With one hand cupping my bum, he lifts me slightly. His fingers are between my cheeks, pressing on the hole between them. The other hand grasps his cock and feeds his erection into me. Slowly. Inch by inch until he stops on a groan. Hisshoulders are taut from his restraint. The pace is perfect for me, but I imagine he wants to thrust. But he isn't.
I'm feeling a lot of tightness, a lot of stretching. And I'm so full. So utterly taken.
"Fuck." I barely hear the word, but I feel it against my lips. "Relax, Cassidy."
He uses his hand to push his erection further in, but he's not fitting—it hurts. I begin to wriggle my hips and mewl. He curses again and thrusts harder. And then I feel a sting like an elastic band being flicked inside me. And now he's sliding in deep and I'm crying out in pain and pleasure.
"Relax," he groans as he kisses my face, his penis pumping inside me.
Heat from his skin radiates against mine. There's an intense, mind-blowing sensation when his whole erection stretches me open. Our breathing becomes laboured. Our lips are everywhere.
As he begins to speed up, I hug his neck and look over his shoulder at his reflection. I watch as his muscular, tattooed back tightens and his perfect backside thrusts into me, clenching and releasing with each buck of his hips. My legs and body shake from the force of him. It's voyeuristic. Erotic. My ears start to burn. The muscles inside me, circling his penis, begin to squeeze together and pulse. And it seems to affect Max because he's groaning louder beside my ear.
He lifts me to straddle his waist, supporting my weight with ease and bounces me on top of him.
He's not slow anymore.
But he's not rough.
My stomach tenses up. My toes curl. And Max is so fricking strong. He moulds my body wherever he wants it and even though I want to crawl away, the sensation coming on too fast, too intense, he's taking me, handling me.
My legs begin to shake as heat shoots up my thighs and down my abdomen, crashing together in a powerful orgasm. I cry out, but Max swallows my sounds.
My body feels weak, muscles fatigued and trembling. He continues to bounce me on top of him until I feel him grow even bigger inside me. He's growling next to my ear now and thrusting up once more. Holding me close, he pulsates on a wave of pleasure. His groan is deep and sexy—my new favourite sound.
He buries his head in the arch of my neck, exhausted. As he nuzzles me, I brush my fingers through his thick, dark-brown hair. The sweetness of this moment makes my heart skip.
When he finally lowers me down, his penis slips from inside me, wet and amazingly beautiful. But at the sight of the blood on the condom, my chest tightens. Glancing between my legs, I spot my blood-mixed arousal sliding down my thighs like a pink snake.
Max grabs my chin and lifts my wide eyes to meet his soft, supportive ones. "It's normal. I'm a big guy."
I breathe out fast and with urgency, not even realising I was holding my breath. He pulls the condom off and ties the end before walking over to the waste bin and disposing of it.
I detail his body from a distance. At the sight of the smug grin plastered all across his face, my cheeks flush. "Stop it, Max."
Staring at me in the mirror, he tucks his penis into his boxers. "I was watching your sexy little arse bounce on my cock in the mirror."
I cover my face, which is ridiculous because I'm naked from the knee up. "Oh my gawd."
"Big tick for the choice of venue." He laughs and I look upfrom my hands to see that relaxed smile again. Max appears lighter for a moment.
He moves towards me and scoops me into his arms, cradling me as he walks into the bathroom. We smile at each other. He places me on top of the vanity and helps me clean myself up. I'm not at all uncomfortable—he's incredibly attentive.
I throw on a yellow tee-shirt and a pair of denim short shorts.
When I'm completely dressed, he says, "I gotta go, Little One."
My heart sinks.
My mouth gapes as I watch him pull his jeans and shirt on. He can’t seriously be leaving. Not straight after that. Not straight after taking my virginity.
He turns to leave, so I rush after him and grab his wrist. "Don't go."
He stops. When he faces my direction again, I take a step back. A long sigh escapes him as he studies me with a tight expression—seeing every desperate and pathetic inch of me.
"I got shit to do," he says as his finger strokes down the shaft of my nose before tapping the tip playfully. "I'll see ya soon."
"One hour. Hang out with me for an hour?"
