I peel her thermal top off, revealing a simple bra underneath. Her hands go to cover herself instinctively, but I catch her wrists.
"Don't hide from me."
"I'm not... I mean, I'm not like—"
"You're not like anyone." I kiss her collarbone, her shoulder. "You're you. And you're perfect."
I worship her with my mouth—the swell of her breasts over her bra, the soft skin of her stomach, the curve of her hips. Every place she's been taught to hide, I claim with lips and tongue and whispered praise.
"Nick." My name is a prayer and a plea.
I remove her bra, and she's gorgeous—full breasts, dusky nipples already tight. I take one in my mouth and she arches off the cot with a gasp.
"More," she whispers.
I lavish attention on her breasts while my hand slides down her stomach to the waistband of her ski pants. "Can I?"
"Yes. Please. Yes."
I strip her pants and underwear off, drinking in the sight of her. Full thighs, the soft swell of her belly, dark curls between her legs. She's real and feminine and everything I want.
"You're staring," she says, blushing.
"I'm memorizing." I kiss her inner thigh. "Every soft place. Every curve. I want to remember this forever."
When I put my mouth on her, she cries out. I explore her with my tongue, learning what makes her gasp, what makes her hipsbuck. She's responsive and unguarded, no performance—just honest pleasure.
"Nick, I'm going to—"
"Let go. I've got you."
She comes against my mouth, beautiful and abandoned, my name on her lips.
Before she can catch her breath, I'm kissing my way back up her body. She fumbles with my belt, my zipper, hands shaking.
"Help me," she whispers.
I strip off my remaining clothes and her eyes go wide. "Oh."
"Second thoughts?"
"No. Definitely not." She reaches for me, wrapping her hand around my cock. I groan at the contact.
I take a condom from my wallet—thank God I’d packed it. After our first lesson I bought a whole box. My hands shake as I roll it on and settle between her thighs.
"Look at me," I say.
Her eyes meet mine. They’re dark, trusting, and full of want.
I enter her slowly, watching her face. She's tight and wet and perfect, and I have to pause, overwhelmed.
"Okay?" I manage.
"So okay." She rolls her hips experimentally and I nearly lose it.
I move with slow, deep strokes. She wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me deeper. The cot is too small and creaks with every thrust, but I don't care. There's only this. Only Daria beneath me, around me, her hands in my hair, and her breath in my ear.
"Harder," she whispers.
