The bed springs creak in protest as Matt shifts around. Victoria has never actually gone this far. She's never gone past the point of her own fingers, of something small she found sitting around her room at night.
Fear and excitement mingle in her chest. She tries to smile up at Matt, but the action is stilted, yet he doesn't seem to notice. A dark shadow has fallen over his face, as if his mind is suddenly far away, like he's thinking about something completely different from the present.
Matt's hand grabs Victoria's skirt and pushes it up even farther, until he can slip under it. Fingers grab and grope at her undergarment; the other hand stays on her shoulders. He's lying on the bed next to her, more kneeling than anything else. A finger strokes over Victoria's silver, panty clad pussy, drawing forth a quiet sort of moan.
He’s not hurried, which is strange because Victoria always imagined that picking a stranger up from the bar would be a rushed affair. At the same time, it's lacking the romance that has always been present in her dreams of losing her virginity.
This is just something completely different, something completely amazing.
Matt's motions are slow and languid. He slips one finger under the band of her panties, then a second. They're larger than Victoria's own. She quivers and shakes beneath his touch, senseless mewls and pleas falling from her mouth.
He stops at three.
The stretch is ridiculous, insane, yet perfect.
But then Matt says, “Deep breath now, honey,” and he starts trying to wedge a fourth finger into her pussy, too. The air is muggy. It curls in her chest, clings to the inside of her lungs. It's a struggle to breathe, to think. Pain mingles with pleasure and Matt says it again. “Come on, Tori. A pretty girl like you, I've bet you had more jammed in this pretty cunt.”
She opens her mouth to say something but is cut off by a fourth finger pressing harder against the outside. Her eyes flutter because this is most certainly new. Matt moves the three fingers inside Victoria, shifts them about, and presses them even tighter together.
His pinkie finger presses with a little more force. Victoria's muscles protest; her stomach flutters. She lets her head drop backwards, just as Matt's fingertip breaches her.
“Fuck,” he says, spitting out the word. Pain shoots along Victoria's spine, overwhelming the pleasure, just for a moment. “Fucking shit. Is that blood?”
Victoria gives a warbling sort of moan. Her hands grab at Matt's wrist, trying desperately to hold him there. “G-go on,” she says. “It's fine.”
“Are you a fucking virgin?”
The words don't want to come. Victoria doesn't want this to stop. But at the same time, it's actually sort of a lot. She nods anyway. The word falls from her lips like water from the faucet. “Yeah. Yeah, fine, good. Go on.”
Matt goes still. “Fuck. Why the fuck didn't you say anything?”
“Does it matter?” Victoria's voice is a trembling sort of thing. “I don't want…oh, shit, please. Come on, Matt. This doesn't matter. This doesn't matter!”
“It does matter!”
Victoria shakes her head. She closes her eyes, too, because the world around her is starting to blur.
There's no lube. Would he have used lube if she'd said that she was a virgin?
Maybe.
Victoria is having a hard time getting the world to really sync up. Nothing wants to click together. Each breath is harder than the last, and she doesn't know why, just knows that she doesn't want this to stop, that she doesn't want Matt to stop.
“Please,” she moans again.
Finally, finally, Matt does. It's pressure and heat and a constant resistance, and then it's not; it's just full.
That's the only thing that passes through Victoria's mind.
Full and hot and lovely and horrible.
She moans, and Matt takes that, rightfully so, as a cue to start moving. He's good with his hands, and the strange position does nothing to change that. It's only a matter of minutes before Victoria's teetering on that familiar edge.
Up until now, she's only ever gotten here on her own. Fingers beneath silken sheets, fingers that feel nothing like this.
But then Matt's pulling his hand away, and nothing but emptiness takes its place. Victoria opens her eyes, just a little bit. “Matt?”
His face is flushed with excitement. Victoria can feel his cock pressing against the side of her thigh. He’s grinning, a smug flash of teeth and curled lips. “Yeah?”
“You, uh...” Victoria trails off, waiting.
He waits, too. Then, finally, he gives her the slightest smile. “I'm just waiting on you, miss virgin. Isn't there something that you want to tell me?”
The seemingly off-topic question throws Victoria for a loop. She's tired and horny, and her mind isn't working as quickly as it usually does. The alcohol was never enough to get her flat-out drunk, but it mingles with the exhaustion, excitement, and fear until it's become a completely new thing all its own.
