The Virgin

When he judged her wet enough, Griffin grabbed her by the shoulder and brought her to a sitting position on her knees. From the speed of the car, Eleanor could tell they were out on the open road. Good. No sudden stops likely on the highway.

“King?” Griffin asked, and Kingsley tossed Griffin a condom. He opened his pants and rolled it on. He was big definitely, but nothing she couldn’t take and everything she wanted to take. When he was ready, Griffin crooked his finger at her, and Eleanor, eager to obey, straddled his legs facing him. She expected him to enter her immediately but instead he kissed her again almost tenderly.

“I’ve wanted to do this since the day I met you,” he whispered.

“No whispering,” Kingsley said, and Griffin rolled his eyes.

“I wanted it, too,” she said, making sure only Griffin could hear her. The hum of the engine and the tires and the face-to-face position awarded them a modicum of privacy. To show Griffin how much she adored him, how much she’d wanted him, she took his erection firmly in her hand and brought it to the entrance of her body. Griffin gripped her by the hips and lowered her down onto him. She stretched open as she settled onto him, sighing as he penetrated her fully.

“It’s only you and me now.” Griffin mouthed the words and she nodded. As she moved on him slowly, relishing the fullness of him inside her, he unbuttoned her shirt and pulled it off her. It might have landed on the floor. She had a feeling, however, that when Griffin threw it, it had landed in Kingsley’s lap. Or on his face. Her bra came off next, just as slowly, just as sensuously. Griffin lifted and kneaded her breasts in his hands as her head fell back in pleasure.

“I was meant to know you,” Griffin whispered to her. “I don’t know why but I was.”

“Maybe we’ll find out why someday,” she said.

He kissed her on the mouth again and said against her lips, “Maybe this is why.”

Griffin slid his hands from her breasts to her shoulders, from her shoulders to her arms, from her arms to her wrists. He held her arms behind her, forcing her to arch her back.

“Ride me,” he said, and she was happy to oblige. With tight movements of her hips, she drove her hips against Griffin while he kissed and licked her nipples. She smiled in victory when her vagina contracted on him and he gasped from the shock of pleasure. But still he held her wrists in his viselike grip even as she pushed them both closer to coming.

Her body burned with the heat of his body and hers. Her arms ached from being held so tightly. And when she thought she couldn’t take it one more minute, Griffin tossed her onto her back and slammed into her with rough and brutal thrusts that left her gasping. Blood surged through her thighs as she spread them wider for him. Her heart thudded in her chest. She contracted her stomach and tilted her hips until he was as deep inside her as any man could go. Finally she shuddered underneath him, as a fierce and forceful climax shook her to the core. Distantly, she was aware of Griffin’s orgasm that he was pushing into her with his last and roughest thrusts.

It was over, done, and yet Griffin remained inside her.

“Not yet,” he said when she wriggled underneath him in discomfort. He had her pinioned to the seat, impaled against it, and she couldn’t move until he did. His eyes met hers and for a second she thought she saw something more than friendship in them, more than passion. But he blinked and it was gone. Griffin pulled out of her and carefully removed the condom.

Kingsley looked at Søren. Søren looked at Kingsley.

Kingsley held up an eight.

Søren held up a seven.

“Fuck,” Griffin said. “I was hoping for at least one nine.”

“You didn’t stick your landing,” Kingsley said. “Work on your dismount.”

“Can you do better?” Griffin asked, sounding skeptical as he wiped himself off with a tissue and zipped his pants back up. It wouldn’t be easy to fuck her more thoroughly and enjoyably than Griffin had fucked her.

“Of course I can,” Kingsley said. He whistled, beckoning her to him. Eleanor crawled off Griffin’s lap and over to Kingsley’s. She waited, kneeling on the floorboard between Kingsley’s knees. He reached down and tapped her under the chin, a signal that required no other words.

She unzipped his trousers and brought her mouth down onto his erection.

“See?” Kingsley said. “Practice makes perfect.”

While she massaged and licked him with her tongue, he ran his fingers through her hair. He lifted the black mass of it, and she felt the flick of a cane on her back and flinched, a carefully controlled flinch. She knew the rules of such a game. She went down on Kingsley while Søren inflicted pain on her in some way, and at no point was she allowed to pass the pain to Kingsley. In other words...no biting.

Søren flicked her with the cane again—the thin plastic cane that licked her skin like a tongue of fire.

Eleanor forced herself to concentrate on Kingsley’s pleasure and ignored her own pain. It was the perfect torture. A few grunts of discomfort was all she allowed herself. And yet the cane came down again and again, a dozen or more times. Finally the caning stopped. Kingsley gripped her by the hair and forced her to look up at him.

“Good girl,” he said in French. Bien fille. She smiled and he cupped her chin, raising her off the floor. He wrapped his arms around her back and unzipped her skirt. Seconds later she was completely naked but for her white strappy high heels. Kingsley inclined his head at the seat. “Arms and knees,” he said, giving her a gentle order. Søren had moved to the other seat and now they had the back bench to themselves. Good, because they needed the room, especially when she moved into position and Kingsley entered her from behind.