been conscious of it.

But he palmed it with the same reverence he gave my breast and any notion of embarrassment or discomfort that might have formed vanished in an instant.