Page 33 of Phoenix's Rising
"Not stopping," he grunts, his rhythm never faltering. "Not until you come again. Not until I've made you feel so good you forget your own fucking name."
His words, the promise in them, the intensity of his gaze, it's all too much and not enough at the same time.
"Keep going," I beg. "Please keep going."
And he does. He doesn't tire, doesn't slow, doesn't show any sign of stopping. He just keeps fucking me with a stamina that should be impossible.
Cole would have finished by now. Would have gotten his, rolled off me, and gone to sleep without a second thought aboutwhether I'd enjoyed it. But Phoenix isn't tired. Isn't even close. He's completely focused on me, on my pleasure, on making sure this is everything I need it to be.
I'm loving it: loving the way he feels inside me, the way his muscles flex with each thrust, the way he looks at me like I'm the only thing that matters in the world.
But I don't want him to do everything. Don't want to just lie here and take it, passive and powerless like I always was with Cole.
I want control. Want to show Phoenix that I can give as good as I get.
"Slow down," I say, my hands pushing gently against his chest.
He stops immediately, concern flashing across his face. "You okay? Did I hurt you?"
"No." I smile up at him. "I just… I want to ride you. Can I?"
"Fuck yes, you can."
He pulls out, and I feel the loss immediately. But then he's rolling us, flipping our positions with an ease that speaks to his strength. Now I'm straddling him, my hands braced on his toned, tattooed chest. His cock is still hard beneath me, throbbing and wet with my juices.
I grind my pussy against it, teasing us both, and Phoenix groans.
"Don't torture me, sweetheart."
I smile, feeling powerful in a way I've never felt during sex. I'm in control. I get to set the pace, decide how fast or slow, how deep or shallow. I reach down, gripping his cock and positioning it at my entrance. Then I slowly slide down onto him.
I can feel every inch of him as I take him inside, and I tilt my head back, savoring the sensation.
Absolute control. This is what it feels like.
Phoenix's hands come up to grip my hips, but he doesn't try to move me or control my rhythm. He's just holding on, letting me take my time.
Cole used to demand during sex. Would grab my hips and force me to bounce faster, harder, exactly how he wanted regardless of what felt good to me. Would complain if I slowed down or stopped, would sometimes just flip me over and finish himself if I wasn't performing to his standards.
But Phoenix isn't demanding anything. He's letting me have this, letting me explore what feels good at my own pace.
"That's it," he murmurs, his voice rough. "Take what you need. Use me however you want."
The permission in his words makes me want to prove to him how glad I am that I came here. I start to move, rolling my hips in slow circles, grinding down on him.
It feels incredible. Different from when he was on top, but equally good. I can control the angle, can find the exact spot that makes pleasure spike through me.
I pick up the pace gradually, lifting and dropping, finding a rhythm that works. Phoenix's hands tighten on my hips, and I can see the strain on his face. He's struggling to let me control this, fighting the urge to take over.
"You feel so fucking good," he grits out. "So tight and wet."
I lean forward, changing the angle again, and nearly cry out from how good it feels. My breasts press against his chest, my hands braced on either side of his head.
"Touch me," I whisper. "Please, Phoenix. Touch me."
His hands immediately leave my hips, one sliding up to cup my breast while the other tangles in my short hair. He pulls medown into a messy and desperate kiss, our tongues tangling as I continue to ride him.
When he breaks the kiss, he trails his mouth down my jaw to my neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks.