She feels distant. It's like her mind and her body aren't in sync any longer. “What?”
“There's something you want to tell me. Come on, pretty thing. I'm all ears.”
“I don't know what you're talking about.
“Sure you do,” says Matt. “You're blushing. Come on, you can say it.”
Say it?
Victoria blinks.
Does he want her to say something specific?
“Just once,” says Matt, almost beseechingly. Already, the smile is starting to slip off his face. He's excited and horny, biting at the bit to stop himself from just rolling her over and fucking her right then and there.
Victoria can tell. It's a look in his eyes, something almost feral.
Matt demands, “Say it once, and we can move on. Otherwise, I'm out. I don't mess around with virgins.”
That seems like a strange rule. Distantly, Victoria wonders why. But then Matt's hand shifts, fingers stroking along the length of her already abused clit, and the thought vanishes.
“Tell me what you want,” insists Matt. He catches the hood of Victoria's clit between his fingers and gives it a sharp pinch. She squeals in response, body jerking against the, strangely erotic touch. “I want to hear it.”
Victoria's blushing for an entirely new reason, now. She presses her face against the side of Matt's neck, trying to hide her heated skin. “Oh. Okay, yeah. I guess that I do have something to say. Do you, do I really need to?”
Matt's hand pulls away entirely now. He shifts, pushing himself up onto his knees. Firm hands guide Victoria to do the same, and then they twist her around until she's facing the headboard and not her biker boy. “Say it.”
“I wished you would fuck me,” says Victoria, the words coming easier than she thinks they will. “I saw you at the bar earlier tonight, and that's all I could think; I hoped we would come back to your place, and you'd pin me to this bed and fuck me.”
There's a beat of silence. Victoria's words sink in a moment too late—pin me to this bed—and she's already floundering for a way to change that around, make it seem a little bit less. There's no chance, though, because suddenly it's not Matt's fingers pushing into her cunt but his dick. A hand settles between her shoulders, pushing her down.
The touch is unrelenting. The feel of his cock pushing into her is overwhelming. She hits the mattress, hard, arms splayed out and face against the dark blue comforter. In a matter of seconds, a hand has curled into her hair and pushed down, preventing her from shifting even a little bit.
Matt drapes himself over her back, his body a warm and unforgettable presence, and there's no time at all between start and go. It's just a constant pounding motion. Each buck of his hips sends him farther inside Victoria, presses her harder against the mattress. Thighs slap against thighs.
“Fuck, you're a hot piece of ass.” He might not make much noise in comparison to the mewling mess of a woman under him, but Matt is known for a mouth that won’t stop running when he fucks around. “Just listen to you, practically begging for it.”
“I am, I am, please, please, Matt.”
“Please what?” Matt accentuates the last word with a particularly brutal thrust. It feels like he's trying to break her, trying to get so far inside of her that there's never going to be a way to come out.
Victoria loves it.
She loves it, and her body is lost somewhere in ecstasy, working hard at dragging her mind there, too. Victoria's mouth moves against the sheets as she tries to find the right words.
They won't come.
Matt doesn't seem to really mind. He just keeps talking, keeps urging her on, telling her these horrible, awful, and wonderful things.
“Please,” begs Victoria. “Please.”
“Fuck,” pants Matt. “You're so damn wet. I cannot believe no one's ever had this ass, cannot believe no one's ever spread you out like this.”
Victoria mewls in response. She shifts, trying to press back against him but finds there's no way to get any leverage. He is utterly in control here, pinning her down, keeping her exactly where he wants her.
“Say it again,” growls Matt, tongue darting out to draw a line down the side of Victoria's sweat-stained neck. “Tell me what you want.”
“This,” moans Victoria. “This. I want—”
“Say it.”
“I want whatever you want,” blurts Victoria. Her eyes are blurring. Tears run down her face, but they're of the best sort. Ambrosia runs through her veins, and each breath seems tainted with sickly sweet drugs, pushing her ever higher into that cloud of euphoria.
It's hard to breathe and hard to think and hard to recognize that anything exists except for the cock pounding into her.
“That's what I want to hear,” pants Matt. His words are hot and dripping. “You know what I want?”
Victoria blathers into the mattress. Her whole body quakes beneath the man's weight.
“I want to fuck you into dust,” says Matt. “I want to use you until you cannot walk tomorrow, until all you know is my fucking name.”
Victoria is almost afraid of how badly she wants that, too.