We’re back at his apartment and in his room in no time.
Heat rushes through me like a line of fire. His lips are on mine. The kiss is sloppy but holds passion that both terrifies and excites me. His hands grip me from my thighs to my breasts. I lean away as he bends down and carries the hem of my still-unzipped dress up and yanks it off until I am bare in my white lacy underwear.
I didn’t see this coming, but I guess a part of me predicted this. As for why I own these, when I would never ever think about wearing them before college, Jaimie forced me to buy me a whole drawer full of slinky things like this. But, by the way he’s looking at me right now, I’m glad she did.
“Holy fuck,” he curses and tugs at his bottom lip as his eyes grow darker and darker until they are nothing but vacuums, sucking me up until I am nothing but air in his presence. “Since when…this is…fuck, princesa.” He splutters for a sentence but ends up shrugging and picking me up by the back of my thighs and carrying me to the bed.
“Gr-ey!” I snort through his name, laughter filling me until my back meets the soft comforter. He begins unbuttoning his shirt when he mutters, “Fuck it,” and rips the entire thing off. Buttons fly around the room; one even lands on my chest. He laughs so hard his eyes close. I roll my eyes and flick it off, listening to it bounce across the hardwood floor before settling down.
I stare up at him, my head tilted, a small smile on my face, as I admire the beautiful boy above me. His eyes hold a certain shine of light that portrays his childish side that is rare, but when it comes out, I have to stand back and watch him in all his glory.
Thick veins crawl up his slightly hairy arms; long and short and in between scars scatter his chest, ribs, right hipbone—they display his rougher side. The side that is hot-headed and cruel, when he wants to be, but without this torturous side, there wouldn’t be Grey.
And I wouldn’t have a part of him that I adore without the backlashes his deeper side brings out, because I want him. Every single centimeter of him—lean, scarred, and mine.
“What are you thinking about down there?” His voice is low as he brushes his hair back. Those little creatures called dimples pop out, and I swear I feel everything click into place.
“How much I want you,” I tell him and lean up and pull him into my embrace, clashing his lips onto mine. “And.” I kiss his right dimple. “How much.” Then the left. “I want to.” And his chin. “Show you.” His jawline, then down and down, with each kiss that sends a buzz of pleasure through me from touching his lukewarm skin, curved with muscles and hard, steep lines, until I reach the waistband of his dress pants.
My mouth grazes the light hair trailing down his abdomen, and I accidentally let out a partial tickle-induced giggle. A hard thing presses against my throat, and I gasp before looking up at him with raised eyebrows.
He just shrugs with a laid-back expression. “Don’t giggle all innocent-like if you don’t want to get poked by the snake.”
“You are so cocky,” I say with a laugh and shake my head.
“You’re about to see a cock.” He snorts to himself, and I roll my eyes but continue.
I unbutton, unzip, and drag his pants down his toned legs. I grip the band of his black boxers and pause for a second to get my bearings.
I have to think for a little bit. I, Olivia Reneé Westerfield, am about to see a penis for the first time in my life. Not one drawn in health textbooks. This is real and covered by thin fabric. And I am about to perform…things to it. Sexual things.
God, I sound like such a child. Can I even do this if I’m thinking like a freaking thirteen year old who just began to go through puberty?
“Are you sure about this? If you don’t want to—”
“I want to,” I cut him off and shrug, fiddling with the stretchy band. “You’ve, you know…w-went down on me.” I look up at him and ask, “How did that…how did you…did you enjoy it?”
Oh, yes, ask trivial questions when you’re about to go down on a guy. Please, do ask about his day. Maybe even the weather, for Christ’s sake!
“Well, your pussy tastes kind of really fucking amazing, and—”
I reach up and press a finger to his lips, my cheeks swelling with heat. “Just—shut up. I want to do this, and I am going to!” I nod my head affirmatively, tug at the band, and prep myself, like I did before debating or taking a test. And like those activities—I am going to ace this.
“Okay, maybe just not like that, but—”
I pull his boxers down his legs, cutting him off.
“Oh, wow…” I am frightened and immensely intimidated by his monstrous length. Why did I say monstrous? Now I’m picturing an actual monster in my hand. Just add spiky teeth, thick fur, and bam—big ol’ Sasquatch that I have to put in my mouth.
“Don’t be scared, Princess. If you don’t think you can handle it—”
I cut off his obvious egotistical peer pressure. “I can do it. I’m Olivia Westerfield. Valedictorian of her high school class. If I can master five different languages, I can do this.”
