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The house was quiet except for the low hum of the city outside the open window and the soft rustle of sheets as Lucy rolled onto her side, propping her head on one hand.
Tim was flat on his back, one arm tucked behind his head, the other resting on his stomach, fingers still tracing lazy circles on the strip of skin where his T-shirt had ridden up.
One year together tonight. One year of stolen nights, of learning every inch of each other, of finally letting the walls come down.
Lucy bit her lip, heart already thudding. She’d been thinking about this for weeks, turning it over in her mind every time Tim’s big, calloused hands spread over her hips or pinned her wrists.
She’d watched those thick fingers flex around a coffee mug, around the steering wheel, around her throat, and every single time the same thought had sparked: I want more.
“Tim,” she said, voice soft but steady.
He turned his head, blue eyes catching the low light.
“Yeah, baby?”
She scooted closer, sliding one leg over his thigh so she was half-draped across him. Her fingertips drew slow patterns on his chest. “I want to ask you something. And I need you to hear me all the way out before you answer.”
One brow arched, but he stayed relaxed. “I’m listening.”
Lucy took a breath. “I want you to fist me.”
The air in the room changed instantly. Tim’s whole body went still, eyes darkening as he processed the words. His hand moved from his stomach to her hip, thumb pressing in just enough to feel possessive.
“You’re serious,” he said, low and rough.
“Dead serious.” She picked up his right hand, turning it palm-up between them, tracing the thick ridge of callus along his fingers, the broad span of his palm. “These hands. I want to feel all of them inside me. I trust you. I know you’ll take care of me.”
Tim exhaled through his nose, jaw working. Lucy could see the war behind his eyes: the part that wanted to protect her from anything too intense, and the part that was already picturing it, already hard just from the idea.
“Lucy,” he started, voice gravel-rough, “that’s… a lot.
I’m not small.”
“I know exactly how big you are,” she whispered, guiding his hand between her thighs, pressing his fingers against the damp cotton of her panties.
Tim’s control cracked. He rolled them in one smooth move so she was on her back and he was braced over her, forearm by her head, the other hand still cupped between her legs.
“You’re trying to kill me,” he muttered against her mouth.
“I’m trying to get you to wreck me,” she corrected, nipping his bottom lip. “Please, Tim.”
He kissed her hard, claiming, then pulled back to search her face. “Safe word?”
“Red to stop, yellow to slow down. Same as always.”
He nodded once. “Then strip. I want you completely bare.”
Lucy scrambled to obey, peeling off her tank top and panties while Tim stood and yanked his own clothes off with impatient efficiency.
When he turned back, his cock was already heavy and flushed against his stomach, but his eyes were locked on her as she lay back against the pillows, knees falling open without being asked.
Tim crawled onto the bed, settling between her thighs. He didn’t dive in; he started slow, the way he always did when they tried something new.
Kisses along her collarbone, down the slope of her breast, teeth grazing her nipple until she arched. His mouth was hot and deliberate, mapping her like he had all night, because he did.
By the time his lips reached her hipbones, Lucy was trembling.
“Color?” he asked, breath ghosting over her clit.
“Green,” she panted. “So green.”
He hummed approval and licked one long stripe up her center, groaning at how wet she already was. Then he settled in: tongue circling her clit, two thick fingers sliding inside her easily.
He worked her open with the same precision he brought to everything, curling, scissoring, adding a third finger, then a fourth when her hips started chasing his hand.
Lucy’s head thrashed on the pillow. “Tim—”
“I know, baby. I’ve got you.”
He reached for the lube, generous, slicking his fingers until they shone, then dripping more directly onto her. The cool shock made her gasp; then all four fingers were back, pressing, stretching, twisting slow.
“Fuck, look at you opening up for me,” he rasped.
“Taking my whole goddamn hand like the greediest little girl. You were made for this, weren’t you? Made to be stuffed full of me.”
Lucy’s hands fisted in the sheets. The burn was intense, perfect. Every nerve ending lit up as he tucked his thumb in and started the slow, relentless push.
“Breathe, Lucy,” he ordered, stilling when she tensed. “Push out for me. That’s it… fuck, there we go.”
She bore down, and suddenly his entire hand slid inside to the wrist. The fullness stole her breath; her eyes rolled back as she cried out, back bowing off the bed.
