“I’m right here” his voice is comforting as he continues to hold your hands in his until you both climax, ecstasy filling the room.
Holding hands wasn’t something you usually did while he was digging you out, leaving you breathless with each agonisingly great stroke. But today was different. It was more passionate and slow. It had you clenching around him every-time he hit your spot.
He held your hands in his while his cock stretched you out, kissing the top of your hand every-time you whimpered or moaned out for him. His thumb caressing your soft skin, soothing you. “It’s okay baby, you got it” he’d coo as he watches you become a mess under him.
The both of you lightly glistened with sweat, your skin littered with soft kisses as he trails them down your forearm up to your hand. His grunts become more like whimpers as he feels your warm wet walls wrap around him, gripping him each time he retracts. He swears you’re trying to kill him, but you could say the same thing. You can’t even use your hands to stop his intense movements.
Your hands intertwined the whole time, unable to let go from one another. It’s like you’re both infused with each other, restricted by the lust and want. Captured by the need and desperation.
