He smiles wider, seeing through my bullshit.
“I guess I’ll just have to warm them up then,” he says, and he lowers his head to close his hot mouth over one stiff peak.
I bow off the couch and make a noise I’m sure is half moan, half wildebeest mating call. Ash holds my hands firmly above my head, but the rest of me writhes beneath him, completely unable to hold still as he sucks and licks and teases one nipple and then the other.
“I fucking love how your body responds,” he says as he lifts his head. “It’s perfect.”
Ash unbuttons and unzips my jeans, then slides his hand into my pants. His fingers find the folds of my pussy as I try to keep from panting, and he runs his middle finger over my clit before pushing it inside me. I buck beneath him, amazed how easily he can make me react with the simplest touch. And he hasn’t even taken his pants off yet.
“Fuck, Gray,” he says, sliding his finger in and out. “You’re drenched for me.”
My instinct is to deny it, despite the obvious evidence to the contrary, but I don’t get the chance. Ash lifts himself off me, and for a few horrifying seconds I’m afraid my excessive arousal turned him off, but he hooks his hands over the waist of my pants and yanks them down my legs. He looks down at me, and I take a moment to thank the lingerie gods I wore a lacey pair of black panties. They only last a couple seconds more before Ash strips them off as well.
He fishes in the pocket of his jeans and pulls out his wallet. He opens it, pulls out a condom, and tosses both the condom and the wallet on the coffee table.
“If you don’t want this, Gray, say so now,” Ash says as he unzips his jeans and pulls them down his legs.
I’m still laid out on the couch naked, hands tangled in my sweater above my head as I watch him shed his boxer briefs, and his cock springs free, hard and ready. It looks just as I remember it from the dick pics he sent, thick and veiny with a slight upward curve. It’s big. Bigger than anyother guy I’ve been with, and I kick myself mentally for not using my larger dildo this week to prepare.
Ash kneels on the couch, pushes my thighs open, and reaches for the condom.
“I’m sorry,” he says as he opens the package and rolls the rubber down his length as I watch. “Normally I’d spend some time worshipping your sweet little cunt with my tongue, but I’m about to blow my load, and I want to be inside you when I do. I’ll make it up to you next time.”
Next time.
I’m not sure if he’s just saying that to trick me into thinking this won’t be a one-night stand or if he really believes we’ll do this again. God, he hasn’t even entered me yet, and I’m already hoping for more.
His use of the word "cunt" doesn’t phase me. Many countries outside the US don’t find the word as offensive as we often do, and I’ve learned that his filthy mouth only arouses me. I can barely stand it right now, in fact. I’ll scream if he doesn’t fuck me soon.
Ash pulls the back pillows off the couch to make more room, and my legs fall open wider as he settles between them.
“You want this, right?” he asks. “You consent to letting me fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before?”
I blink. He’s asking for consent, and it hits me that I’m about to have sex with a professional athlete. This is his reality, perhaps more so than other men, and now I’m surprised he hasn’t whipped out an electronic form for me to sign.
How many women has he slept with anyway?
I shake myself mentally. This is not the time to think about his other women. I couldn’t back out now if I tried, so thinking about the women who came before and those who’ll come after isn’t doing me any favors.
Ash waits for my answer, and I nod. “Yes,” I add, realizing he probably wants verbal consent, and now I’m wondering if he’s recording this so he has me on record.
“Good girl,” Ash says as he lowers himself onto me, and I feel mypussy clench. He reaches between us to line himself up, then presses forward. I have half a second to realize this is really happening before his tip parts me. I press my head back against the couch as I feel his cock stretch me open, and my hips jerk as he gives one tentative thrust.
“God dammit, baby. You’re so fucking tight,” Ash says as he pushes forward again, withdraws, then buries himself inside me.
I cry out and Ash stops immediately. His hand comes up to cradle the back of my neck. “Gray? Are you alright? Did I hurt you?”
There’s a bit of a sting since it’s been more than a year since I’ve had an actual cock inside me, and never one this thick, but my scream was about ninety-five percent pleasure and five percent pain. My response is to wrap a leg around his hip to keep him from going anywhere.
“I’m fine. Keep going,” I say.
I try to wrap my arms around his neck, but I forget I’m still tangled in my sweater, and Ash has to pin my hands back down on the couch to keep from getting a face-full of it.
He pulls out slowly before pushing back in, and I swear I can count every inch of him as he enters.
“Fuck, baby, I’m not going to last,” Ash says as he starts to move. “I should’ve jerked off before you came over so I could go longer. I’ve been thinking about fucking you ever since I kissed you in the parking lot. No, scratch that. I’ve been wanting to fuck you since I saw those tattoos on your back. We’re doing it doggy next so I can see them.”
I have the urge to ask him why he wanted to fuck me so bad. I’m pretty enough when I try, but this man has dated actresses and probably models. This doesn’t seem like the right time for a conversation about my feelings of inadequacy, though.