He laughs under his breath and says, “Go ahead then, Ms. Valedictorian. Maybe you’ll become vale-dick-torian after this.” He bursts into laughter that makes me blush.
I lean forward and lick the tip.
He stops laughing, and his thing twitches.
I smile up at him, and he glares at me. I laugh before doing it again. This time he reaches down and tilts my chin so that I’m facing him. My heart skips a tremendous beat by the intensity dancing in those dark eyes of his.
“First rule of cock sucking: Do not tease, or I will tease, and then we’ll just be teasing messes. Trust me, Princess, you don’t want that.”
My smile falters for just a second before I narrow my eyes and inch toward his sprung member.
His eyes widen, and he holds up a warning finger. “Don’t you do it.”
I raise my eyebrows and inch even closer.
“Don’t. Do. I—ah shit!” he cries out when I stick my tongue out and swipe it up the head. “That’s it!” He reaches down and picks me up, slamming me on the bed. I laugh and kick my feet at him, which he forces behind his back. His eyes glimmer, and he snorts in laughter. “I told you not to do it, and you did anyway.”
“Shut up, you wimp,” I say in a breathless voice and push against his shoulders. He lets me push him back and straddle his lap. I wiggle down, partially accidentally rubbing against his member. Whoa, that felt good. I gasp and force out a strained hum; he raises a condescending eyebrow, and I slap his thigh.
He rolls his eyes in the cutest way, and I bite back a laugh, and stand off the bed and kneel. He shuffles down a bit, and I clamp my hands around his thighs and lean forward.
“Just put your mouth around it. Then take as much of it as you can and use your hand for the rest you can’t get. You should pick up your own flow and pace while you’re, you know, doing it,” he explains, and I nod the entire time. “Just don’t squeeze too hard. If you do, well, our babies are just out of the question.”
“Oh, shut up.” I blush and he smiles at me. “Otherwise, I’ve got it,” I tell him and reluctantly take him in my palm.
“Oh, and no teeth. Please, God, no teeth.” He shudders at the mere thought of it. I half smile at him and look down at the long, long member in my hand.
Feeling my heart beat out of my chest, I lean forward and slowly drag my tongue up his length. He curses, and I do the same thing again. And again. And again. Then I swirl my tongue in circles around the tip of him. I widen my eyes and nearly choke when I feel a thick, warm substance on my tongue. Pre-cum. You’ve learned about this in, like, the sixth grade, Liv. Calm down. Don’t freak out. I listen to myself and use, mostly, my mouth and lick up the creamy substance, swallowing.
I wrap my hand around the thick base and pump up and down, receiving a string of curses. I watch him from underneath my eyelashes as I slowly pump my head up and down, taking the most of him until I can’t anymore. Time seems to pass as I curve my hand around and around, carefully retracting my teeth just enough that my jaw doesn’t click, and I’m stuck looking like I failed at giving something as simple as a blow-job. Wait, why do they call it a blow-job when you suck? Hmmm…
“Holy shit, Liv,” he groans, snapping me out of my silly thoughts. “F-fuck, if you keep looking at me like that, all innocent-like and shit, I will bust right now. And that would not be good for my kick-ass reputation.”
Really? I didn’t know I could make him do that so quickly, nonetheless at all. I smile and bat my eyelashes just to mess with him. Partially true to his word, his hips jut forward, and he casts me an I told you look. I look away shyly and continue sucking and rubbing him.
“Just like that, baby. Just like—oh, fuck!—like that, princesa.” His head draws back, and he curses incoherent curses, and I watch him moan, satisfied by the sexy sight of him. Sweat sprinkling over his tanned skin. Hair wild and messy. And eyes screwed shut. And it’s because of me.
My head goes up and down repeatedly until I’m doing nothing but sliding my tongue against him. He moans and groans and even curses my name. He rubs his hands through my hair and massages my scalp, making me giggle and slightly choke.
“That’s it,” he says, his breath ragged and his fingers hard. “I’m a fucking goner.” He sits up and warns me, “If you don’t want me unloading in your mouth, back away.”
A part of me says, “Hell no!” but I look at him through my lashes again, and something behind his eyes snap; I feel him clam up. He pulls me forward until I feel every single part of his member against my mouth, until I am red in the face, and a warm, creamy, salty, string of substance shoots down my throat. I almost choke, but I pull back and keep sucking until there is nothing. I lean forward and lick him up and smile brightly at him.
