No one has ever done that to me before, and as my body floats back down to earth, the aftershocks of my orgasm give way to a tightening in my muscles—a need to please him back. To give him what he’s just given me.
I’ve never felt so wanted. So sexual. So... free.
And, sure, we haven’t talked yet, haven’t had the meaningful conversations I’ve always imagined I’d have with the person who I give my firsts, but for some reason this feels like enough. Like he already knows me without needing to speak. It’s possible I’m making a mistake, maybe I’ll wake up in the morning and regret my choice, but right now, I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.
I just want, for one second, to be able to let go.
If I’m honest with myself, in the deepest parts of my mind, and the darkest chambers of my heart, there’re pieces of me hoping that maybe once my virginity is gone, the coat of innocence I can’t seem to shed will disappear too.
It’s exhausting having everyone treat you as though you’re something fragile. Breakable. Less than.
Moira’s words from earlier flash through my mind, and so do Maria’s sharp jabs. Everyone sees me as a child; a young girl with no experience in the world, and for so long, I’ve let them speak their thinly veiled insults and backhanded compliments. I’ve let them assume that because I have soft features and don’t speak out of turn, it means they’re right.
But I’m tired.
And James, he makes me feel like a woman. Like his equal. Like I have a choice, and he respects me to make it.
He rises from his spot between my legs, his pink tongue licking along the seam of his lips as he gazes at me. Arousal swirls through my middle, my stomach flipping from his stare.
I sit up, leaning on my elbows, my insides warm and my head floating. James made me ride the edge of consciousness, blackness rimming my vision and euphoria flooding through my veins—the pressure winding through my core combined with the press of his palm making endorphins explode like fireworks. And now I’m still riding the high. I crawl toward him, the couch cushions soft under my knees, praying that I don’t look ridiculous. I have no clue what I’m doing, but for the first time, I unlock the clasp that latches my urges down deep, and I just do what feels good.
My hand runs up his leg, the fabric of his pants soft under my palms. His gaze tracks my every move, his nostrils flaring as he stares down at me.
I continue my trek upward, my stomach soaring and falling like a roller coaster as my palm meets the thick length between his legs. It’s surprisingly stiff—different than I expected, and heat builds in my center, desperate to know what it feels like in the palm of my hand.
“Can I touch you?” I ask.
His blue eyes flash, his fingers moving to cup my cheek. His touch is so tender my heart skips, warmth spreading like molasses through my chest, and I lean into his hand, wanting to bask in the comfort it provides.
“You never need permission to touch me, darling.” He sits forward, pressing his mouth to mine, suckling my bottom lip before pulling back. “I’m yours just as much as you’re mine.”
His words spread through my body like a wildfire, and I push him back on the couch, my hands going to his belt and unzipping his pants. His hips lift, allowing me to strip him from the waist down until his cock bobs free, standing straight in the air.
I sit back on my legs, heart ramming against my ribcage, nerves sizzling beneath my skin and making my hands clammy.
It’s bigger than I thought it would be. And thick; a large vein running up the underside and disappearing underneath the head. My tongue sneaks out to run along my lips, my insides tightening.
James reaches down, the veins on his hand flexing as he wraps his fingers around the shaft, stroking lewdly. My stomach cramps, an ache settling between my thighs, my already sensitive clit swelling from watching him pleasure himself.
His free hand runs through his hair, mussing the already tousled strands, and I’m transfixed at the sight of him so disheveled—so opposite to how everyone else gets to see him.
It’s intoxicating to know that I’m the one who makes him this way.
“Strip.” His voice scrapes across my insides like gravel.
A shiver shoots through me, and I sink into the comfort his direction provides, anxiety melting away because I know he’ll tell me what he needs.
“Okay.” I trail my fingertips from the top of my throat, slowly running them down the length of my sore neck and over my collarbone, slipping underneath the strap of my dress, allowing the material to loosen from where it’s resting on my shoulder.
My eyes never stray from James’s, his hand slowly working his length, his gaze zoned in on where my fingers are toying with the thin material of my dress.
“I said strip, pet, not torture me to death.”
His words sink into my skin and meld with the marrow of my bones, making me feel powerful. Making me feel like if I can bring this man to his knees, then I can do anything.
I let the strap fall off my shoulder. First one side, then the other. He bites his lip, his fingers squeezing the tip of his cock. His balls visibly tighten, and the sight makes my stomach flip.
My arm splays across my chest, holding the fabric in place, a small grin sneaking onto my face. “Say please.”
His nostrils flare. “You’re playing a very dangerous game.”
I lift a shoulder. “I’m just making sure you don’t forget your manners, darling.”
Quick as lightning, he bolts off the couch, my body forced back onto my elbows. I gulp down air, my eyes roaming from his face to his hand that’s still wrapped around his erection. It sticks straight out, liquid seeping from the tip as he moves his palm up and down, jerking off right in front of me. My legs squeeze together to ease the heavy ache throbbing between them.
“Do you like watching me?” he purrs. “Like knowing it’s you I’m desperate for?” His hand releases his length, moving to my waist. Butterflies burst in my stomach as he skims his fingers up my torso until they rest on the swell of my breasts.
He slips under the sweetheart neckline of my dress, gliding back and forth in a teasing caress, sparks of arousal ricocheting off my insides and settling deep in my core.
He pauses, his hand curling beneath the fabric. “I don’t beg,” he says. “Ever.” My breath sticks in my lungs as a small smile graces his lips.
And then he pulls.
Hard.
My body flings forward as he rips the dress from my frame, the fabric tearing, creating a burn against my skin. I exhale harshly, adrenaline and arousal mixing in my veins like a lethal cocktail, making me dizzy with want.
His palm cups my breast in his hand, manipulating the flesh beneath his fingers. “Beautiful.”
He releases me and moves back to the opposite end of the couch, settling back into his reclined position. “Now strip.”
I stand on shaky legs, my palms trailing a line from the top of my chest down to my nipples, grasping them between my fingers and twisting. Tingles trickle through me with every pull, so I continue the motion, my eyes closing as I get lost in the way it makes me feel.
“Fuck,” he whispers.
My gaze springs open at the word. It’s the first time he’s cursed, and hearing it now makes my core throb.
His hand glides down his abdomen, wrapping around his thick cock. “You are always a vision, darling, but you look absolutely devastating while you touch yourself.”
I feel like a goddess under his stare, and as I remove the tattered remains of my dress and walk to him, I allow my newfound confidence to coast along my skin and fill up every pore. Climbing on the couch, I slide between his legs. My hands go back to their spot on his thighs, tracing up the muscles until I surround the base of his groin, my face inches from his length.
Nerves trickle through my newfound confidence, and I blow out a shaky breath. Slowly, I slide my palm up until my fingers wrap around his shaft. For a moment, I just hold my hand there, taking in the feel of him. It’s more malleable than I expected, and when I squeeze my fingers, it jumps. A giggle bursts out of me.
A low chuckle rumbles through his body, his teeth gleaming from his grin. “I can assure you, laughter is not something a man wants to hear when you’re face down in his lap.”
I shake my head. “No, I’m sorry, it’s just… I’ve never—” I move my hand experimentally, sliding it up the length and running my fingers over the tip. “Will you show me how you like it?”
His palm wraps around mine, making my grip tighter before moving us in tandem, stroking him up, twisting at the top, and then moving back down. I breathe deep, my core contracting.
He sits up, his free hand cupping my cheek, like he knows I need the comfort. “I like that you’ve never done this before. There’s nothing you can do to me that I won’t enjoy. Understand?”
I nod.
“Good girl.” He lays back. “Now put your mouth on it.”