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I reached over and took a condom out of my bedside table, quicking rolling it down my shaft and hovering over her. I watched her face for any sign that she wanted to stop, needing her to want this as much as I did.
“Last chance, Cinderelly,” I panted. “Are you sure you wanna do this?”
“Yes,” she breathed. “A thousand times, yes.”
That was all I needed to hear.
I held the base of my dick, slowly guiding it to her center. The moment the head of my dick was in, I paused, both hands coming to the bed to support my weight. There was no way this simple joining could feel so right, could feel likeeverything.But it did. And I needed a moment to take it all in.
When I was able to catch my breath, I began to move. She grabbed handfuls of the comforter beneath us, her legs locked in on either side of me. I quickly realized that we were somewhat hanging off the bed, so I stopped, wrapped an arm around her waist, and hoisted her upwards toward the pillows. As she rested her head on the pillows, I smiled to myself and thought about all the shit-talking I did about her holding onto the headboard when in reality, I didn’t want to fuck her. I wanted to love on her.
She watched my face with a quizzical look. “What’s funny?” she asked.
“Nothing, just thinking about all the shit I was talking before.” I pulled halfway out of her, then went back in. She shivered. “Thinking about how wrong I was.”
“Wrong about what?”
Wrong about how hard and fast I would fall. About my ability to not fall in love with you and make this messier than it already is.
I didn’t want to say that and risk hearing that she didn’t feel the same way. So instead, I said, “Wrong for worrying about you being a virgin.”
She smiled. “I hope that’s a good thing.”
“It is.”
I dropped a kiss on her forehead, then on her lips. Her arms wrapped around my torso, her legs around my waist. I groaned into her mouth, the squeeze she gave my dick from the inside so pleasurable, it was almost painful.
Our bodies moved in tandem, ebbing and flowing, Ciara rising up to meet me and me coming down to meet her. Soon, her arms loosened from my torso, her hands roaming along the ridges of my back. Her touch was light, gentle, at odds with her biting her lip and the rough way her hips met mine.
I loved every moment of it. And every part of her.
It felt like no time at all before she panted, “I’m gonna come.” My balls tightened just as her pussy went through a series of squeezes, and I came just after she did. We lay there for a moment, me resting my forehead on her clavicle before I pulled out of her and carefully took off the condom. I hurried to dispose of it in the trashcan in the bathroom, then returned with a damp washcloth to clean myself and her off. With that done, I snuggled in close to her, throwing an arm over her middle as she stared at the ceiling with a smile on her face.
I kissed her shoulder. “Hey,” I murmured. “So…how are you doing?”
She hummed, her smile broadening. “I’m doing exceptionally well,” she said, voice quiet and happy. “And you?”
“Terrible,” I drawled.
She snorted and shook her head.
“But really though,” I said after a moment. “Was it everything you’d hoped? Having sex for the first time with your husband, in a bed?”
She nodded, then turned her head to look at me. “Was it everything you’d hoped for?” she returned.
I laughed. “Sex rarely disappoints me,” I said. “So yes, it was everything I’d expected.”
She poked my shoulder. “Men always try to play it off as if they don’t, or shouldn’t, have any expectations about sex,” she said. “As if all their sexual experiences are good ones, or that it doesn’t matter who they’re with or the chemistry. But I know it matters. Especially to you.”
I raised my eyebrows at this. “Especiallyto me?” I repeated. “Why the distinction?”
She mirrored my expression, though hers seemed to be more teasing than mine. “Because you’re an undercover romantic.”
It was my turn to snort. “Right.”
“Really though.” She turned so she was facing me fully, propping her head in her hand. “You didn’t want to have sex with me because you thought I was a virgin and didn’t want to ruin my maiden virtue.”
“That was just a courtesy,” I protested. “I’m a nice guy.”
