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According to the internet, white roses can also mean “innocence and purity.” But I don’t give a shit about that. Yes, I’m Alessandra’s first—and, hopefully, her last. And, yes, being her first was insanely special. But that’s not why I love her. I love this girl because she’s Alessandra. Because she’s perfect. Because she’s mine and I’m hers, no matter who or what came before, or didn’t, for either of us.
When Alessandra turns to me, her eyes are wide and as blue as the ocean. She puts a palm on her heart. “Did you look up the meaning of white roses?”
I nod. “The same way I’ve looked up the meanings of every flower I’ve ever sent you.”
“Aw, Matthew. I thought a florist had to be making those selections for you.”
“How dare you.” Smiling, I take her hands. “I know exactly what these white roses mean. Forever. That’s why I chose them. Because ‘forever’ is how long I’m going to love you. I love you like the sky is blue, baby. Forever and ever.”
“I love you forever, too,” she chokes out. “I’ll be smitten, always.”
Arousal floods me. And by the look on Ally’s face, it’s clear she’s having the same reaction. We kiss each other passionately, and begin making out on my bed. And, soon, glory be, we’re peeling off our clothes.
“Holy Hot Girlfriend,” I say when I behold her undies and bra. For the first time, ever, Alessandra is wearing classically “sexy” pieces—a blue G-string and lacy bra. And, damn, she looks fine as fuck.
Alessandra strikes a classic ‘pin-up girl’ pose on the bed. “You like my present, loverrr?”
“‘Like’ isn’t a strong enough word to convey my feelings on this particular topic.”
She giggles. “Well, then, you’re really going to like my next present.” She straddles me on the bed and grinds herself into my hard-on. “Guess what, Matthew? I started taking the pill right before New York.” She winks. “Condoms no longer needed, baby.”
My chest heaves with excitement. “I’ve never had sex without a condom.”
She grinds herself against my bulge. “Well, here’s to yet another first.”
With an excited growl, I remove her sexy bra with only a small amount of trouble and lay her down on the bed. After kissing her torso and the outside of her gorgeous undies, I remove them with my teeth, making her shriek. When she’s fully naked, I spread her out and lick and lap at the sweet flesh between her legs, including that magical cherry on top—until, in no time at all, Alessandra is gripping the sheet underneath her and coming palpably against my mouth and fingers.
As she comes down from her orgasm, I crawl on top of her, my balls tightening with anticipation, and sink myself inside her . . . and literally convulse at the pleasure streaking through me as my body slides inside hers.
“You feel amazing,” I gasp out. But it’s an understatement. I haven’t even started thrusting yet, and I’m already feeling like I’m glimpsing God. She’s perfect. A tight, warm, wet glove designed precisely for my body.
“It feels amazing for me, too,” she says. “I love there being nothing between us.”
We begin making love. And it’s the best sex of my life. But, after a bit, I’m desperate to look at her as I fuck her. Dying to make her come while I’m inside her.
“Get on top, baby,” I whisper. “I want to touch you where it counts and look at you as I fuck you.”
We rearrange ourselves, with her riding me, and I proceed to grip her slender hips with one hand, while massaging her clit with the other.
Well, damn. I’m a genius. In no time at all, Alessandra is going completely crazy on me. She throws her head back, showing me the curve of her slender neck, while I move my hand from her hip to her breast, losing my mind along with her.
As she moans, she slides her fingertip into my mouth, making me groan in reply.
The sound of waves crashing beyond my window is our soundtrack. The scent of roses our mutual perfume. And I’m quite certain, in this moment, I’ve literally never been happier in my life.
Somehow, through sheer force of will, I last long enough to make it through Alessandra’s eventual orgasm. But the moment she comes, I lose it, too.
When our bodies have quieted down, we tumble onto the mattress together, onto our backs, side by side, and exhale with satisfaction.
“That felt so good,” I say. “I never want to use a condom again.”
“You’ll never have to,” she replies. And her meaning is clear. She wants to be the last woman I sleep with, ever.
“Absolutely,” I reply, taking her hand.
We stare at the ceiling for a moment, both of us lost in our thoughts. But, after a bit, I lie on my side and prop my cheek onto my palm.
