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The first time with a man, I was always shy and reserved. I held back. I made just enough noise or pretended to come at least once. I didn’t let him see my body move the way it wanted to, in pleasure, in response.
Those reservations didn’t exist tonight. Vaughn brought out a hunger in me that I’d wanted to feed. I squeezed his cock with vise-like pressure as he slid in and out of me. My hips rocked. My hands trailed from his body to mine. My mouth caressed him in kisses. It was as if an explosion of sensation was passing back and forth between us.
I gasped for breath when I felt his fingers thread through mine and the wild thrusts slowed. I looked into his eyes.
He pressed his lips to mine, pumping with a slow hard thrust until my lips parted with a sigh.
“You feel so fucking good,” he whispered.
I didn’t have words. I didn’t have a way to say to him that something was happening as our sweat dripped between us and the friction of our skin created heat. That I let him in faster than I had any other man. That I never slept with someone so quickly. That in this moment I thought I was connected to him more than any person.
He hilted himself inside me and I whimpered, tilting my lips toward him.
It was pleasure mixed with douses of pain. Wickedness sewn with gratification. Sex and sin. Lust and want I wanted to be love.
My breaths quickened. I was about to come again. Harder and slower than my body had every experienced.
“Fuck me,” I whispered as the pulses detonated in my core.
Vaughn pushed inside me, pinning me to the bed. I writhed and jerked.
“Oh God,” I cried.
He kissed my neck and throat. “Feel it,” he demanded. “How fucking good it feels like this.”
Locked under his body I had nowhere to go but through the pleasure. To let my body absorb what he could do to me. The bliss coursed through me and I sighed with complete satisfaction.
I’d never let an orgasm’s impact soak through me before. I’d always wiggled and shaken it off as if it had to happen quickly. But not this time. I reveled in it. Each wave. Each jolt.
My body felt warm and soothed, yet alive with energy.
Maybe Vaughn sensed what he had awakened in me. Or maybe he wanted to see how far he could push me. He rolled to his back, bringing me on top of him.
His hands traced the outline of my breasts, stopping to squeeze my nipples. My hands met his and I covered his hands with my palms. I felt him thrust inside me and the rocking took over. My clit needed the friction. Every time my hips moved, it brought me closer to another orgasm.
His hands fell away, gripping my waist with authority as he roughly moved me up and down over his cock.
I bounced wildly and passionately, rubbing my nipples, leaning backward toward the ceiling.
“Don’t stop fucking me like this,” he ordered. His voice ragged and deep.
The farther I leaned back, the deeper he hit my walls, until I was convulsing and vibrating in an uncontrollable way.
I slammed forward on his chest.
“Shit,” he hissed. His hands splayed firmly on my back and I felt his body seize with tension and then he growled quietly against my neck.
His head collapsed onto the mattress and he exhaled.
“Fuck.”
I tried to catch my breath while he drew lazy circles on my back. I extended one leg and then the other as he slid out of me. There was a sudden stickiness between my thighs.
I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want what we experienced to be over. Somehow moving might change it. The moment would pass, or we would get distracted by everything outside of our sex bubble. Because that’s what it was—a bubble of sex. Where nothing else mattered but what we did to each other.
I was afraid to talk. I wanted the moment to last—at least until the sun came up.
Chapter Ten
