“I hope we have more than a moment.”
“Really? The virgin is making stamina jokes?”
“Shh, don’t say the V-word.” I push him.
“Why? It’s part of you. I like that you’ve saved yourself for me.” He’s teasing, but there’s truth in it.
“I kind of was.”
He cocks his head. “What do you mean?” He traces my collarbone with his hand, edging to my bra.
“Every time I met a guy, I’d compare him to Remington, and he would come up short. I had a crush on my pen pal. It didn’t feel right to be with another guy.”
“Does it make me a jerk that I’m glad?” He kisses my neck, and I shiver.
“Kind of,” I whisper. “Being my pen pal didn’t stop you from hooking up with other girls.”
“No matter who I tried to distract myself with, it never felt right to be with anyone else. You were the one I wanted.”
He roams his hand up to my breast, covering it, lightly caressing. “I’ve been dying to do this since that first morning I saw you. Actually, since that selfie you sent to me. I love your tits. I need to see them. Now.”
He lifts my dress, and I help him drag it from my body. When it’s off, I’m only in my bra and underwear and I’m tempted to cover myself, but the hunger and admiration in his expression stop me. He doesn’t see my imperfections. He loves what he sees, and through his gaze, I can reimagine my image of myself. Where I see extra flesh, he sees lush curves. It’s heady.
“Gorgeous,” he whispers.
He pulls aside the cotton of my bra, bending over me to draw first one nipple, then the other, into his mouth. It’s both too much yet not enough. I writhe under him, trying to touch every part of his chest, stomach, raking my hands over him. As he sucks at me, his hand goes lower until he skims up my thigh. I’m quivering beneath him, filled with longing. He plays with the seam of my underwear, and I whimper. He skitters a finger over that place that’s just concentrated want, tickling, teasing, making me gasp and writhe.
“Please,” I beg.
With his other hand, he finds my bra clasp and worships my bare breasts. But still, he holds back, teasing me over my underwear.
“I like it when you beg for me.” His voice is sandpaper rough.
I want him to beg for me also, so I drag my fingers over the front of his jeans, feeling his erection. He sucks in a breath as I rub up and down in a slow rhythm. When his breathing is rough, I drag his zipper down and touch him through the space I’ve made. He’s wearing boxers, but I feel his dick through the thin material and relish his gasp.
“You make me crazy for you.”
“Ditto,” I whisper.
With one smooth move, he pushes me down on the bed. He stares at me, and my gut response is to cover myself, but he takes my wrists and pushes them back against the bed, raising himself above me.
Everything but overwhelming desire falls away.
He leans down and places a kiss on my soft belly. I shudder at the sensation, anticipation and nerves warring. He lands a kiss lower, and then lower, one at a time, until he’s at my panties. He looks up, his gorgeous face full of heat, a wicked smile playing at his lips.
He takes a finger and dips inside to the curls beneath. I realize that, just as before, I have no girl prep going on down there. I’m sure most of the girls he’s been with have been completely smooth or maybe with designer pussies. I read an article once about all the styles you can create.
“I’m an all-natural girl,” I say, not sure how to put it.
“It works for me.” He’s practically panting. So I choose to believe him.
He drags my underwear off and gets up close and personal with me.
I kinda want to die. Excitement and shyness mix together.
“Relax,” he croons. “Just feel.”
We’ve done this before, but it feels more intimate now. Maybe it’s because the room is brighter with the twinkle lights so we can see more of each other, or maybe because we’ve told each other how we feel.
Then he licks me, and any self-consciousness flies out of my head. One long, smooth lick at my center, and my hips shoot up. It’s wet and decadent and, God, so good.
He licks me slow and languorous, as if he wants to savor each drop. He teases me, tortures me. I lose any sense of myself, any shame or fear or insecurity until I finally explode. He rides my orgasm, raining soft licks and kisses down on me until the aftershocks fade and I’m a boneless, satisfied mess.
I sigh when I can draw breath, feeling shy again. “That’s… Yeah. Wow,” I say. He fried my brain.