Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“More,” I whisper into his lips, my hips shifting into his touch. He pulls out before slowly filling me again, and this time, the sting of pain is laced with pleasure.
“I’ve thought a lot about what it would be like to finally feel you from the inside,” he says, pumping into me. “Nothing could have prepared me for the real thing. Fucking nothing.”
His words wrap around me like a warm blanket while simultaneously igniting a fire in me. I lock my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, circling my hips. Never breaking our connection, Jess sits back on his heels, one hand holding my thigh in place while the other continues its ministrations on my clit. His eyes burn with lust, fixated on where we meet, watching himself slide in and out.
“So goddamn tight,” he groans. My hips lift from the mattress in an effort to get closer. Jesse’s eyebrows tug together, forming a hard crease between them, his cheeks ruddy with exertion.
“I think I’m close,” I say, bewildered at the fact. I always heard the first time was miserable.
“I can feel you squeezing me,” Jess rasps, both hands circling the fold in my hips, controlling my movements. His pelvis grinds into me with each thrust, driving me closer to the edge. My vision grows hazy around the edges, every nerve ending buzzing, and when Jesse leans down to scrape his teeth across my nipple, I explode. My back bows off the bed as a strangled cry slips free. Jess fucks me through my orgasm, his movements becoming jerkier and frantic. With one last snap of his hips, he groans before collapsing on top of me.
We’re both silent as the reality of what we just did washes over us. I feel raw and exposed and unexpectedly emotional. Jess peels himself from me, his sweat-slicked skin sticking to mine, before pulling out. There’s the faintest streak of blood on the condom, and another on my inner thigh, but it’s far from the massacre I feared.
Jesse’s eyes zero in on the blood, his nostrils flaring, before he lowers himself until his face is between my thighs once more. I try to shut my legs, embarrassed, but he pries them open before placing open-mouthed kisses along my inner thighs, apparently unbothered with the blood. When his tongue meets my overly sensitive center, I flinch away, still too raw. But he holds me in place, giving a few soft strokes with the flat of his tongue, as if soothing away the sting.
Wordlessly, he stands, peeling the condom from his still-hard length, then strolls over to the bathroom to toss it into the trash can. His hair is damp with sweat and his muscles seem more pronounced, and I can’t help but stare as he makes his way back to the bed, absently scratching his stomach.
I cannot believe I just lost my virginity. To that.
He bends over, grabbing a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his discarded jeans. He strides toward the window, and I hear the flick of his lighter a second before he’s sliding the window open. Bracing one hand on the frame, he leans in to rest his forehead on the back of his hand. He takes a drag, the smoke curling through the air in front of him.
I wrap a throw blanket around my shoulders, then I pad toward him, coming to a stop a few inches from his back.
“Did I hurt you?” he finally asks, his gruff voice breaking the silence. The streetlights illuminate his profile as he turns his head to the side, waiting for my reply.
“A little,” I answer honestly.
“Do you regret it?” he asks, still not meeting my eyes.
“No.”
He turns his head to look out the window once more, and a sinking feeling hits my gut.
“But you do,” I accuse, frowning. I see him tense, but he doesn’t deny it. My veins turn to ice as I take a step backwards, but he spins around, his hand clamping down on my wrist, holding me in place. I glance up at him, waiting for him to speak. He swallows hard, watching me intently, but he says nothing.
“Let me go.”
He releases my wrist, and I turn for the bathroom, needing to put some distance between us. I lock both doors, then let the blanket fall to the floor, inspecting my reflection that appears as ragged as I feel. My hair is a tangled mess, my skin splotchy, my lips swollen. Morbid curiosity has my hand reaching down to feel between my legs. I feel raw. Exposed. Both physically and emotionally.
Turning for the shower, I flip the faucet. As I wait for the water to warm up, I tell myself that I’m fine. It’s just sex. It had to be someone. I’m glad it’s out of the way. It’s fine. I’m fine.