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That fist inside my belly opens up and expands and I swear I feel fireworks burst on my skin. I feel every inch of my body waking up and climaxing in a mad rush, my limbs jerking and my hips twisting under him.
But most of all, I feel it in my pussy.
I feel it spasming and clenching around his rod as I come and come and drench him.
Drench my own thighs and the sheets beneath us.
But it’s okay.
Because I don’t think he minds and I don’t think I’ve ever been this relaxed.
This drowsy and this happy that I’m smiling as my eyelids flutter and my vision goes in and out.
And then I feel him move.
I feel him shift and slide and come off my body.
When I notice a blur of his bronzed, sweaty body kneeling between my open thighs, I force my eyes to remain open. I force myself to remain still as well because it’s his turn now.
I can’t be hungry or greedy, asking him to come back over me and fuck me again; the first fuck isn’t even over yet.
But God, the things he’s doing while kneeling on the bed are so fucking arousing.
The way he slides off the condom — I see the drops of blood on it, that gives me a second of pride that I bled for him, for my Alaric — and grips his trunk of flesh. The way he jerks it in tight and fast movements, throwing his head back, groaning. The way every single muscle on his body is standing up and standing taut as he pleasures himself.
Jesus.
Is that how he looks when he’s making himself come?
All sweaty and big and flushed. All horny and dark.
When he brings his other hand and grips his balls and tugs at them, I moan.
I have to.
My pussy is juicing up again and I can’t help but rock on the bed, and I think that’s what does it for him.
My moans and my little jerks, because he snaps his head back and his pretty dark eyes clash with mine. And the first sight of me, laying there all open, brings about the first jerk in him.
The first spasm that I see on his body, on his chest and stomach, but I feel on my skin.
Because he comes.
And his cream lashes out and lands on my belly.
Then it lands on my heaving tits and my trembling chest and finally on my puffy and swollen pussy, and I don’t waste any time. I don’t waste a single second to dip my fingers in it and rub his cum all over my body. I don’t waste a second to douse myself in his scent and to revel in it.
By the end of it, I smell like him and my Alaric is so spent that he almost drops down on the bed but his arm shoots out and he catches his fall, hovering and leaning over me, his other hand still wrapped around his cock, his chest heaving and his groans echoing around the room.
I bring him all the way down over me by reaching up and winding my arms around his neck. And then we’re kissing and making out and eating at each other’s lips.
In the kiss, I whisper, “Best first kiss ever.”
And into the kiss, he chuckles.
Which becomes the sweet, deep sound of his laugh — the first I’ve heard from him — when I lick his lips.
So yeah, totally.
Best. First kiss. Ever.
Sunlight floods every inch of the room and I blink my eyes open.
The first thing I realize is that I’m smiling. I’m feeling all lethargic and sleepy and a good kind of sore.
I hear a voice.
“Good morning.” Which then adds, “Well, good afternoon. Since it’s 12:15.”
I snap my head in the direction of the voice and see a blurry silhouette of a woman.
It’s Mo.
She’s standing at the window, pulling the drapes open, and holy fuck.
Am I naked?
I went to sleep naked, didn’t I?
Fuck.
I don’t want Mo seeing me naked. That’s the last thing I want.
My smile falls off and I scramble to pull my blanket up to hide from her. But then I realize that no, I’m not naked. I have my favorite pajamas on.
And guess what, they’re not purple. They’re pink with white lace.
The only reason this asinine thought comes into my head is because this fact had come as a surprise to the man who dug them out of my drawers himself. Not to mention he also put them on me, because I was so drowsy and lazy and boneless after everything that he’d done to me last night.
Including the bath that he’d drawn.
God, the bath.
I go to smile again — my heart is already smiling — at the thought but I shove those thoughts away and focus on the present because Mo’s here.
I spring up in a sitting position, and look for my glasses. Which I find half a second later because they’re on the nightstand. Again courtesy of him; he’d found them on the floor last night — I probably took them off in all my crying and sobbing — and brought them up to my nightstand so I could have them within easy reach.
