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She clings on tightly, making the base of my rock-hard manhood ache in anticipation.
I imagine grinding into her, the fantasy so much more vivid now I’ve felt how tight she is, how eagerly she grasps onto me.
Slowly, the orgasm passes, leaving her panting and slumping forward. I stand and stare down at her, knowing I can’t resist this, knowing I can’t fight it.
She said she wants her first time to be special… shepromisedit. To who?
And, more importantly, is there a way I can make here and now special for her?
Maybe if she knew the truth.
Freya jumps to her feet, almost tripping as her jeans tangle her up.
I dart for the rifle, instincts driving me. Freya turns and sees what I’m going for. If the way her eyes snap open is any indication, she didn’t spot the weapon before.
“Wait,” she says, shaking her head, her voice far lower than it was before. “It’s not that. It’s Mom. Look.”
I follow her finger, watching as her mother emerges from Freya’s bedroom and looks around as if searching for her.
“She can’t know,” Freya says a moment later.
“About…us?” I ask.
Freya turns to me, distracting as hell with her legs bare, her thighs wet from her release.
“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, leaning down to pull up her pants. “It’s just that…well, Mom’s a good person.”
“I’m sure she is,” I say.
“But the thing is, she’s a little old-fashioned in her views. She doesn’t like promiscuous behavior in men or women. When I promised my first time would be special, I was talking about Mom. Shemademe promise after….”
“After?” I prompt, wanting to know every little thing about her.
“Julie had an experience years ago before her dad passed. With these two guys in a parking lot. It was all consensual, but Mom freaked when she found out. She was terrified I’d do something similar.”
I try to hide my distaste. The thought of Freya in a parking lot with another man – or men – is too much.
“I’d never judge Julie, but that stuff just isn’t for me. If I’m going to be with a man….”
She trails off, leaving me to complete her sentence in my mind.
I’m going to care about him.
“And it’s not like I can say, relax, Mom, we justdid stuff.We didn’t have sex. That’ll be worse.”
“I understand,” I say, wondering if now is the right time, wondering if I should tell her the truth.
She must care about me on some level. She’s crossed that line and risked upsetting her mom, so there has to be something there. But that doesn’t mean she wants all the rest of it…the family or the life together.
Stepping forward, I decide on a half measure, something that hopefully won’t scare her away. Or worse, make her back off while we’re forced to be together, physically.
Just the idea of doing that – resisting her, knowing we’re never going to be intimate again – exhausts me.
“I care about you, Freya,” I tell her. “This isn’t just a fling.”
“What is it then?” she whispers, raising her hand and touching my face.
“The start of something,” I say passionately. “But I understand if you don’t want to tell your mom.”
