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“Say you’re my little virgin girl, begging to be fucked. Needing my fat cock up your tight little hole until you scream for me to let you come all over it,” he growls.
I’m shocked he knows, and a part of me wonders how he even could.
Being a virgin isn’t exactly something I’ve broadcast throughout my life. Quite the opposite.
It’s the deepest secret I’ve carried for years, torturing my mind the moment I met Dillon.
Fearing if I even did stand a chance with him, he’d outclass me with his experience. His sexual prowls that I know match his physical size and strength.
I prepare to say it for him though, for me as well.
“I just know,” he tells me, reading my expression and easing his grip to a gentle stroke that lands his hands inside my thighs, pushing them further apart.
“I’m not sure I....” I start, my whole body shivering under his touch.
He leans closer, pressing his mouth over mine.
“I’ll show you how. Teach you how,” he murmurs slowly, setting my nerves on edge with his words while his whole body presses against mine.
“First things first,” he remarks formally, yanking at my tights and making me moan so loud he can’t help but smile.
He’s exposed my quivering pussy in one swift movement, pushing my skirt up and my tights down, just enough so he can see my already creaming valley.
I can feel the cool air of the kitchen and the even cooler counter under me stiffening my arousal instead of canceling it out.
My pussy feels like it could melt steel it’s so hot.
My whole body jerks, my back arching when he runs a thick thumb up the length of my sex, bringing it to his lips and sucking on it in one fell swoop.
He makes a loud smacking sound, grinning like a manic before dropping to his knees as mine hook over his powerful shoulders.
I was right to have him stop me in the basement, and hope he can see now, I wanted to be somewhere truly alone with him instead.
Not that I was ever a keen self-pleasurer. Trying to pleasure myself is useless against this sensation, the ultimate feeling his mouth over my drenched pussy gives me.
I grip his silver flecked hair in both hands, writhing my hips and grinding my clit hard against his tongue as I purr his name.
“Dillon… Di-llon…”
Already feeling just how long and loud I’ll be repeating it for some time yet.
Chapter Twelve
Dillon
I knew she was. Hoped she was.
She is.
My virgin princess is about to become my queen.
Telling me what I want to hear.
That she’s mine.
That her body is mine.
That her sweet little pussy and everything attached to it is mine.
Ready to stake my claim. Ready to have her full of what she needs so badly.
Ready to fill her with our family.
I can tell she’s relieved she’s told me, but annoyed that somehow I already knew it at the same time.
All that matters to me though is that I’ll be her first and her only.
Those childbearing hips, her fine ass, and tits will only ever know this man’s mouth and firm touch from today on.
Forever.
Food can wait. It’s clear we both have a bigger hunger for what she really needs.
The delicious dish between her legs. That steaming, tight little virgin hole that needs a scruffing so desperately.
Her tiny nub of a clit is already begging me to please it, standing out proud from its glistening hood.
I want to stay and admire the view of her sex all night, but there’s an urgency in her and myself that I can’t deny.
The tiniest puff of blond hair over her quivering valley makes my breath catch. My primal desires rising from somewhere deep inside me.
My dick twitching in my pants drenched in my own precome already from the sight of her semi-nakedness.
So young. So innocent.
So perfect.
She’s too perfect. If there even is such a thing, but fuck. She’s got it going on in spades.
Thinking back, she was right to turn me down in the restroom at work.
My queen deserves more than that shithole, and having her home with me where she belongs will do for now.
I hear my free hand swiping away plates and take out containers, giving me more room to see her and feel her silky smooth thighs on either side of my face.
She moans grow louder, gasping my name and then something about the food, but I’m getting what I’ve wanted since the moment I first saw her.
After, we can eat.
Later I can tidy up any mess I’ve made, from the food or from her sweet, trembling slit which pulses as my mouth and tongue find the places I’ll remember forever.
Becky’s special places and what each one does to her when handled as they should be.
Her wide hips buck heavily against my grip, eager to have as much of our bodies connected as she senses her own building climax from a man’s touch instead of her own clumsy efforts in a basement bathroom someplace.
