“This is weird.” I bite my lip, trying to ignore the fact my hands are covered with goo.
“Hold on girl.” Bryson carefully draws me in by the cheeks. “Because it’s about to get a whole lot better.” He offers a tender kiss, and a burst of adrenaline spikes through me. Bryson gently presses my knees back until I open for him, wide and exposed. “That’s my girl.” He lies over me, and I take his weight as his breathing picks up another notch. “Don’t let me hurt you,” he pants, propping himself on his elbows.
I’d hate to break it to him, but that seems a non-contestable point right about now. There is no way in hell he’s not going to hurt me. In fact, at this stage of the game, the question is just how much damage is he going to inflict? And should I have a team of plastic surgeons on standby ready to reconstruct my body.
“I want you to guide me in.” He licks a heated line up my cheek.
I brace myself as I reach down to provide my less-than-enthusiastic navigational services.
Good God, he’s the size of a freaking cucumber—one of those abnormally long and thick ones that makes you look twice in the supermarket because, deep down, you know it’s vulgar. A whimper escapes my throat. I’ve seen enough television—enough R rated movies to know that some women scream their heads off during sex, and now it makes total sense why. It was the pain making them turn up the volume on their vocal cords—not pleasure. Although, thisisBryson inflicting the pain. On second thought, it will very much be pleasure. If there’s a fine line between pleasure and pain, God knows I’m about to cross it in the very best way.
Bryson reaches down to help speed along the efforts. Obviously, he’s got a hard-on to contend with, and I’m the one who foolishly volunteered to help relieve it.
“Right there,” he whispers as the tip pushes its way into me.
My mouth opens, and a choking sound emits as he pushes in ever so slowly, and my existence feels like it’s about to split open, ass first. My body takes him, hugs him,strangleshim to be exact as he slowly fills me with his inexplicably long cucumber-like body.
Then, in a moment, he glides in deeper, and my insides wrap around him like a glove. A burning sensation rips through me in every direction at once, and a white-hot pain ignites where my ass once happily sat—and, horror of all horrors, tears come to my eyes. I press my lips tight, not wanting to ruin the moment as I resist the urge to slap him the hell away from me. Then he pulls out and offers a touch of relief before spearing back in, nice and slow, and, to my surprise, it begins to feels pleasurable through the pain.
“Tell me if I’m hurting you,” he pants through a smile as he watches from above.
“No.” As in,no I won’t. Instead, I clutch onto his back and press him deeper until he hits the limit, and I let out a little cry of relief because he didn’t pierce through my diaphragm and take out my vocal cords in the process. The smile melts off his face. His eyes roll into his head. His neck bends back a moment, and I give a private smile at the thought of reducing him to such a primal state of being.
“Oh shit, Baya,” he groans, loud and proud of the way I’m making him feel, and now I’m glad his mother isn’t anywhere near the house to listen in on our carnal vocal exchange.
“Bryson.” I tighten my muscles around his joystick, and he pants a dull laugh.
“Yeah, that,” he moans, before lowering his lips to mine. I reach back and press him in deeper still, folding my legs over his back and caging him in like seasoned pro.
Bryson takes in a quick breath and bites down over his lip.
There. I did it.
We did it.
I’m no longer Baya Brighton the perennial virgin, I’m Bryson Edwards’ girlfriend, and he is sweetly making love to me for the very first time.
I can’t wait to replicate the effort night after night.
I don’t think it will ever get old.
Not with Bryson.
Not by a long shot.
Bryson
Damn.
Baya Brighton has the power to make me come on demand just from being in the same room, and now that I’m deep inside of her, I can’t figure out how to make it last. She’ll think I’m defective if I lose it before I get a single decent thrust in. And, with Baya around, I sort of am defective, in a crazy good way.
“Let me know if this hurts.” I sweep a kiss over her lips. She’s all but stopped breathing. Her hands are flattened against my chest as if she’s getting ready to evict me. The inside of her body is so tight it feels like heaven, but I’m guessing it doesn’t feel so hot for her right about now.
I pull up on my elbows and glide in and out, slow as humanly possible without turning this into a torture session for the both of us. Her legs relax and loosen around my back, so I take it as a green light and speed up a little.
“Shit,” I hiss into her ear. “You’re killing me, Baya.” Swear to God it’s never felt this fucking good. “I’m ready to lose it.”
I give a few hearty thrusts the way I want to, the way I’ve been dying to right from the beginning. That first day I laid eyes on her, I wanted nothing more than to bend her over my mattress and thrust deep inside her until she screamed out in pleasure. I’ve thought about all the hundreds of ways I could have her, tossed off to her beautiful face regularly for weeks in the shower, but this was infinitely better than any fantasy, any convoluted idea conjured up by my subconscious. But I knew she wasn’t that kind of a girl, no matter how hard her tits tried to convince me that first day, I knew she was sweet. That she was the one for me.
