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“Going slow,” he said in his low, sexy baritone voice as he inched in. His breathing became more erratic, sometimes stopping. Finally, he was in completely and I grabbed one of his butt cheeks, while managing to work my other hand around the front and tease his balls.
“Holy fuck,” he whispered, and I might have made a joke about how it kind of was since he was fucking the reverend’s daughter, if I could have formed words.
I didn’t want him to think I was a total missionary-position dud on the first session, so I tried a few tricks – I tightened my internal muscles around him and felt him jerk.
“Fuck, Brooker,” he said, stopping completely still. “Don’t move for a minute,” he ordered me. The Russian swore a lot more during sex than he did during normal conversation – yep sexy, everything he did was sexy.
“Why?” I teased him and tightened my muscles around him again. His eyes opened and he frowned as he fixed a hazy glare at me, before closing his eyes again. He began to move slowly inside of me, with each move his arm muscles flexed and I continued to tease his balls and butt, giving him an occasional clamp from inside. He began to pick up the pace and even though I didn’t come without clit stimulation, it felt so good to feel full of The Russian that I came pretty close to a second release.
As he quickened, he seemed to fill every inch of me and I cried out with the pleasure and pain. Then he came in a loud growl of pleasure; so fucking hot. He seemed to come forever, and then he settled down holding me.
“Don’t pull out,” I said, wanting to keep him in for as long as I could, to feel him inside me filling me up. We remained attached, breathing heavy, looking at each other and I was gone –truly, madly, deeply lost in the ‘L’ word that was too early to say.
*****
After separating, getting rid of the condom and snuggling into spoon position, we did manage to get some sleep somewhere between one a.m. and sunrise. I stirred before The Russian and just watched him sleep. He was so beautiful – long dark lashes, the most kissable mouth, high cheekbones and chiseled jaw ... just beautiful. And even though he joked about being a great catch, I don’t think he really knew what a great catch he was. Then there was the body I could mount every day for the rest of my life and never tire of it. I ran my eyes down his chest, down to the sheet at the edge of his hips and the morning wood below it. When I returned my eyes to his, he was watching me.
“Brooker,” he said my name softly and with affection, and then he reached over and touched my face, with an expression in his eyes like he was home. I was in heaven, kill me now, this will do me; I can leave the earth happy.
“Did you sleep or have you just been studying me all night?” he teased.
“I tried to stay awake to gaze upon you, but in all honesty, I was completely out of it until about ten minutes ago. And you?”
“Same,” he said.
I ran my nails lightly over his chest, watching as his skin broke out in goosebumps and the erection under the sheet got harder and higher.
“You know where that’s going to lead?” he asked. I began to stroke his large erection through the sheet, not touching his skin ... yet.
“I sure do,” I said, and smiled. He shook his head at me.
“You’re trouble, Brooker. You tell me that you want to take it slow, then you rip my boxers off and now, you’re encouraging me again. Just trouble.”
I laughed and then in a flash he grabbed me, pushed me below him, while holding the weight of his chest in his arms ... he was a big boy, no wonder his arms were so well built if he was constantly holding up his own weight.
“Tell me what that was about last night?” he said, quietly.
“What?”
“The missionary thing. Has someone hurt you?” he asked, scanning my face.
I felt my face go red. “No. I just wanted to go slowly,” I said, again. It was the truth ... I didn’t need or believe in instant intimacy ... I like a build-up. “We don’t need to do everything in our first sexual encounter.”
He breathed out, as if he was deciding if he believed me or not and then he rolled onto his side and pulled me against him, my back against his chest. His erection pushed against my butt cheeks, but not once did he threaten that area and he began to tease me, softly rubbing my nipples. It was my most erogenous zone, he may as well have switched on the light to my body. They hardened instantly and I felt a tingle in my lower regions.
“Let me go down on you, Brooker, I want to taste you, make you scream,” he said, seductively. Fuck he was sexy, hadn’t I mentioned that?
I turned to face him. “I haven’t showered.”
“I don’t care,” he said.
I frowned and my libido went out the window. I didn’t want to lose The Russian over this and I didn’t want him to think me a prude, but I just had a psychological thing about it ... I had a few hang-ups thanks to my last two boyfriends. I didn’t want The Russian going down there unless I was fresh from the shower – I wanted it to be clean and sweet. I know it was over the top when I’d go down on him salty or sweaty in a heartbeat, but I had my issues. Then, I saw my opportunity to sound sexy and not too weird.
“I’m saving it,” I said, “for later.”
“Later when?” he frowned, pausing on my nipple stimulation to study me again.
I sighed and bit my lip with the intention of adding some drama and suspense to it. I was not manipulating him like Leesa, I was just trying to hide one of my phobias for as long as I could –well that was what I was telling myself.
