What. The. Fuck.

What the fuck am I doing?

Whatever I’m doing. I cannot stop.

I suck harder on his finger, and he slides another one in. His hand squeezes the thick flesh of my upper thigh, and I spread my legs, basically begging him to go higher up.

A low growl escapes him, and I put my hand on his bare chest, on his cross tattoo. He never did close his shirt back up. I run my hand down, feeling the cut outline of his rock-hard abs. I could work my hand down his pants from here, though his belt might make it a tight fit.

Suddenly he pulls his fingers out of my mouth. He locks eyes with me, he’s wild-eyed, but I can see some uneasiness in his gaze.

I don’t really want to talk, so I lick my lips and move my head down, aiming for his crotch.

He grabs me by the shoulders and pulls me back up to face him. “Princess,” he says. “As much as I like where this is going–”

“Don’t talk,” I say. “Just–”

“I like talking,” he says, keeping me held upright. “You’re not totally smashed, are you?”

I roll my eyes at him. “Of course not. I drank just the right amount. What’s the matter?”

“I just want to make sure it was my charm alone that got you to thaw.”

I laugh. “Thaw? You think I’m an ice princess now?”

He grins. “Not now, but you were…”

I tug at his belt. “Please, stop talking. We’ve talked enough.”

Part of me is worried that if we talk too much, I’ll chicken out. I told myself I wouldn’t do anything ridiculously stupid tonight, but here I am. I want to just do it–to feel it–I can think or talk about it later. The indefinite “later” that exists when you procrastinate something you really don’t want to do, the “later” you convince yourself will never actually arrive or happen.

I get his belt undone and pull it through the loops. I put a hand on his abs, with my thumb going down onto his trousers. I rub my thumb back and forth, searching for his hardness. My thumb grazes across its telltale warmth and mass. He shifts his body, adjusting himself as he lets out a low groan. I slide my thumb gently across his manhood through the thin material of his pants, and I feel his cock shift and grow.

I reach for the button, and I undo it. I slowly pull the zipper down, exposing his boxers. His dick is rock-hard and pulling his boxers tight against it, I can see the full size of it through the cloth, and my eyes widen in surprise.

“I didn’t think you’d be so big,” I whisper.

“Innocent little princess,” he whispers, his eyes staring down at my fingers running gently across him through the boxers.

I hook my fingers beneath the waistline, and I pull down, freeing him. His beautiful dick pops out and slaps down across his abs, and I drop to my knees and pull at him until he slides toward the edge of the couch. I slide my hand up and down his generous length as I study him from close up. I cup his balls and explore every inch of his manhood

“Fuck, Princess,” he whispers. “Your hand feels so good on me.”

Some small little part of my brain is screaming at me–telling me I’m being a complete idiot. It’s urging me to stop, to tell him I made a mistake and to get the hell out of his house. Then, a less responsible part of my brain starts shouting over it, saying that I’ve already got his cock in my hand, so even if I stopped now it would still be totally awkward every time I ever saw Luca again...so why not just finish things? I’ve passed the point where it would make sense to stop. Hell, if I stopped now, it would be even more awkward going forward than if I just went ahead and fucked him outright. He’d wonder if he did something wrong, and knowing Luca, he’d probably try even harder to close the deal with me.

If I just fuck him now, in all likelihood he’ll consider me “conquered,” or whatever alpha-male types like him think about situations like this. He’ll probably be worried I’ll get clingy, or something like that, and if anything he’ll avoid me.

So yeah, fucking him is the only way to get myself out of this with any kind of grace or dignity.

Or so I tell myself.

I’m stroking him up and down, but then his hand reaches across my hair, clutches the back of my head, and presses me down onto him.

I open wide, eager to taste him.

I lock my lips onto his veiny shaft, and I suck for all I’m worth. I swirl my tongue around like a tornado, going from 0 to 10 in under a second. He always calls me Princess, and he thinks I’m some sheltered, innocent girl. Sheltered by my over-imposing father, and then sheltered by my self-imposed exile from the family. I’ll show him that I can be aggressive, that I can go for the throat, so to speak.

He lets out what sounds like a very surprised grunt, and he bucks his hips, pressing his cock up deeper into my mouth. I bob my head up and down, fast and without mercy, never letting off the suction.

“Fuck, Bella,” he shouts. I look up and see him throwing his head back. “Ahh, fuck!”

Is he going to cum? This fast? Or–

I feel his hands on my shoulder, and then he pulls me off him. His cock leaves my mouth with a wet pop sound, and then the next thing I know he’s standing up beside me, his cock hard, and wearing nothing but his fully unbuttoned shirt.

