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It seems like I can feel every centimeter as it slips inside. Each vein pulsing in his cock. My instinct is to rebel against the intrusion. Shy away from the pain. Will hisses when I tense, my inner muscles clenching to fight the urge to move away. His fingers dig into my hips, his face as concerned as it was when I got hit by the football. The way he’s invading my body feels violent, but the expression on his face is achingly tender.
“Okay?”
I manage a nod. His hips have paused, but the discomfort hasn’t disappeared. I don’t look down to see how far in he is, because I’m not sure I want to know the answer.
Will’s thumb rubs a soothing circle above my hipbone before his hand moves to the spot right above where he’s entering me, massaging there gently. A spark of pleasure breaks through the agony.
“You’re so fucking tight,” he tells me. He sounds happy about it.
Me, not so much. I’m glad it feels good for him, but I’d be on board with being a little loose if it meant feeling the way I usually do when he touches me. I just have to trust this is the worst part. I should have asked for some advice from my friends, maybe, rather than acting like I knew what they were talking about.
“I’m a virgin,” I remind him.
Will smirks. “Not for much longer.”
It’s exactly what I need from him—confidence and reassurance. He’s exactly what I need. I can’t imagine doing this with anyone else.
“Keep going.”
Another inch.
“Do I want to know how much is left?”
“Probably not.” His fingers rub against my sensitive clit again, which helps. “You can take it, baby. You’re doing so well.”
“You’re so big,” I moan. I’m not sure I’ll be able to walk tomorrow.
Right now, it feels like I’ll never forget what having him inside of me feels like. I’ve seen his dick. Touched it. Sucked it. I knew the size when I begged for this. But it seems physically impossible that more can fit inside of me.
There’s worry on Will’s face again. I’m not a masochist, so I’m positive I don’t look like I’m enjoying myself. “We can stop.”
“Fuck no.” Not only do I hate backing down from a challenge, I don’t want to endure getting to this point again. “Fuck me. For real. Don’t hold back.”
Decisiveness flashes across his face. And then, with one quick thrust, he bottoms out. My legs are spread wide enough that I can feel his groin brushing my clit. It hurts, the pain of being split apart a sudden stab that steals my breath. But it also feels good, the primal part of me that’s been craving this, savoring how it feels to be filled. A missing piece, snapping into place. I’m complete without Will, but he makes me feel whole.
His expression is strained, the tendons of his neck drawn tight. But his eyes are soft as he tucks some of my hair behind one ear, then slides his hand down the length of my body until he reaches my knee, hooking it over his hip. Something shifts inside, the burn of being stretched transitioning to sparks of pleasure. The pain starts to fade as my body adjusts to the new sensation.
I moan. “Do that again.”
He moves inside of me again, the slow drag of his cock a thousand times more arousing than anything I’ve ever experienced. Basic instinct overtaking reason, a much deeper urge than chasing pleasure or escaping pain.
Will starts to actually fuck me, sweat building between our bodies as they move together. Good turns into pure pleasure, pain fading to a distant memory. My nails dig into his shoulders and my legs wrap around his waist, trying to get as close to him as is physically possible.
The smell of sex fills the air, salty and musky and arousing. I feel the pressure in my pelvis expanding, tendrils of heat spreading through me as my muscles tighten and then start to shake. All I can focus on is the hardness inside of me, the stretch less foreign with each thrust.
He senses the shift in my reactions, angling his hips and finding a spot that immediately makes my body detonate in an exquisite burst of sensation. It feels like I’m floating—thoughtless and weightless—nothing registering except a deluge of pleasure so intense it’s numbing. My pussy is pulsing around something, instead of nothing, and the difference is astounding. So consuming that I barely register another foreign feeling—the throb of his dick deep inside of me, followed by a seep of warmth. I come again, or I’m still coming, everything about this moment hazy and dreamlike. His strokes slow, then stop.
The mixture of our releases is already leaking out of me. I reach down to touch the sticky mess, my fingers smearing through the wetness as I brush against the spot where he’s still inside if me. I can feel how stretched I am around him, how wide he’s holding me open. The coarse rasp of his pubic hair and the smooth skin of his balls.
Neither of us say anything. This is a moment that doesn’t need it, shimmering and intangible. Meant to be savored silently, because it won’t last forever.
He kisses me, soft and sweet, still inside of me.
And I know Will Aster just wrecked me for anyone else.
THIRTY
WILL
