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Two fingers slide into me deeply, not blindly, with a mission and they find it. I scream as he rubs the sensitive spot few men even care about finding, let alone know how to use. Firmer now, he rubs then his mouth covers my clitoris and I’m lost. No more, it’s too much, no, no. My entire body explodes into a ball of fire, leaving me a shaking mass of smoldering ash.
“Are you ready for me?” The air hot in my ear makes me whole all over again, just for him. I nod. “Good, because I need to fuck you now. I’m going to fuck you hard and rough. I’m too damned on the edge for anything else. I won’t always fuck you like this, I promise, but right now this is what my cock needs.”
The word rough should scare me, it always has. I’ve always refused rough, scared of what it meant to the man. I’m not scared of Grant. I need him too much to deny him anything. My hips rock into his still clothed and covered cock urging him to give me what we both want.
Closing his eyes, he rolls off me and stands at the edge of the bed. I watch as he undoes his pants and pushes them down with boxer briefs. My breath catches at the sight of his cock, thick, long, and hard. He’s so hard it’s almost touching his lean muscled stomach. He’s leaking, and it makes the mushroom tip head of him glisten. I wonder what he will taste like. The thought shocks me. I’ve never wondered what a man tastes like, because the idea of going down on a man has never once appealed to me.
The one horrible time a man had forced himself into my mouth ensured I would never let another man do that to me again. Yet Grant moves closer and the desire to know the taste of him is so strong I reach out to pull him closer.
Grant catches my wrist, bringing it up over my head. I try to touch him with my other hand. Catching my other hand, he holds them easily in his large hand with a grip just short of painful. I’m open, on display for him and he likes what he sees. A thumb from his free hand brushes against my lips. “Open your legs wider, sweetheart.”
Desperate to please him, to have him where I need him most, I do as he commands. His eyes cling to my glistening pussy weeping for him to be inside me. Grasping his cock, he runs the head down the slit of me, over and over, teasing me until I’m begging for him to fuck me. Finally, he pushes inside then stops, only the head of his cock is inside me. I shudder from the feel of him. It’s not enough, not close to what I need.
“Please.” I whisper. Blue glowing eyes capture mine and hold as he thrusts into me and we are skin to skin. I fight to maintain his gaze drowning in the feeling of him deep, thick, filling me full. He’s searing into me, every ridge, and every vein with every throbbing beat of his heart. This feeling, this moment tearing away everything I was and leaving me feeling like I’m a raw open wound. Only Grant can assuage what he’s created. Then he does, with every thrust deep into the heart of me, utter bliss consumes my entire being. Again and again, now he’s fucking me as hard and rough as he promised.
One hand presses my wrists into the bed, the other is at my head. His weight is behind his every thrust deep into me. Taking me higher, closer to the sun burning too brightly yet not enough. He feels it, his movements, deeper, grinding once, twice, again and again and I’m coming. I’m coming, the words are ripped from my throat as I’m pulled under a crushing wave of pleasure, leaving me trembling and floating with the current.
I can’t move, can only lie beneath him as he continues moving inside me. He thrusts deep, swelling inside me as he comes with a shaky whisper of my name. Too soon he pulls out of me and collapses on his side. He’s close enough to touch. I turn into his heat. He catches me and pulls me tight into the heat of his body. I’m no longer floating free, I’m safe now, tied to the heat of Grant. The pounding of his heart below my ear is the last thing I’m aware of as I fall asleep in his arms. I
don’t stir as he wipes the tears away under my eyes.
I wake up to the room faintly lit by dark blues and pinks of the early morning. Grant’s is suckling gently at my breast. A hand shapes and toys with the other breast. Moaning at how good he makes me feel, my hands go into his hair to hold him to me.
“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up for what feels like forever.”
“Mmm... forever?” I moan, as I run a hand down his back in awe of the knot of muscle beneath my roaming hand and lord his ass is hard. Dear lord, he is just so hard, everywhere.
“Forever, three minutes, same thing.”
I laugh as I pull his mouth back to my breast. Moaning at what his mouth does to me. “Your mouth is addictive.”
“I feel the same way about your pussy, sweetheart.”
