Carter
Her tongue tastes like strawberry fucking ice cream. Her mouth is so sweet and soft and ripe that I can’t help but suck her lower lip between mine and bite down on it with my sharp, hungry teeth.
Part of me expects her to pull away when I do it. Instead, she only whimpers and kisses me harder, her fingers curling tight around the collar of my shirt as she pulls me in for more.
It’s all the prompting I need. I’ve been a master of restraint around women for longer than I’d like to admit, but when it comes to June, things are different. That contract might yet be unsigned, but I already feel like June is mine.
Mine to have. Mine to kiss.
Mine to do with whatever the fuck I want to.
Mine.
And, in the moment—most importantly—she feels like she’s mine to undress.
I let my fingers curl around her collar in the same way—but instead of pulling her blouse off, I rip it apart. Her buttons fly, and her breasts tumble out, heavy and barely contained by her bra.
They’re the breasts that will feed my children someday, I realize. June might not have accepted that yet, but I know for a fact that it’s true.
Until I’m able to put a baby in her, I’ll just have to sample them myself.
My mouth finds one and my hand the other. They’re the perfect size, fitting nicely into my hand, only spilling out a little on either side.
Instead of bringing my mouth over her tits like a suction cup, I let my tongue twirl around her nipple. It’s small, it’s pink, and it tastes fucking delicious.
My teeth join my tongue and bite onto the small rosebud extrusion on the perfect breast. Instead of complaining, pulling away, or voicing her objection, June presses her hips harder into me. Her hands are entwined behind my neck and pulling me closer.
I’m surprised by her passion. Not that long ago, she seemed hell-bent on maintaining her distance. It’s as if a dam of self-control has burst open.
As I bite a bit harder on her nipple, a tiny moan escapes her lips.
I lift my head to catch her eye. She’s not looking directly at me, but a little to my left.
“You okay, babe?”
It takes her a while to focus on me. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was intoxicated with some kind of sedative, a drug that has rendered her unable to respond or to voice her objection.
Her lips curl up a tiny bit.
“Better than okay,” she whispers, tracing the outline of my lip with her finger. The gesture is laden with unspoken passion.
My cock is rock hard already. It’s trying to burst through the material of my pants.
With a grin, I go back to smothering her body in kisses. First her right nipple, then her left, and then I move down toward her belly button.
Here, I find she’s still wearing her skirt. Tempting as it is to rip it off her, I hook my index finger into the waistband and pull it slowly down toward her feet.
Sensing my intention, she wiggles her bottom side to side and lifts it off at just the right time so it glides out from under her.
My eyes zero in on her pussy. A tiny cream-colored slip is covering her precious honey pot. I’m drawn to it with every part of my being.
With her skirt out of the way, I start kissing her just above the waistband of her slip. Her hips thrust upwards a little to meet me. I chuckle.
“Impatient are we?”
“Carter, please,” she’s panting.
I glance up and see that her breathing is short and shallow.
“I need you. Now.”
But I don’t want to fucking rush this. This is so very different for me. And then again, do I actually really want to fuck her? There’s the tiny detail of an unsigned baby contract.
I mean, if I’m going to fuck her, she’ll be pregnant for sure. With an unsigned contract it’s a risk.
A risk not worth taking.
By now, she’s bucking like a wild unbroken mare, tempting me into action. I oblige and rip her panties off.
Now her pussy lies exposed in front of me. I can see how wet she is already. The juices are practically dripping from her.
My hand slowly moves over her mound and down toward her clit. I push against it and leave my fingers there.
More bucking from the bronco. I’m letting my imagination run wild about the many ways I can tame her. There are so many methods I could use to tame a wild mare like this one.
Her movement displaces my hand. I think the time has come to enter her. Slowly, my index finger pushes into her.
At first, I’m a bit taken aback. It does not slide in all the way. There’s some kind of restriction. A blockage.
I frown.
Gently, I try again, only to be met with the same result.
The realization slowly dawns.
My finger comes out, and I slide back up to be eye level with June.
Her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes are alight with passion.
“June,” I speak softly. I don’t want to frighten her. She needs to know it’s okay. “Are you still a virgin?”
She cringes at my question and brings her hands up to hide her face. Her body is now perfectly still.
“June,” I lean into her face. I kiss her on the forehead between her fingers. “It’s okay, June. There’s nothing to be ashamed of—I just want to know.”
If I’d known, I would have…
What would I have done anyway?
Not picked her, or not barged into the room to comfort her?
Competing, confusing notions are swirling around my head.
What the fuck had this fiancé of hers been doing all this time with her? Had he just held her hand? Why had he fucked some other girl when he had this beautiful cherry in front of him, a fruit so exquisite and ripe for the picking?
“Come on,” I coax her, as her fingers still hide her face. “Let me see your gorgeous eyes.”
Slowly, she lets her fingers glide down her face. Tears roll down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” she sobs, and I kiss away those salty tears.
“No need to be sorry,” I reassure her and keep smothering her in kisses.
To make sure she’s totally at ease, my right hand finds her breast and starts massaging and kneading. Eventually, she relaxes.
“I—” she starts before her voice stops suddenly. This time, it’s from a ripple of pleasure passing through her. “I didn’t know how to say…it seemed…not sure…”
She’s unable to form a coherent sentence. But that’s okay. I know what she’s trying to say.
I fucking understand.
In hindsight, I should’ve made it one of the questions of the interview, I guess.
“So, tell me June, are you a virgin, or have you fucked someone before today?”
“Mm, no.” June’s voice is tentative, hesitant, yet honest.
“But...” Her voice is still a little shaky. “I’m ready. I’m ready for you.”
Suddenly, she looks even smaller to me than before. Small and vulnerable.
“Mmm,” I murmur and let my hand move toward her pussy.
This time, instead of entering her with my finger, I simply rub against her clit. It’s as if I’ve sent tiny electric shock waves through her body. The merest touch of her clit has her arch her back and thrust her pelvis upward.
She’s electrified.
My own cock is vibrating with anticipation. I ignore it and keep my attention on her clit.
Gently, I let my finger draw small circles over it and then lightly brush backwards and forwards as if I was painter trying to make sure a particularly stubborn spot gets a good coating of paint.
Her body is quivering and tensing. I can tell she’s never experienced anything like this.
This ex-fiancé of hers must have been a total dope. I don’t know how he could hang around June for longer than a day without wanting to fuck her. I’ve only been with her for half a day, and I’m finding it incredibly difficult to exercise restraint.
With her increasing moaning and her fingers digging into my back, I know she’s about to have her first orgasm.
To make sure she gets as much pleasure out of this as possible, I slow my rubbing down gradually—almost to a stop—before I move back in the other direction increasing rhythm and tempo.
This is enough to tip her over the edge and send her on a joy ride of gigantic proportions. Her body tightens, shakes, and then relaxes again.
Looking at her face, I see her cheeks are flushed and her eyes have a faraway look in them.
“What…you…”
In reply to her incomplete sentence, my cock points straight up, and I feel her fingers gently touch it.
Now it’s my turn to be engulfed in electric shockwaves.
This is going to be one of the hardest things I’m going to have to fucking do tonight: not fuck her.
Instead of a reply, I roll on top of her. Nothing wrong with letting my cock at least touch her wet pussy.
I’m confident I can pull away before I do anything stupid.
At least, I think I can.