“What?”
Our eyes met.
I did not respond, raising my eyebrows. My hand slid lower from his chest down to his abdomen.
“Are you talking...” He choked on his breath when my fingers wrapped around his rock solid length.
“I’m talking about your tattoo, of course.” I continued exploring him, running my fingers up and down.
“Frid . . . Stop . . . Stop . . . Fuck.” He removed my hand and stilled, pressing his head against my collar bone.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, knowing exactly how close he was.
A sense of power overcame me, and something in me shifted. I was not intimidated by being close to him. It was as if I had always been this version of myself. Completely comfortable in being me without needing to act a part, to be convenient, be like the other girls.
Victor lifted me and set me up on the edge of the pool, standing between my open legs. I blinked, not ready for what was to come. I had used up all my courage when I touched his manhood. I was in unfamiliar territory, and now he was the one in control.
“And you were saying?” Victor chuckled as if knowing exactly what I was thinking.
Somewhere in the back of my mind was the uncomfortable thought that I was probably nothing like the women he dated. Not that skinny, not nearly as feminine. I had muscle and I had fat on me. My hips were wide and round. My chest was broad, but my boobs were not that impressive. That was probably why he hesitated. Without clothes, he probably saw me in the most unflattering way.
But I could not help noticing that his hands were shaking when he pulled my underwear off.
Victor’s eyes closed, he pressed his lips to my knee.
“It’s not enough,” he whispered.
“What?” I could hardly speak.
“I want more than to just kiss you. I want to feel you. Now.” He lifted his eyes to me.
There was so much sincerity, so much bare, unmasked emotion behind his words.
“Yes.”
He was beside me the very next moment. His lips found mine one more time. My back pressed softly against the floor. His body lowered on top of mine. We looked at each other as we both realized that there would be no going back after this and despite it all, it was worth the risk.
I raised my hand and my fingers brushed the back of his neck.
“Just... don’t hurt me,” I whispered and he shuddered.
His light gray eyes studied my face as if he finally understood something about me. As if he could finally see the real me.
“Never,” he breathed into my mouth and I pulled him in for a kiss.
His lips were tender, feathery soft, but the kiss grew more passionate, more desperate and soon it was not enough. I wrapped my legs around his hips, pulling him close.
“Frid?”
“Yes.”
“Slow . . . down.”
I arched my back, not willing to wait a moment longer. He carefully lowered his body over mine, slowly filling me, stretching me. The heat, the pleasure, sent shock waves throughevery inch of my skin. I cried out, not caring about propriety, unapologetic for the way I felt, wild and longing for more.
Victor stilled above me. His light hair dropped to his eyebrow, his arms were shaking. Streaks of golden light colored his face. His eyes burned into mine, desperate, hungry. His hips started moving agonizingly, torturously slow. I bit my lip to hold my moans. The sweetest ache melted my bones, building up just like countless waves pushing me closer and crashing over me, all at the same time.
When he slowly pulled away, I exhaled, watching the flashes of light that bounced off the surface of the pool. It was magical, beautiful, but I could not help being a little disappointed. I could not look at him, I did not want him to see that I was uncommonly greedy, not what a woman should be like. I wanted to enjoy sex just like a man. In every relationship I had, I was always dissatisfied.