His hand moves down my back slowly before clutching my ass. God, his hands are so big and hot as he kneads my flesh again and again before he pulls me closer. He pulls my leg up over his arm as he slides his hard cock into me. Side by side, we face each other. I get lost in his eyes, how can eyes so blue be so hot and full of fire. His slow thrusts are a sweet, heady difference from last night. He captures my mouth in a gentle, deep kiss. I’m lost in his body, in the exotic feel of him inside me. I have no idea how long he moves before suddenly he tilts me up to him. This time when he thrusts into me he brushes against that perfect spot.
I gasp his name, clinging to him. Grant chuckles, “I’m right here, sweetheart. I’m ready to come and I need you to be, too.”
His thrusts are shorter, more powerful. What feels like only seconds later I’m coming with a body-shuddering moan. Hearing it, feeling it, his thrusts are faster now. It isn’t long before he comes inside me. I’m still boneless, still under his control. Dimly, I feel him lower my leg from over his arm and slide it over his hip. Grant rolls me into his arms and I fall asleep, sinking into the heat of him.
The next time I wake up I’m alone and the room is awash in the glow of late morning sun. I roll over to find a bedside clock telling me it’s after nine-thirty. Sliding off the high bed, there is no sign of Grant. The door going out to the condo is closed while the bathroom is open with the light still on.
In the bathroom I look around in awe. It’s a gorgeous bathroom. It’s a five piece with a huge shower as big as the entire bathroom of the condo I’ve been staying in. I lose count of how many heads there are. Although it looks like it will be nice, it’s too much for me to deal with this morning. I make my way to the jetted tub instead.
I’m sore, very pleasantly sore. A long, hot soak is very appealing. It’s been almost two years since I last had sex. After ending things with Frank, I wanted to go slow. I wanted to have a nice, normal boyfriend/girlfriend relationship.
The man I finally picked was a cute coworker. Scott spent months chatting me up, then there were weeks of carefully planned dates. Then he was done with me the morning after we had sex. The sex had been great, if a lot more work than he thought he’d have to put in on me. All I could do was sit there frozen as he went on about how I was lucky he’d been willing to fuck me, as he wasn’t a chubby chaser. Stumbling into the shower, beneath the extremely hot spray trying to wash the whole thing away I decided I had had enough sex to last a lifetime.
In the years after Frank and before the ho-hum Scott I was just fine without it. My resolution wasn’t difficult to maintain. No man had interested me in the slightest. While orgasms were nice, I’ve been content to make my own, masturbating once or twice every few months.
Last night had not been nice, for the first time, I finally understood what ecstasy really meant. It made every orgasm I’ve had until last night pale in comparison—alone or with a man. Even the two clients who could make me wet and give me pleasure the way none of the other clients ever did didn’t even come close. Frank, although unselfish in bed, had never once made the world disappear like it did last night.
The first time I came with a client wasn’t until my fifth client, and it was a shock not to pretend. A shock I was sure made me a full scale whore, leaving me shaking and crying. Fumbling, tearful, I tried to quit. Even though I didn’t have nearly enough money or other options besides what I was doing. Eighteen years of indoctrination were still deep enough for me to be terrified at the idea of becoming a hooker who actually liked sex. It was one thing to be paid for sex because I had to do it. It was something else entirely, to enjoy sex.
Tabatha talked me out of it by sending me home with a vibrator. She told me to use it until I was able orgasm alone. Then call her when I was done. Her instruction was necessary because it wasn’t something I had ever done before. It took almost an entire day for me to be able to finally have an orgasm. Lying there, I realized I had never had an orgasm until the client.
I had never touched myself, having been told it was evil. With a house full of people, there was never a moment to try even if I wanted to. Billy didn’t care if I came, so I never did. Sex was something I never looked forward to with Billy. After moving to Las Vegas, there was too much stress to think of something as trivial as sex. The few times I was actually aroused, I simply refused to acknowledge it. As I had for years.
With my body still trembling from my orgasm I realized I wasn’t numb from my son’s death anymore. After going for months on autopilot, I surfaced to a world where the idea of pleasure wasn’t a horrible, evil thing. I’d already been reading to learn all the things I’d missed, should have learned growing up. This was something to add to my long list.