Just as I look at him, wondering why he stopped me, he slaps me so hard on the ass it stings.

I yelp in pain and reflexively jump toward the couch, and that’s when he drives his forearm into my back and shoves me forward.

I break my fall with my hands on the back of the couch, leaning forward. He slaps my ass again, but this time the pain feels good–even if it does hurt–and I clench up and dig my hands into the back of the couch. If the couch weren’t pressed up against the wall, I might just have tipped it over.

Then he grabs me around the thighs, and he hikes my dress up past my waist. I feel the brief cold as my whole lower body is exposed, my thong barely offering any defense.

I realize I’m bent over with my ass sticking out, and Luca Gallo is right behind me. I look back at him, feeling my cheeks burn red as I see him staring at my ass. I watch as he hooks his fingers under the thin string of my thong, and pulls it down until it falls to my feet.

Then he drops to his knees, and as if he were getting back at me for my intense blowjob, he buries himself right between my legs.

I hadn’t even had time to realize just how wet I was. I was feeling everything so intensely–and everything was moving so damn fast–that I wasn’t really conscious of just how soaking wet I was. But his lips and tongue pressing between my legs makes me suddenly aware of what has been going on between my legs since we kissed. I’m burning hot and dripping wet, painfully so, and Luca’s tongue running across my most sensitive parts is exactly the cure I need.

I spread my legs, and his tongue presses against my clit. My heart burns in my chest, and my blood pumps through my veins like warm sunshine on a summer day.

“Luca,” I shout. “God, Luca.”

I gasp, and drool leaks down the corner of my mouth. My body trembles, and I reach up to free one of my breasts from my dress. I squeeze the thick flesh until I reach my nipple, which I pinch as hard as I can bare.

When guys go down on me–which doesn’t happen often–I usually like them to be more gentle, to build it up slowly. But whatever is between Luca Gallo and me has been building up slowly for years, since he first flirted with me as a boy. His tongue flicking rapidly and expertly across my clit, and the way he sucks up my juices, is exactly what I want–and need–right now.

My hips start to gyrate, and I hear him laugh as he grips my thighs with both hands. He buries himself between my legs, his tongue sliding in and out of my soaked hole to offer my clit a brief moment of mercy, before he re-dedicates his full attention to the over-sensitive nub.

Then, just as fast and suddenly as he started, the orgasm rocks across me. My flesh jiggles and trembles as I anchor my hands to the couch. My toes curl, and my breasts heave. I clench my thighs as I hear him slurping up my release, and my clit burns red hot, shooting tendrils of ecstasy up into me, piercing through my brain, obliterating the last of that small and pathetic little voice in my head that was trying to tell me to stop before I regretted it. I hear myself screaming, I think it’s words that I’m screaming, but the part of my brain that can understand them is shut off–to make more room for the pure pleasure coursing through me.

I fall–collapse–onto the couch, my body still twitching and trembling. I use the last of my energy to roll onto my back and look up at him. My panties are still hanging around one of my ankles, and I can see just how wet I was even before he graced me with his lips and tongue. I look up at him, seeing his cock still hard as iron.

In the soft light, and with the warmth of the most perfect climax still pumping through me and filling me, he looks perfect. I know who and what he is, but for right now, he’s perfect. He’s who and what I need, and even if that won’t be true tomorrow, it’s true now. And now is all that matters.

“A princess shouldn’t fuck on the couch,” Luca whispers.

His cock throbs, bobbing up and down, as if it were a separate entity from him, a being with its own mind and thoughts and needs.

“Who says,” I whisper. “That we’re going to fuck tonight?”

“You did,” he said. “When you screamed ‘Fuck me, Luca, fuck me and fill me up!’”

“I said that?” I ask.

He laughs and grabs my hand, pulling me up. He spins me around until my back is pressed up against him. His thick cock presses between my ass cheeks, and I feel his solid torso against me through the thin dress. He runs a hand up my sides, and he finds my exposed breast. He squeezes, until my eyes roll back into my head.

“You did say it,” he says. “You don’t remember?”

“I…” I trail off. I must have said it. It sounds like exactly what I want, but I’m just surprised I said it.

“You’re trying to play coy,” he says, his fingers finding my nipple, squeezing and twisting until I nearly purr. “Pretending like you could possibly finish the night without me having been inside you.”

“Did you know it would end like this tonight?” I ask.

He laughs, his lips pressing gently against my ear. I feel the warm wetness of his tongue on my lobe. Then his voice whispers, silky smooth, “I thought it would take more than one date, Princess, but don’t take that the wrong way...”

