I lose my breath, look back up to see his eyes glinting darkly at half-mast, his mouth firm, decisive.
“I get tested regularly,” he says. “No STDs.”
My pulse picks up. Are we doing this? Taking this step and exploring this kink of his—ours—together?
“Same.” I bite my lip to keep from showing him my excitement. “All negative.”
The backs of his knuckles drag over my shoulder, the side of my breast, my waist. He bends his knees, grips my hip, stares at his hand as it runs lightly to my center. Gently, so gently, he skims my sex, then uses those thick fingers to open me up. “Get on the bed,” he whispers.
I don’t hesitate.
“On your back, legs wide. Let me see it. Let me see.”
Nervous now, I splay myself open. I feel objectified in a way I’ve never been before. Exposed and vulnerable.
I want more.
He doesn’t make me wait, though, and even that’s like a gift, because the way he comes over and hovers over me is so eager and uncalculating, there’s no doubt in my mind that I’m wanted.
If anything, he’s desperate.
For me.
That desperation makes him sloppy. The body that seemed incapable of so much as fumbling a minute ago is suddenly tripping over itself to get to me.
“Fuck, fuck, I want you.”
“You’ve got me,” I tell him, sensitive and tender and exposed.
“Baby.” He covers me, his body competent despite the emotion or excitement or whatever it is making him clumsy. “Twyla.”
He shifts to one side, runs his hand over me and then hitches my leg up high, rolls between my thighs and, before I’m mentally ready for it, presses in.
“Oh, fuck,” he says, barely breaching me. “Fuck, Twyla, it’s so… you’re so… Fuck.”
I’d giggle at his inability to speak, but I’m feeling pretty much the same. “Yeah,” I manage, encouraging him with a hand on his back, another tight on his ass. “So good.”
“I’m bare.”
“Yeah.”
His cock forges in another inch. Another. God, how did I not equate just how big he is? The fit’s tight. He has to work to get inside me. It doesn’t hurt, exactly, but the stretch isn’t comfortable either.
“So goddamn hot.”
He draws out a little. My hands spasm, tighten, drag him back.
His answering laugh turns immediately into a grimace when he plunges in another inch, another, drawing a groan from me before bottoming out.
For a handful of inhalations, he stays there, lets me adjust. Maybe he’s adjusting, too, given the newness of it all.
“I’ve never…” I pause while he draws out, brings his tip almost to my entrance, and then plunges back in, hard and swift.
“Never what?” He asks, lifting up on stiff arms, looking down between us, admiring our bodies together.
When I don’t immediately reply, he pauses and looks up.
“Never done it like this either.”
