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I arch my hips and rock against his erection, slicking it up, our limbs slipping with the sweat. Every stroke of his shaft over my sex makes me juicier, wetter, until I’m meeting his thrusts with pushes of my own. Abel curses in my mouth, rolling our foreheads together, and I swallow down his fuck.
“I love you,” I breathe, hoping that somehow my words get dissolved in his bloodstream and he never has to think about being alone or powerless or afraid.
His jaw clenches as the blackness in his eyes glimmers with emotion. He puts his hand on either side of me, raising himself. Sweat makes every corner of his body shine and stand out starkly. I open my legs — as much as I can, given the tight space of the couch — as he kneels between them and lines up his pulsing dick with my pussy.
We both watch where he’s going to be joined with me. I still can’t believe he likes me unshaved and rough. And I can’t believe how much of a turn-on that is.
In a completely filthy move, Abel licks his palm and lubes up his shaft, mixing my juices with his saliva. But I don’t think he’s going to need any lube with the rate my core is going, oozing out sticky cream. I’m staining this couch with my cum.
The tendons of his wrist strain as he nudges my opening with the head of his dick and I forget to breathe, tensing. His gaze collides with mine as he tries to push in again. And again, I tighten up.
Abel growls, as if angry at me. Angry at how small I am. How after years of waiting, I won’t let him in. Irrationally, I think, what if we don’t fit? What if all this longing and angst ends up being for nothing? We’re incompatible in the most natural of ways. How cruel would that be? How cruel would God be if He took away this one thing from us? Maybe He cursed us with overflowing lust only to never have it fulfilled.
But all depressing thoughts vanish when I feel Abel’s thumb playing with my clit. He circles it, once, twice, three times, until I lose count and I’m twisting my hips because it feels so good. I feel my channel turn all creamy and heated, and then comes a sharp pressure, alerting me that Abel has managed to breach it.
I moan. In relief. In pain. Actually, pain has never felt so good. Pain has never made me feel so alive.
My noises are drowned out by Abel’s groan though. It’s raw and horny, similar to his voice. “Ah, it feels so…” He clenches his eyes shut before opening them; they look drunk. “So fucking good.”
The mouth of my hole feels stretched like a rubber band. I shift a little, only a little but Abel grits his teeth, like he can feel that tiny movement echoing right down to his soul. His chest moves with his big breath, almost vibrating. There’s a hum in his throat. God, he loves this. He loves being inside me so much. That in itself makes it worth all the pain, all the tight pressure.
He has to gather himself before he can speak again. “You okay?”
I nod even though I want to shake my head and tell him that it hurts. It really, really hurts. But I like it. The hurt is amazing. It’s glorious.
“You can’t lie for shit, Pixie. But I’m gonna let your lie slide. ‘Cause I need your pussy so bad I’m willing to do anything for it.” His voice breaks at the end and his biceps are shaking.
He lowers himself on me, changing the angle and I jerk, wincing. It’s like something is expanding inside me, swelling out with every breath and I don’t know how to get it to stop. And I don’t want it to stop. It’s a strange war. I love the pain even if it hurts.
Abel leans all the way down, sort of sinking into me. Like he’s finally home. Finally relieved to be inside me, even though it’s not all the way yet. Then he starts to rock, slowly, gently.
I wince at the pressure but his pelvis is dragging over my clit so it’s bearable, a bit pleasure-inducing too. He captures my mouth in a kiss, adding to that tiny pleasure, and I sigh. He’s making it all better with his mouth, what his cock is destroying down below.
“I can feel it,” he whispers.
“Feel what?” I grip his sweaty bicep, my eyes wide.
“Your cherry. My dick is knocking at it,” he says with wonder, like my hymen is the best thing God’s ever made.
I’m both amused and terrified. Okay, more terrified, so all I can say is a breathy oh.
He’s still rocking into me, breathing misty words. “It’s gonna hurt.”