I nearly turn around and slap him, but he sounds genuine, so I wait and hear him out. Besides, his fingers feel too good on my nipple, and his cock pressed warm against my ass all feels too good for me to actually want to turn around.

“I’m not saying you’re easy,” he says, laughing, “Really, I’m not. Hell, it took me 20 years to get you to go to dinner with me.”

“Shouldn’t a guy like you,” I say, my voice lower and softer than his. He’s so close to me, there’s no need to raise my voice above a gentle whisper. “Shouldn’t you always be confident, or claim confidence, even when you’re not? Just tell me you knew you’d get me into bed tonight. Say you had no doubt in your mind?”

He kisses across my neck. I lean my head back to give him more surface area to kiss across.

“Mm,” he says. “Maybe. Normally I would, but it feels wrong to lie to you, Bella. Maybe I even looked forward to it? The chase. It took twenty years to get you to go to dinner with me, so maybe I was even relishing the thought of slowly lowering your defenses over a series of dates…”

“Sorry,” I say. “To disappoint you then.”

I reach back, finding his cock, and I squeeze it. I arch my back to create space between us, then I bend forward over the couch again, just like before, and I pull him by the dick toward my soaking wetness.

“Here?” he asks.

“Here,” I say. “At least the first time. I told you, Luca, I’m not a princess.”

I reach down and pull the damn dress off. I throw it down onto the couch, give him a teasing look over my shoulder, and I bend back over, waiting for him to fuck me.

He squeezes the flesh of my thighs, and then I feel his thick mass slide across my wet folds. He rubs me from the outside like that, teasing and tempting me. I feel my clit swelling again, the wetness within me building up with unbearable pressure.

I feel him enter me. There’s a strong pressure, and pain, and then it feels like he’s splitting me apart. I dig my nails into the couch, but then the warmth of him fills me deeper. I feel his girth swell inside me, and the sensation of being filled up by him makes the pain melt away.

He presses in deeper, and I push against him, eager to have him fully inside me–as deep as he can go.

I clench against his cock, my wetness enveloping him. He slides smooth and wonderfully into me, burying himself inside me, until his balls press against my skin.

“It’s so tight,” he says. “God, you’re tight.”

“I’m not a virgin,” I hiss back at him.

He laughs.

Then I realize I didn’t even think about a condom. I’m usually very careful...but–

He slides back, and his cock moves against every sensitive square inch of my insides. I gasp, and before I can even prepare myself mentally, he plunges back inside me. He slaps hard against me, shaking my whole body forward.

Then he pulls back and pounds back in. I laugh from the pure sensation of it, and he starts to fuck me hard and deep.

My breasts sway as he moves in and out. His strong hands grip my ass, and at times it even starts to feel like he’s using the strength of his hands and arms to pull me back and forth on his cock as he drives his hips, to increase the sensation.

I move to help him, wanting to feel it all as much as him. We move against each other as if in total desperation and frustration, as if we were both frustrated that the laws of physics didn’t allow us to get even closer, to move with even greater friction, to be even closer together.

“Ahhh,” he grunts. “Fuck!”

I know what that tone of voice means, and in that moment of oblivion, in this moment that I have built up to–shutting down every logical part of my brain piece by piece–I’m fucking glad that we skipped the condom, because it would feel like a damn travesty to have some artificial thing between the two of us, ruining the true moment we join together.

My pussy clenches him tight, milking him. I feel his girth expand inside me as the orgasm jolts across my body, more intense even than when he went down on me.

I nearly lose my grip on the couch–oh, I do–I fall face first down into the couch, but he holds my ass up with his hands, and his cock drives deep in and out of me even as my upper body hangs limp. I can feel the warmth of him filling me up, and I claw my way back up onto the couch. He shoves me forward until I’m face down on the couch, drooling as I moan. He falls on top of me and plunges so deep inside me that I think we’ll never be able to separate from each other.

His seed pumps into me, and my whole body shudders in acceptance. In writhing ecstasy.

“Fuckkkkkk,” he grunts. His cock is twitching inside me still, but he’s spent himself. He just lies on top of me, using his forearms to keep the full weight of himself from crushing me, but I still get to feel his solid abs glistening with sweat pressed against the curving slope of my ass.

“Fuck,” I say, in total agreement.

I fear that my brain is going to suddenly reactivate and instantly regret what happened, ruining the moment for me, but instead I just say, “As soon as you’re ready again, we’ll do it on the bed.”