Tim’s free hand splayed over her lower belly, pressing down just enough to make her feel him even deeper. “There’s my good girl,” he growled.
“Taking my whole fucking fist like a goddamn champion. Jesus, Lucy… you’re so tight around my wrist it’s obscene. I can feel your heartbeat inside you.”
He started to move, slow, careful twists of his wrist, the slightest in-and-out. Every motion dragged over places inside her that made her see stars.
“You’re ruining me, you know that?” he gritted out. “One year of having you and you still find new ways to break me.”
He curled his fingers just slightly, pressing up against her front wall, and Lucy shattered. The orgasm hit like a freight train, her whole body seizing as she came with a scream, squirting hard around his wrist, soaking his forearm and the sheets beneath them.
Tim groaned like he was the one coming, eyes black with lust. “That’s it, baby. Soak my hand. I want to feel you gush every time you come. Show me who this pretty cunt belongs to.”
She barely came down before he started moving again, shallow thrusts of his fist, his other thumb rubbing tight circles on her clit.
The wet sounds were filthy, perfect. Lucy lost count of how many times she broke apart, only knew that every climax pulled more slick from her body until the sheets were drenched and she was shaking uncontrollably.
When the overstimulation finally edged into too much, she sobbed, “Yellow—”
Tim froze instantly. “Okay, baby. I’ve got you. Just breathe.”
He eased his hand out with infinite care, murmuring praise the whole time. “Doing so good… almost there… there we go.” The slow slide out made her come one final time, a smaller but deeper pulse that left her boneless.
He grabbed the towel, wiped his hand and arm, then gently cleaned between her thighs while she floated. Finally he pulled her into his chest, wrapping her up tight, kissing her temple, her eyelids, the tip of her nose.
“You’re incredible,” he whispered against her hair. “So fucking perfect for me.”
Lucy hummed, nuzzling into his throat, still trembling with aftershocks. They stayed like that for long minutes, Tim stroking her back, telling her how proud he was, how much he loved her, how no one else would ever get this from her.
Eventually she felt the hard line of his cock against her hip, untouched the whole time. She shifted, sliding one shaky hand down his abs.
“You didn’t come,” she murmured.
“Tonight was about you,” he said firmly.
Lucy pushed at his shoulder until he rolled onto his back. She climbed over him, thighs still quivering, and sank down onto his cock in one slick slide. They both groaned.
“Lucy—”
“Shh.” She braced her hands on his chest and started to move, slow, filthy grinds. “I’m still so open from your fist. Feel that?”
Tim’s hands clamped on her hips hard enough to bruise. “Jesus fuck.”
She leaned down, lips brushing his ear. “I can still feel where your hand was. Every time I move, I feel you.” She clenched deliberately, and he cursed.
“Want you to feel me come around your cock now, Tim. Want you to fill me up while I’m still dripping from what you did to me.”
That tore the last of his restraint away. He flipped them again, hooked her legs over his shoulders and pounded into her with deep, punishing strokes. Lucy wailed, nails raking down his back.
“Come for me one more time,” he growled. “Milk my cock with that pretty, fist-ruined cunt. Feel how deep I am Right here—” he pressed on her belly again, “that’s me owning you. No one else gets this. Ever.”
She did, screaming his name as she squirted again around his cock, the clench of her body dragging him over the edge with her.
Tim buried himself to the hilt and came with a guttural roar, pulsing hot inside her for long seconds.
When he finally collapsed, he rolled them to the side so he didn’t crush her, still inside, arms locked tight around her shaking body.
Lucy kissed his jaw, sleepy and sated. “Love you.”
“Love you so fucking much,” he whispered back, voice wrecked. “You’re everything.”
They dozed tangled together, but sometime near dawn Lucy woke to Tim’s fingers tracing lazy circles around her stretched entrance again, gentle, reverent.
“Still open for me,” he murmured, awed, slipping three fingers back inside without any resistance.
Lucy moaned softly. “Always for you.”
He spent the next hour proving it, slow and tender, bringing her off twice more with just his fingers before sliding back into her for a lazy, deep morning fuck that left them both boneless and laughing into each other’s mouths.
Best one-year anniversary ever