His fingers traced the edge of my dress, pushing it up slowly, exposing my thighs. I tensed briefly, but his touch was so gentle my concerns melted away.
He kissed me deeply, his tongue exploring my mouth as his fingers slid under the fabric of my underwear, stroking my wetness. My hips lifted involuntarily to meet his touch.
Santo broke the kiss, his lips trailing down to my collarbone, then lower, until they hovered over the neckline of my dress. He tugged the fabric down, exposing my breasts, and I felt a flush of embarrassment mixed with excitement.
His eyes met mine, filled with desire and appreciation. “You’re beautiful, aggelé mou,” he murmured, before lowering his head to take one nipple into his mouth.
I arched my back, a soft cry escaping my lips as he sucked and teased, his tongue circling the sensitive peak. He paid equal attention to my other breast, his fingers continuing to stroke and explore between my legs. The pleasure built and my body wanted more.
His mouth moved lower, kissing every inch of my skin. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my underwear and pulled them down, leaving me fully exposed to his gaze.
I watched, mesmerized, as he lowered his head, replacing his fingers with his mouth. And oh my God—it was almost too much. I gripped the sheets as he brought me closer and closer to the edge.
When the orgasm hit, a burst of light flashed behind my eyes, my body convulsing with the force of it. I cried out his name, my voice echoing through the cottage, drowned out only by the pounding rain outside.
Santo stood up, his eyes locked on mine as he undid his belt, pushing his jeans down. His penis sprang free, hard and ready. I swallowed hard, my heart racing. He leaned down, capturing my mouth in a deep kiss, his tongue sliding against mine, sharing the taste of my arousal.
I should tell him, I thought briefly, but my voice was locked away, replaced by a deep, throbbing desire. I wanted this. I wanted him. I trusted him. Even if I was scared, I knew he’d take care of me.
He positioned himself at my entrance, his eyes never leaving mine. I felt a pressure, a stretching sensation as he pushed into me. I felt a sharp pain, and I cried out, unable to hide my discomfort.
Santo stilled immediately, his eyes searching mine. “Tia,” he said, his voice filled with concern and surprise. “Is this your first time?”
“Yes,” I admitted softly.
He pulled back, but I stopped him by gripping his shoulders. “No, Santo,” I said, my voice calm despite the tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. “I want this. I want you.”
He looked at me, his expression tender. “I don’t deserve this or you, Tia,” he murmured, brushing a thumb across my cheek.
“That’s not your call to make.” I traced my fingers along his jaw, feeling the slight roughness of stubble. “I’ve spent my whole life playing it safe. Being the responsible one. The practical one. For once, I want to be careless. Please, Santo. I want you to finish what you started.”
He hesitated for a moment, then nodded, leaning down to kiss me softly. “Tell me if it hurts too much,” he whispered against my lips. “We’ll go slow, okay?”
I nodded, wrapping my legs around him, pulling him closer. He pushed into me again, slowly, gently, giving my body time to adjust. The pain was still there, but it was duller now.
He moved carefully, his body trembling with the effort to hold back. I could see the strain on his face, the tension in his shoulders. But he was patient, letting me set the pace, letting me guide him.
A sense of wonder filled me as I witnessed the pleasure building in him. It was a heady sensation, knowing that I was the one doing this to him, that I was the one making him feel this way.
I didn’t come, and I didn’t care. This moment was ours, and I felt powerful in it.
I pulled him closer, wanting to deepen the connection, wanting to feel more of him. He groaned, his body shuddering as he struggled to maintain control.
“Aggelé mou,” he murmured, his voice strained. “You feel so good. Too good.”
I smiled, a sense of feminine power surging through me. I wanted to give him everything, wanted to see him come. I tilted my hips, taking him deeper, urging him to let go.
He looked at me, his eyes filled with desire and concern. “But you... you haven’t...” he stammered.
I silenced him with a kiss, my hands cupping his face. “It’s okay,” I whispered against his lips. “This is enough for me. You being my first... it’s enough.”
He searched my eyes, looking for any sign of doubt or discomfort. Whatever he saw must have reassured him, because he began moving again, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more demanding.
I watched him as he found his release. I held him close, my arms wrapped around him, feeling his heart pound against my chest.
In the aftermath, he held me, his hands soothing as they stroked my back. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.
I nodded with a smile. “Yes.”
