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“No,” I answered immediately and then tried again. “I mean...are you clean?”
“I’m clean,” he said, moving his eyes back to mine.
“I am too. So, we’re fine.”
His brow was the one to crinkle this time.
“I’m not a fan of pulling out,” he said.
Exasperated, I nodded to my arm.
“The implant,” I stated.
“Ah,” is all he replied.
For a drunk man, he was surprisingly intent on the matter of birth control. Luckily, my mother had made an appointment at Planned Parenthood when I was sixteen, determined I wouldn’t end up like her.
I put my mother out of my head as his fingers danced over the top of my bra. I almost moved to take it off, but instead, he just hooked his hand under my breast and pulled it out so that it sat atop the lace, still supported. At the sight of the first one, he regained that hungry look in his eye.
I had always been confused about the sexual attraction of breasts, but when he put his mouth over it, all of that disappeared. The way his tongue laved over a nipple before sucking lightly had heat shooting straight to my stomach, and I knew I was in trouble when he pulled the other breast out. This time, his fingers took control, rolling the small bud between them and squeezing hard enough to make me gasp, but not hard enough to hurt. The man kissed the valley between them, looked at me again, and then moved his other hand downward. While he tweaked one of my nipples, two of his other fingers slid into me.
It was tight, and I mewled.
And when he spread the two fingers, I thought I might explode around him. Then he did something even better. I felt his fingers curve, and they hit a spot that I had only heard about—where the thousands of sensitive nerves that made up my clitoris carried their power through to the vaginal wall. He kept stroking that one area, kept pulling my nipple with his other hand, and when he apparently deemed me ready, he pulled his hand out of me, letting me feel empty for only a moment before he pulled his pants off and sheathed himself in me.
The feeling was...not what I expected. Romance novels and sordid explanations from former friends had led me to believe that it would be an uncontrollable kind of pleasure, like the feeling of him stretching me out would push me to the brink of orgasm and not let me come back. Instead, what I felt was a dull pain that blossomed out when he entered me.
“Are you okay?” he asked, and I smoothed my face out once more.
“Perfect,” I answered. “Keep going.”
He kept watching my face, and I was worried I’d have to fake an orgasm, fake enjoying it, just so I could say that my first time didn’t suck. I wanted him to put his fingers back, move them in the way he had, put histongueback, and hit that one little—
Oh.
He changed position so that he was more upright and there it was. The pleasure. My earlier arousal flooded back to me, heating my whole body again. I sighed in relief that I wasn’t broken and that this wasn’t going to be a disappointing story I told over a beer to someone far in the future.
I felt it blush across my chest, and I was arching again, reaching for this man that was doing amazing things and wanting to pull him down to me. He didn’t though, probably knowing that the pleasure would change again, and instead gripped me bruisingly by the hips. As he slammed into me, his arms jerked me towards him, and the meeting of skin was only matched by the mounting fire in my veins. I could feel myself hurtling towards an orgasm that even alcohol couldn’t reduce the effects of. The man appeared to know what he was doing though, because he slowed his pace, and pulled out of me. I felt gaping and empty, like he was depriving me of the climax I wassolooking forward to, and he let out a low chuckle. He inserted two fingers into me and curved them again, letting me keen and clench around them, and pressed the thumb of the same hand to my clit, which was throbbing almost painfully.
His other hand strayed to his member, and as he dragged me towards the finish line, I watched him stroke himself to completion, ejaculation landing on my chest, over my bra, and a small amount hitting my chin.
Only moments later, the pressure he was exerting on my clit was too much, and I unraveled like some sort of flower, coming into full bloom and letting out a moan as I did so.
Chapter Three
Adrian
She was beautiful.
I felt a little creepy, standing there in the lamplight cast by the outside street and watching her sleep, but I couldn’t help it. I had places to be. I checked my watch. It was a little after two a.m. Oh well, I had functioned on less sleep. I pulled my shirt back over my shoulders and made sure all the buttons were lined up accordingly.
I glanced at the girl in the bed again, and the same thought hit me—she was beautiful.
She had naturally curly, light brown hair that was currently splayed across one of the pillows. Her mouth was open in sleep. The small mouth was a pink rose that I would have kissed again if I didn’t think she’d wake up. There was a scattering of freckles across her nose, like she’d spent the summer outdoors, and her skin had a healthy tan to complement it. I knew that behind those dark dusted eyelids lay hazel eyes, with a striking intensity that could—and did—take my breath away. I wondered if everyone she came into contact with had such respiratory distress upon meeting her—her gaze alone could be a cause of concern for the public health authorities.
It wasn’t like me to go home with a stranger, but these last weeks had been particularly difficult. Her captivating smile had lured me into a sense of ease. I had completely forgotten about the stress at work for a couple of hours at the bar, and after, had had maybe the best sex of my adult life.
I couldn’t regret my decision, even if it was completely out of character.
