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I shudder, then tense.
"Easy there," he mutters, kissing and playing with me.
It feels good. I question why I've not let him do this before. So I kiss him harder, and he holds me closer.
At some point, his fingers aren't inside me anymore. He pushes his body into mine, and I cry out in pain.
He freezes, putting his face in front of mine. "What's wrong, princess?"
I shake my head, embarrassed. "Nothing. Keep going," I tell him, tugging his face back to mine.
He hesitates, then returns to vigorously circling his tongue in my mouth.
I try to ignore the pain, and soon it doesn't hurt as much.
He grabs my hips and starts moving me at his desired pace.
I'm unsure if I'm doing it right or wrong. I've never felt so full, and my worry I'm doing something wrong and won't make him happy reappears.
He circles his thumb over my clit, keeping his other hand on my hip.
Adrenaline and heat fill me. My body shakes hard. He buries his face in my neck, and our bodies convulse against each other. His cock pumps violently inside me.
When it's over, I stay still, breathing hard, wondering if this is how sex will always be. The beginning hurt, but in the end, it felt good.
Was I good or bad?
He sets me on the seat next to him and warns, "That was just a quickie. Tonight, you're not sleeping at all."
I don't look at him, unsure what happens now. I turn toward the window.
He blurts out, "Jesus. Are ya on your period?"
I glance over in horror. His cock has my blood on it. I shake my head. "No!"
He furrows his eyebrows. "If ya don't have your period, why is there blood on me?"
I glance between his dick and his face over and over, speechless and dying of embarrassment.
His eyes widen. "Jesus, Maeve. Were ya a virgin?"
More horror annihilates me. My face turns hotter and hotter.
He puts his hand on my cheek. "Shit! I'm sorry. Why didn't ya tell me?"
I can't help but be more and more embarrassed. This is the worst-case scenario I could have thought of. I don't know why I don't want him to know I was a virgin, but I don't.
Then, another fear hits me. I blurt out, "If I'm bleeding... I-I don't have any panties to wear!"
He pauses for a minute, glances out the window, then lowers the divider just enough to speak to the driver. He instructs, "Pull over to Marks & Spencer." He rolls the window back up.
Silence fills the air, and tension builds between us. I wish I wasn't ashamed, but I am.
He strokes my arm, questioning, "So you've never done it?"
I cover my face. "Can ya not talk about it?"
"Okay," he calmly says, and the car stops.
