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Quickly, before she could chicken out, she found the box of condoms and pulled one out. No guy had ever made her be on top, let alone put a condom on him, and now it was looking like Luke was going to make her do both.
She tore the packet open with shaking hands, then realized she was in such a hurry to get the embarrassing parts over with that she hadn’t even unzipped his jeans yet. Was he even hard for her anymore? If he wasn’t, would he make her do something to turn him on? She hoped he didn’t want her to dance or act like a porn star or something. She’d told him she was bad at everything, so why was he making her do this?
Part of her wanted to give up and walk away. This was so far outside of her comfort zone. It wasn’t her job to get him naked and put a condom on him—wasn’t that the guy’s job? Wasn’t it more her job to lie back and try to enjoy it?
“Come here,” he said gently.
She moved up next to him.
“You’re being such a good girl for me, Ophelia.”
Her anxiety melted and sluiced away. Arousal spiraled through her again, her sexual reactions to his approval disturbing.
“Unzip my jeans.”
Slowly, she obeyed, hungrily watching as each bit of his belly came into view. Dark hair feathered down his lower belly, leading her gaze lower. He was hard, but bent off to one side. She stalled, not sure what to do next.
He grabbed his jeans and tugged them down, then pulled them right off, and laid them aside. His cock was still hard, but there was still the matter of the condom. And did he expect a blow job first? Was that something most guys assumed would happen?
“Get the condom.”
Hesitantly, she picked it up. “I was going to . . . You don’t want . . . ?” She gestured at his cock but tried not to make eye contact with the thing. It felt like it was watching her impatiently.
“Not right now,” he said, his voice gruff. “Take the condom out of the package.”
She did, and when she hesitated, he guided her through rolling it on, impatience making her fumble almost as much as her inexperience.
“Now?” she asked, hopefully.
“Now,” he agreed.
She hesitated, and he pulled her closer, then arranged her on top of him, straddling his hips.
“Take me in your hand and guide me in.”
She moaned in distress. “Why are you making me do this? I don’t know what I’m doing!”
“You’ll figure it out, beautiful. We have all night.”
“But I need it now,” she complained. Maybe too roughly, she grabbed his cock and tried to guide it into her, but couldn’t get the angle right. She cried out in frustration. Gently, he readjusted and lined himself up with her pussy.
“There, go ahead.”
She whimpered, wriggled, taking him into her inch by inch, wanting him inside her so bad, but her pussy clenched, making it difficult to take him. When he was finally all the way in, he filled her so full she froze there, whimpering. Helpfully, he grabbed two handfuls of her ass and rolled his hips to thrust up into her, but then stopped again.
“Come on. You can do this.”
Unsteadily, awkwardly, she moved, only pulling off of him a little before pushing him deeper, grinding down hard so her clit rubbed against him. She struggled, not sure how to keep a rhythm when she was so desperately needy. Losing focus, she gave in to what her body wanted, using his to give her what it was begging for. Grinding against him, moaning as he kissed her, she took her pleasure until he abruptly pushed her off of him.
“No!” She rolled off of him and collapsed on her side, panting and angry. “You’re a hateful man! Why do you keep stopping me? Why don’t you want me to come?” She wanted to slap him, or deck him, or claw his eyes out. “No one’s ever cared if they got me off or not, but you’re ruining it for me on purpose!”
“Turn around and straddle me,” he commanded.
“Turn around? No! Just turn your head or something. I’m getting myself off now.”
Pitilessly, he grabbed her arm and guided her until she was facing his legs, then had her straddle him again, and urged her down until he was sheathed deep inside her. The position was odd, and made him feel even bigger. He gave her a few experimental thrusts, and groaned like he could barely handle being inside her in this position. She braced her hands between his legs and wriggled slowly, getting used to the sensation, and loving the way his grunts of pleasure got louder when she moved. He drew a finger down her back, and when she arched in response, the tilt of her hips had him hit a spot inside her that made her squeal and try to scramble off. He held her there, rocking his hips carefully, rubbing against the spot over and over until her brain felt scrambled.
“Mmm, and that would be your G-spot,” he murmured. It was the strangest sensation—bone-melting and nails on a chalkboard. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to kiss him or punch him in the eye.
