Chapter 289: Mia X Sean Hotel Sex R18

She was wet already. The evidence of it on her thighs, the slick shine of her in the low hotel light. He looked at her and she looked back at him and something in her expression flickered.

"I didn’t know I would be that," she said and stopped.

"Wet," he said.

"Yes," she said. "Is that."

"Normal," he said. "It means your body wants this."

Her jaw tightened and then released. "My body is apparently ahead of my brain."

"Good," he said. "Your brain overthinks things."

She almost laughed and then he put his mouth on her and she stopped almost-laughing entirely.

The sound she made was small. Surprised. Not performed, not controlled, a sound that came from somewhere she hadn’t learned to manage yet. Her thighs tensed under his hands and then slowly, muscle by muscle, she began to relax into the mattress.

He worked her with his tongue and she made another sound, lower this time, and one of her hands found the back of his head but didn’t push, just rested there with her fingers barely touching his hair.

"That’s," she said and stopped.

He looked up at her.

"Don’t stop," she said. "That’s what I meant. Don’t stop."

He didn’t.

He brought one hand up and slid a finger inside her and she gasped and her hips shifted involuntarily toward him and the hand on his head tightened.

"Okay," she said to the ceiling. "Okay that’s different."

He moved slowly, letting her adjust to the sensation, watching her face for any sign of discomfort.

Her eyes were closed now. Her mouth slightly open. Her chest rising and falling with a rhythm that had nothing controlled in it at all.

"Another," he said.

She nodded without opening her eyes.

He added a second finger and she made a sound that was almost his name and her back arched slightly and he watched her body respond to him in ways her mind hadn’t decided to allow yet.

"I’m going to," she said and stopped again.

He slowed.

"No," she said. "Keep going. I’m. I think I’m."

He kept going.

She came with a sound that was quieter than he expected, a kind of sharp exhale that turned into a moan she tried to swallow and couldn’t, and her thighs clamped around his hand and her fingers gripped his hair and the city outside the window continued its Friday things entirely without her.

When she opened her eyes she looked at him with an expression that was half surprise and half something else, something evaluating that had been temporarily shut down and was rebooting.

"That was," she said.

"I know," he said.

She exhaled. "I was going to say faster than I expected."

"Is that good," he said.

"It’s slightly embarrassing," she said.

"It shouldn’t be," he said.

She looked at him for a long moment. Then she reached for his shirt. "You’re wearing too much clothing."

He helped her undo the buttons and she watched her own hands do it with the same attention she’d given everything else tonight, cataloging the act of undressing someone she’d been thinking about for months.

He stood to remove his pants and she watched him with the evaluating expression back in place but softer now, the post-orgasm version that was less assessment and more appreciation.

When he was undressed she looked at him fully and her cheeks flushed darker.

"That’s," she said. "I have questions."

"Ask later," he said.

"Practical questions," she said. "About."

"Later," he said and kissed her again and she made a sound against his mouth that was half laugh and half something hungrier and he guided her backward onto the bed.

He positioned himself above her and she looked up at him with the sharp dark eyes and her hair spread across the pillow and her bare chest rising and falling with quick breaths.

"Tell me if it hurts," he said.

"I will."

"I mean it."

"I know," she said. "I’ll tell you."

He pressed against her entrance and she inhaled sharply and her hands found his shoulders and her nails pressed into his skin.

"Slow," she said.

"Slow," he agreed.

He pushed in just barely and she made a sound that was pain and surprise and something else underneath both of them, a kind of recognition that whatever she’d expected was different from this, more real, more physical.

"Okay," she said through her teeth. "That’s. That’s a lot."

"Do you want to stop."

"No," she said immediately. "Just. Give me a second."

He waited.

Her body was tight around him, the grip of her unfamiliar with intrusion, and she breathed deliberately with the focus someone brought to a task they were determined to do correctly.

"Okay," she said. "More."

He pushed deeper and she gasped and her nails dug into his shoulders and her eyes were wide and fixed on his face.

"It burns," she said quietly.

"I know."

"Does it always burn."

"Just the first time," he said.

She processed that. "Good," she said. "I’m not doing this part again."

He almost smiled and then he was fully inside her and she was looking at him with an expression he hadn’t seen on her face before, something raw and unprocessed and entirely unguarded.

"You’re inside me," she said.

"Yes."

"That’s." She paused. "That’s a very strange sentence to say out loud."

"Is it bad," he said.

She looked at him. "No," she said. "It’s not bad. It’s just." She shifted slightly and the movement made her inhale. "Full. Is the word. Very full."

He stayed still and let her adjust and she looked up at him with the evaluating eyes and something else underneath them, something soft and surprised.

"You can move," she said. "Slowly."

He moved.

The rhythm was careful at first, the pace of two people learning each other’s bodies in real time. She was tight and wet and every stroke drew a sound from her that she didn’t seem to know she was making, small gasps and half-words that had nothing prepared in them.

"Okay," she said after a moment. "Okay that’s. That’s different from before."

"Good different."