American Queen

“Yeah,” Embry said to himself. “That’s it. All mine.”

He slid back inside me again, this time laying his whole body over mine. Our naked chests pressed together, sweaty and slick, our bloody thighs sliding easily past each other’s, and he wrapped his arms tight around me. His face was in my neck, my chin tucked in his shoulder, and all of his weight was on me. It didn’t feel heavy at all, or at least it felt like the right kind of heavy, especially when he began grinding in and out of me with short, rolling thrusts.

And that’s when the deep, deep itch finally flared into true pleasure; the drag of his large helmet against my sensitive front wall, the friction at my clit from the base of his cock, the biological urge to be stretched and filled—all of it winding my body like a clock, whirring tighter and tighter.

“You’re going to come for me, aren’t you?” Embry said in my ear. “You’re going to come on my dick. And when you do, when you’re shuddering underneath me with blood on your thighs, it’s my name you say, got it?”

I was in no place to disagree. All I could feel was the hard male body above me, all I could think about was the hard maleness inside me, and there was no room between our sweaty, eager bodies for Ash. In this moment, it was only Embry, Embry, Embry, and as he pressed down even harder against my clit, I dug my fingernails into his back and held on for dear life as my body finally wound itself so tight that it broke apart.

“Embry,” I chanted, “Embry, Embry,” as my pussy clutched at him, pulsing in tight, hot, painful waves. The thick length inside of me made all the difference, shifting the locus of my pleasure to deep inside my core, and I found myself bucking against him instinctively, trying to drive him deeper into the seizing, clenching heart of my orgasm.

And all the while he was muttering into my neck, words I couldn’t catch but that sounded raw and urgent, and at the same time that he caught my lips in a scorching kiss, he drove himself deeper than ever before and held himself there, grunting into my mouth as he pulsed his own pleasure deep inside me. It went on and on, for both of us, his release so strong that I could feel the throb of his dick as he filled the condom with his orgasm, and I had a surreal moment of regret, wishing that there hadn’t been a condom, wishing that it would have been bare hard flesh buried deep into the soft. That there would have been the uncivilized mingling of my virgin blood with his seed.

Embry lingered a minute more, dropping kisses on my forehead and cheeks and lips as my body gradually stopped quivering, kisses that were as tender as his fucking was rough, and then he circled the condom with his fingers and pulled out. He was gentle and easy with it, but it still stung, and I let out a wounded hiss.

“I’m sorry,” he said distantly, climbing off the bed, and the sudden absence of his warmth and the reservation in his voice made me shiver. I felt extremely vulnerable, like my skin had been peeled away, like my chest had been cracked open and my heart was beating in the open air. My throat tightened, those tears from hours ago threatening to return.

Did I just make a gigantic mistake?

He got rid of the condom, and then came back and stood over me at the edge of the bed in the near-darkness. I had a sudden moment of fear—real, blaring fear—that he was about to ask me if I wanted a cab or an Uber. That he was about to hand me my clothes and wish me a safe ride home. But he didn’t do either of those things. He leaned down and lifted me effortlessly into his arms and carried me into the brightly lit bathroom. I was deposited on the cold granite counter while he turned on the shower, me blinking owlishly in the light, and he stepped in between my legs while he waited for the water to warm up.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” I answered, also quietly.

He looked down at my thighs, where lines of dried blood had crusted into thin smears. There wasn’t that much blood, actually, it had felt like so much more at the time, but seeing it now without the heady sex hormones and in the bright light of a strange hotel bathroom, it seemed so much more barbaric. It looked violent and regrettable, even though it was neither of those things.

Embry ran a long finger up my leg, stopping well short of my pussy. “I’m sorry,” he said, and there was nothing distant about his apology this time. His blue eyes were filled with guilt and his mouth was twisted with a bitter self-recrimination. “I was…I don’t know what I was. You deserved better for your first time than me.”

I caught his hand and brought it to my lips, kissing his knuckles gently. He let out a low exhale and his sleepy cock gave a stiffening jerk.

“It was amazing,” I said. It wasn’t my job to assure him or massage away whatever he was feeling right now, but I did want to be honest about myself and how I felt. “The way I felt when I came—the way it felt to have someone else inside me—I loved it. But I also feel really flayed open right now. Like I want to cry, but I don’t think I’m sad necessarily. Just aware. Or maybe unaware. I don’t know what the right word is. Happy or sad feel too far apart from this.”

He leaned forward, resting his forehead against mine. “It was too rough, Greer. First times are supposed to be tender. Slow.”

I shook my head against his, squeezing his hand. “I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

The truth must have been clear in my voice, because he straightened up and looked at me warily as he helped me wriggle out of the dress that was still bunched around my waist. “You’re a dangerous girl.”