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of her. This was going wrong. She wanted it to be over so Jesse would leave. She stroked his fully erect cock, concentrating, listening to the sound of his breathing get faster. She sheathed him and positioned herself, ready.
    But instead of pushing inside her, Jesse shifted on the couch so he could be on his back. She’d bought this sofa, love at first sight, because of how wide it was. Plenty of room for him to stretch out, no cushions in the way. He tugged her along with him, urging her to straddle his thighs the way she had before. His cock jutted between them. His hands pressed her hips for a second, his thighs bunching beneath them. When she touched him, his cock jumped. Jesse moaned softly.
    He put his arms over his head, his fingers linked.
    Everything inside her blazed. Her breathe soughed out of her, hitching in her throat as she did her best but failed to hold back a moan of her own. The muscles in her belly tightened. Her pussy clenched.
    Colleen let her fingers drift over his belly, feeling his muscles leap and twitch. She looked at his face, his closed eyes. His tightened lips. Jesse’s hips pushed upward.
    Slowly, slowly, Colleen seated herself on his cock. Her thighs gripped his hips. She waited for him to move, to grab her or to start thrusting. To take control.
    But Jesse didn’t. He acquiesced to her every move with his own soft sigh and the shudder of his body. He throbbed inside her.
    She didn’t move.
    Not for some long minutes as she concentrated on the feeling of him filling her. The beat and pulse of him inside her. He strained, shivering, but didn’t move more than with the subtle shift of his in-and-out breath.
    His hands stayed locked over his head. And that, oh, that giving up, that giving in... Her hips rolled, finally, unable to stay still. She wanted—no, needed—to move on him. To feel his thickness sliding in and out of her.
    “You feel so good,” he whispered.
    More heat flooded her, rising up her throat to paint her face. She rocked on him, her clit rubbing his belly every time she moved. He would grab her now, she thought. Change up the rhythm to suit himself. And then it would be a rush to see if she could finish getting off before he did. But Jesse didn’t do that. His eyes opened, locking with hers. He thrust, but in time with her motions. His fingers unlinked.
    “No,” she said suddenly. Harder than she meant to. “Keep them like that.”
    She thought he’d protest, or sneer, or, worst of all, laugh, but instead his gaze went dreamy and heavy-lidded. His hands locked tight to each other again. And best of all, he groaned, his throat working with that sound of pleasure as he arched and moved beneath her.
    “How good do I feel?” Her voice didn’t sound like her own.
    “So good.”
    She rode him harder, desire rising. Her fingers dug into his lean sides, and Jesse gasped. “Tell me how good.”
    “So fucking good.” His voice broke, rough and rasping. “Fuck, Colleen. You feel like heaven.”
    She slipped a hand between them to stroke her clit while she fucked him. Her pleasure spiraled higher and higher, everything coiling and twisting and tangling as she rocked on his erection. She was lost in the ecstasy, urged on by the look in his eyes and the grim press of his lips. The sweat on his forehead. He groaned again, and she almost came from the sound of his pleasure.
    They moved together, faster, in perfect time. Her climax teased her, just out of reach. She wasn’t going to make it, and anxiety pierced her again, making her want to move more desperately—if only to get him off so she could pretend she had.
    And then she looked again at his linked fingers. The bulge of his muscles in his arms and the tendons of his wrists showed his struggle to keep his hands together. And why? Because she’d told him to.
    Then she was coming, no holding it back, and the rush and push of her orgasm stole her breath. She wept with it, though she didn’t want to. She dug her nails