“How was it?” I ask shyly.
“The best head I’ve ever gotten. And considering the girls I’ve been with, that is like saying the most, ever, ever.” He is rambling and letting out airy laughs. It makes me smile from ear to ear and feel proud of myself. Told you I’d ace it.
He looks at me, panting like he just ran the 5k marathon, and curls a finger at me. “Now you.”
“You don’t have to,” I say and wipe at my mouth. I make a disgusted face. He chuckles and tosses his shirt at me. I show him my middle finger, and he winks at me. I let out a sigh and wipe my mouth and tongue with the damp shirt. I fall onto my knees on the bed, and he sits up and unclips my bra.
“You really do—don’t—fuck what I said. Keep doing that.” I lose my track of words as he attaches his lips to my right breast and sucks and swirls his magnificent tongue around the hardened, pebble-like nipple. The amount of pleasure that runs through me by him doing this simple action is indescribable.
“That’s what I thought,” he whispers, looking at me through his own eyelashes.
I smile and lean down to peck his lips. He smiles, and I mirror it. And then I kiss him again, longer this time until he falls back, pulling me with him. My chest nearly explodes at the fact that he is tasting himself and doesn’t seem put off. Not one bit. I arch my back and kiss one of his high cheekbones while he reaches between us and tugs my underwear down. I reach down too and help him. I sit up and kick it off, falling back onto his chest. Literally.
“Ow,” I say around a laugh, and he chuckles.
“You just took off your chastity belt, are you—” He raises his eyebrows.
I bite onto my lower lip and examine the way a silver speck dances in his eyes. “No, no—not yet. But I felt like taking them off, ’cause you’re naked, and that’d just be mean to not be too.” I make a face and he rolls his eyes briefly before leaning down and craning his neck to peck my lips. We catch each other’s eyes and stare. I lean up and kiss a bit longer. He smiles against my lips and pulls me up.
I straddle his hips and moan, my soaking sex rubbing against his rock-hard tip. I could just gently glide down on him and lose my virginity to this man I have just learned to trust. And I mean really trust. But something is telling me not yet. Not right now, even though the time is perfect. I have never felt so connected with him. So comfortable…but not…now. Sometime in the future, yes, but not now.
I fall back on the bed and stare at him through my lashes. “Make me feel good…please.”
“As long as you said please,” he jokes, waving his head side to side.
“Shut up and get in between my legs,” I say, shocking myself and him. I grab him by the shoulders and pull him toward me. He lays against my chest and collides his mouth with mine. Our mouths mingle and our tongues dance, my skin sizzling and his neck glistening with sweat.
“Fuck, you are so damn sexy,” he grumbles, rubbing my sex. I let out a breathy moan and arch my back. His kisses proceed down my earlobe until they turn to deep suction, leaving bruises I don’t have any makeup to cover up. Looks like I’ll be wearing turtleneck sweaters all week. “I just want to—”
“I want to feel you inside me,” I moan, and he cocks his head to the right. “Gotta start small, right, and I’ve seen what I’m going to be working with—” I am cut off abruptly when I feel a long finger plunge into my tight sex. “Grey!”
He chuckles and pecks my skin. “You’re telling me. You’re so fucking tight. Jesus…” He looks down and then back at me with a snort. “I am so going to wreck you.”
“Shut up, Gr-eeey!” I scream out and hit his shoulder when he adds—or at least tries to—another finger. “Fucking hell, Grey.”
“Yep,” he says and nods proudly. “Totally fucking wrecked.”
“From the top,” I say and push his chest until I fall onto his chest, his hand still cupped around my dripping sex. “I don’t trust you on the bottom anymore. Your jokes are ruining the goddamn moment,” I grumble against his skin, then kiss and lick his salty neck.
“My jokes follow me every position I am in, bab—” I reach down and cup his still-aroused dick. His eyes widen, and he wags a finger at me, barely stifling laughter. “Tou-fucking-ché, Westerfield.”
I roll my eyes and smash my lips against his to shut him up. But he can’t shut me up. For the rest of the night, I scream and moan his name, and pretty soon afterward, he is doing the same with me. There comes a point in time when neither of us can properly speak, let alone shout, resorting to grumbles and incoherent yelps and murmurs.
How have I fallen so goddamn hard for this boy, and how do I escape this hole of pure emotions that has me screaming his name instead of catching my breath?