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I haven’t minded any of it, even though Luna is scared I have. She feels pressure because all of her friends are having sex. The thing is, Luna makes me feel like no one ever has. Things with her are special. Hell, at this point I can’t imagine being with anyone but her. I never want to make love with anyone else.
Just Luna.
Always Luna.
That doesn’t mean I don’t despise her panties. I hate them and one day very soon—when we’re sleeping together every night—I will forbid her to come to bed with clothes on. If she tries, I’ll rip them off of her. I live for that day.
But now is now.
And we’ve always made sure her panties stayed on—a thin barrier that managed somehow to keep me sane and from taking her even when my body was screaming for me to do so. I want to rip them off now, but I still find myself holding back, despite her plea.
Hell, maybe after a year and a half of just doing this with Luna, I’m the one scared to push for more, afraid she’ll run away.
So, instead, my hand is busy at work inside of her panties. I slide my fingers, which are covered in her arousal, back and forth over her clit. It’s not enough for Luna, and I know that when she thrusts up against my hand, trying to grind. One of her legs wraps around one of mine and she tries to pull my body against hers—does her best to get us closer.
“Gavin, stop torturing me,” she whimpers, her hand stroking me harder.
Pre-cum runs down my shaft, over her hand, making my cock slick. She’s jacking me so tightly, her hand clenching as she gets closer to the edge. I let out a ragged breath that ends in a hiss as I feel my balls tighten.
I’m going to come. I can’t hold back.
I break away from her mouth and use my nose and teeth to nudge her bra out of the way, all the while torturing her clit with my fingers. I want to fuck her with my fingers, but I won’t even allow myself that. When I claim her virginity, I want to do it with my cock, not my hand. I have no idea if that is possible, but I’ve heard guys say it is and I don’t want to risk it. Fuck, the truth is I’m not much more experienced than Luna—mostly because from the moment I first saw her, no other girl would do.
It’s always been her.
“I’m going to come, Moonbeam,” I whisper in her ear, my voice coarse, threaded with hunger and almost unrecognizable.
“No,” she whimpers, as I pick up my speed and the intensity on the way I’m working her clit.
She’s so wet now that she has my hand drenched. Her body is thrusting against me, making movements that I doubt she understands, but even in my limited experience, I know. She needs more than I’m giving her. We’ll have to talk about it, but I need her to make the decision when she’s not on the verge of coming, when she’s not hungry and needy.
“Come for me, Luna. Give in and let me make it all better,” I croon, before dropping my head back down to her breast.
I lick around the nipple, and as her body jerks underneath me I suck the tender bud into my mouth, thrusting it against the top of my mouth and torturing it. My free hand teases the other breast, working her up to the point that I know she’ll explode.
She strokes me, her hand unpracticed and the rhythm is broken at times, but it feels so damn good, my eyes close against the sweetness of it. I hold on, even though it’s not easy. I need to make sure she comes first.
She will always come first.
“Gavin,” she cries, her body going tense, her hand squeezing my cock so tight it’s painful.
I open my eyes, watching as her orgasm overtakes her, hurling her over the edge. I watch every moment of it. Kissing her breast, kissing up her chest, her neck along the angles of her face, everywhere I can, my fingers slowing down, stroking her clit and carefully bringing her back to earth.
Cherishing her. Loving her.
She’s everything.
Chapter Forty Seven
Luna
When my eyes finally open, I find Gavin staring at me intently. The deep blue of his are shimmering with a passion that sears me.
“That’s not what I wanted.” My voice is soft, my voice deeper than normal and I can hear the pleasure in it. I know Gavin can too.
“I know,” he admits.
I’ve kept my hand on his cock, even though I’m not moving. His hand is pressed against my center and I know proof of my climax is pooling against his palm, but I’m not embarrassed—at least not as much as I used to be.
