Sam Smith played in the background, the echo of his lyrics whispering softly through the halls of her apartment. He liked the song but it was wrong for this sort of occasion.
With her hands braced against the wall on either side of the floor-length mirror–her delicately manicured nails scraping against the exposed brick–he thrust into her, gently, reveling in the soft touch of her skin, the roundness of her plump ass as he held it in his hands, pumping in and out.
She was so tight around him.
She made little mewling sounds like a hungry kitten as he wrapped a hand around her slender throat, his finger caressing her collar bone, her jaw. He felt the thrum of her heartbeat; he felt the motion of her words as she whispered to him.
She wanted more.
His heart skipped a beat, her glorious ass pressed against his hips, her slender back cradled against his chest. His heart beat so wildly he wondered if she could feel it too.
Their faces reflected in the glass, the sight of her breasts bouncing up and down with each thrust from behind, her long, slender legs trembling from exhaustion or anticipation; he wondered if she would collapse before they could finish.
After going at it so long–first in the kitchen, then in the bathroom, now in the bedroom–it was a marvel that either of them could stand. They’d have to move to the bed next or his body might give out entirely.
She raised her arms above her head, curling them around his neck. Her fingers tangled in his hair.
Wrapping his hand around her thigh, he lifted her leg to steady her but more for him to see of her in the reflection of the mirror. Her chest rising and falling with every ragged breath. Her beautiful lips hanging open as she gasped for air with each hitch. Her bright eyes. Her face awash with blissful pleasure. Their bodies joined together like one entity. One being. One body.
He knew the moment she came close to cresting. Her body went rigid, she held her breath, those beautiful, sparkling eyes squeezing shut. She bit her lower lip, a habitual act of hers whenever they were in bed together and, from the tick in her jaw, he knew she was grinding her teeth.
He wanted it to last.
Pulling out abruptly, ignoring the cold sense of loss that steeled into him the moment he came free of her, he turned her around.
Never had the look of disappointment been so sexy. He kissed her pouting lips, pressing her against the cold, reflective glass.
“Not yet,” he whispered to her.
If this was to be the last time, he was going to love her slowly.