Page 90 of Proof By Contradiction
‘Full.’ His voice is wrecked.
He reaches for me immediately, finds my cock by feel, wraps his hand around me with a grip that answers the question better than any word.
I roll the condom on him with fingers that are less steady than I’d like. Slick him. Slick myself.
Laurence watches me the whole time.
‘Come here,’ he says softly.
I climb into his lap.
The first touch of him against me knocks the air out of my lungs. Hard and hot and slick where I guide him between my legs. Laurence’s hands settle on my hips immediately, broad and steady, thumbs pressing once into the bone there like he’s grounding himself before impact.
I lower myself slowly.
Heat.
Stretch.
The careful burn of taking him inch by inch while Laurence exhales through his teeth beneath me.
‘Fuck,’ I whisper.
His head tips back against the headboard.
The plug shifts inside him as I sink fully down, and the reaction tears visibly across his face. His mouth opens on a sound that isn’t language.
That more than anything undoes me.
Knowing it’s there. Knowing every movement of my body changes the sensation inside his.
‘Ewan—’
Broken already.
I brace one hand against his shoulder and move experimentally once, slow.
Laurence jerks underneath me hard enough to rock the bed.
There.
I do it again.
The vibrator must be catching against something inside him every time I move because each shift pulls a different reaction out of him. A sharp inhale. A curse bitten off halfway through. Fingers tightening harder against my hips.
He’s sensitive in ways I’ve never encountered.
And suddenly I want to wreck him with it.
I start riding him properly.
Slow at first. Lifting myself almost completely off him before sinking back down in measured strokes, watching every expression break across his face as the plug shifts inside him with each movement.
The effect is immediate.
His stomach jumps. His thighs tense hard beneath mine. His composure frays visibly every time I take him deep again.
‘Christ,’ he says hoarsely.
