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As I lie a sweaty, satisfied mess, enjoying the aftermath of his handiwork, he stands to put on a condom. Everything he does fascinates me. This included. Even this simple act feels monumental. To be remembered. His body is the opposite of mine in every way. Hard where I’m soft. Bronze where I’m white. I could study him for decades and still find more to learn.
Crawling back on the bed, he makes room for himself between my legs. Pressed between us, his erection is more than ready to be called into action. It makes the empty ache grow again. That’s when he gets up on his elbows, stares down with warmth and affection, and says, “You sure you want to do this? I can wait. We can wait.”
“I’m sure.”
“This isn’t gonna feel as good for you as it will for me, but I’ll do my best…” He looks momentarily lost, unsteady. “Dora…”
“Yeah?”
“I’ve never done this either…with a virgin I mean, so tell me what feels good and what doesn’t.”
“You’re doing great.” Reaching up I caress his cheeks, run my thumb along his bottom lip. He plants a kiss there.
“I want to make it good for you….I want…I want you so much…”
Stroking, his face. “I w-want y-you too. I’m glad I waited for you.”
“You mean that?” he whispers.
“With all my heart.” The truth comes out with no stutter, no thought, no hesitation.
He rocks his hips back and forth and the sweet friction stokes my need, the urge building again. My knees naturally lift, wrap around his waist, our bodies moving in synch. They were made for this after all. He gives I take. I give he takes. And as my desire climbs, he slips inside a little more each time going deeper and deeper until he hits resistance. One more thrust of his hips and he pushes all the way in. And I’m joined as one with the boy I love.
I yelp because holy cow it stings, the stretch burning. Stretched and filled, the feeling is a strange one. Until Dallas slowly and carefully starts moving again, never taking his gaze off of me, watching for every reaction of pain or pleasure.
The pain is soon replaced by a desperate insatiable need to come again. Dallas’s face tells me he’s close and before long, he shouts in pleasure. And then I follow. I’d follow him anywhere.
Chapter Twenty
Dora
I. Am. In. Love.
A ray of light sneaks into the room and hits me right in the face. You know what else hits me? The soreness between my legs. My eyes open to find Dallas less than a foot away on the same pillow. Even asleep, he’s too handsome for his own good. It’s not mentally healthy for someone to be this handsome.
A thick strand of wavy blond hair covers his eyes. It keeps fluttering with every deep exhale he takes. I’m tempted to brush it away but I don’t want to wake him. He did all the heavy lifting last night and probably needs the rest. Poor baby.
“What am I, the Housewives of Beverly Hills?” he grunts. “Stop watching me.”
An irrepressible grin takes over my face. The Housewives have nothing on him.
“Sorry…d-didn’t mean to wake you. How long have you been awake?”
“Since you started drooling all over me.”
“You’d probably like it,” I return, laughing. I push the hair away from his face, pet him, and he snuggles against my touch. Just a boy in need of attention. Then he cracks one electric blue eye open and the grin that materializes on his face matches mine.
“Admit it, babe, I’m the best looking dude you’ve ever laid eyes on.”
I know he hides his feelings beneath his jokes, but I wouldn’t be kidding if I said he is by far the most beautiful human I’ve ever seen. Except he’s so much more than a pretty face.
He’s smart, and kind, and loyal to a fault. He gives everything if he cares about you––even if it costs him everything.
His expression softens. “How do you feel?”
“Like I’m not a v-virgin anymore.” My body says not great while the rest of me has never felt better.
“Is that a good thing?”
“A little s-sore, but it was w-well-worth it. I’ll submit my report by the end of the day.”
He gets up on an elbow and leans over me, plants a sweet dry kiss on my lips. “When can I expect a promotion for my stellar performance?”
He’s smirking, as he always does when he’s teasing me. I’m not entirely sure he’s joking, however. The flicker of doubt that crosses his face says otherwise. So I do the only thing I can. The safe thing––I joke back.
“W-what sort of a p-promotion are you looking for?”
This earns me an evaluating glance. “Isn’t it obvious?”
Not really. Thanks to all the time we spend together I’m a little more knowledgeable about men, but only marginally. “Umm, no.”
