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I stare up at him. “Why does anyone hurt anyone? Nothing ever starts out that way. In the beginning, we all have good intentions.”
“I’m not your ex. I’d never hurt you.” He drags his thumb over my bottom lip and smiles. “I’m wild, but I reckon you knew that given who I am.”
I swallow hard, squeezing my thighs together to quell the ache. I can’t look away. I’m glued to him. I love that he’s wild. I’ve watched him ride a dozen times, and every single time I admired the way he held on. So much work, so much passion goes into that. My legs tremble. I want him to touch me, hold me, and do terrible awful, dirty, filthy things to me.
This is probably why people don’t drink alcohol on a first ‘date’ or at all when they’re alone with a man. It’s unbecoming. It makes you do things you wouldn’t normally do. It lowers your guard, and it allows delusions you wouldn’t normally entertain.
His lips angle in and his big, rough hand lands on my throat.
Why do I love this?
Why do I need more?
I tip up onto my toes, chasing the high of his musk. Pine and spruce. Maybe it’s cedar. I don’t know. All the woodsy smells blend together in my head.
The first brush of our lips is briefly sweet. My eyes meet his and a flicker of energy rushes through me, settling deep inside, erupting what’s left of my sensibilities.
This is the tipping point where bad decisions are made.
Our lips meet again, this time more eagerly. His hand grips me tighter and he backs me against the wall of the kitchen.
I’m not sure if it’s the clock above me or my pounding heart, but I can’t catch my breath.
His lips, his tongue, his hands, his hard cock bulging out from his jeans.
“Little Dolly,” he groans low in my ear, “I want to make a mess out of your pretty little dress tonight. Would you like that?”
My mouth drops open, and an involuntary sigh of approval slips through the gates.
His hand moves up my dress and between my thighs, settling over the top of my panties. He stays there for a moment, applying pressure with the heel of his palm before driving his thick finger against my clit. We aren’t skin to skin yet, but the way his finger pulses over the top of my thin panties is like heaven. His eyes are on mine, desperation in his throat as he says, “You’re soaking wet. You like this.”
I laugh. “You seem more experienced than you put on.”
Now he’s grinning. “That’s a good thing, right?”
I shrug. “Depends.”
He pushes my panties to the side and slides his thick fingers inside of me one by one until I don’t know how many he’s thrusting inside. All I know is it feels good and I’m pretty sure he’s lifting me off the ground with each push.
I’ve never felt so small and feminine.
Plunging inside of me, he bites my neck and shoulder, growling low in my ear, “Tell me you like that, little Dolly. Tell me you want to feel good.”
“I do. Don’t stop.” I’m panting for air, desperate to come, needy like I haven’t been… ever.
I reach out for his jeans and stroke over the front panel, feeling his hard cock bunched up behind the fabric. He’s huge. Long, thick, and hard. I knew I was into him before, but now I need him. I need this man spreading me open. I need to feel his thick cock deep inside of me. I need this or I might die.
I unbuckle his jeans and drag them to the floor with his boxers. He’s even more impressive like this, long and poking at my stomach. Maybe now is a good time to tell him I’m a virgin. I’m guessing that’s going to hurt… a lot.
“I’ve never done this before. So you know…” I blurt it out like I’m telling him I love creamer in my coffee.
He stops and stares down at me. “What do you mean?”
“Yeah… this. I’ve never like…done this.”
“Have sex?”
I nod. “It’s weird. I’m weird, I know. I…”
