“Woah, woah ... okay. Hey, slow down.” He wipes my tears away and pulls away from me.
“No, I mean I’m okay. I can do this. I want to. I'm ... just, it’s a thing is all. Just a stupid thing.” I try and shake off the fear.
“No, chère. It’s not a stupid thing, it is a sacred thing,” he corrects me.
“But, I don’t want to wait until marriage. I’m fine, really I am.” Fuck, why am I still crying?
“I’m sure you are and we can continue if you want, but a woman’s first time with a man needs a little more finesse. I’m okay that this is your first time. I’m a little curious how you’re still fully intact at twenty-four? I mean there’s tampons and horseback riding ... and none of the clothingless men got to you before me?” He’s laughing, that’s good right?
“You’re the only one who, I don’t know, felt right I guess. I haven’t wanted to ...” I could not sound or feel more pathetic right now.
“I mean, I kind of thought I’d do this with Mr. Right. I really did, but Mr. Right ghosted me, another Mr. Right was a little bit of a misogynist, and then Mr. Right was gay, but a good friend ... and then I discovered that Mr. Right was ... well, Mr. Wrong it turns out, so ...” I wipe my eyes. “Here I am in a bedroom on an airplane with Mr. Dubois. And honestly, I have rarely felt a spark this strong to do it.” God, just kill me now.
“And Monsieur Dubois knows how to make a woman feel amazing. So, you and I will both have a memory of tonight. For me you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever been with and for you, I’m your first. I think that works out nicely. Or you can turn over and go to sleep and I’ll hold you or let you be. You still have that option.”
Why is he being so understanding?
“Can I ask you something?” I know it’s a risk, but I need to know.
“But of course, what do you want to know?” His smile could melt me to the ground.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” One last tear escapes.
“You don’t want my money. You haven’t asked me even once what I do or how much I make. You’re sweet, you deserve to be around people who treat you like you treat them. You’re beautiful, that’s a well-established fact, but you don’t know it and, worse, don’t believe it. I think there may only be one person exactly like you on this earth. I’m being nice because the nicer I am, the longer you’ll tolerate me. And I genuinely like you, ma chérie. I want to be your first so I can make sure that the first time you have sex, you are worshipped, adored, and pleasured to the height of ecstasy. I hope you give me that chance.”
Wow. Who could say no?
“When I have sex with you, will you still respect me?”
“To me, sex is like eating. We all need to eat. I don’t respect you any more if you eat or any less if you don’t. I respect you if you treat people well, are smart and interesting, and add value to our world. And Juliet, I respect you very much. If you have sex with me, I’ll still respect you. If you don’t, my respect doesn’t change. If you bend over and take it up the ass, choke me down to the balls and swallow, I’d respect you just as much as if you get up, get dressed and walk away. Sex will never change the way I respect you.”
“Thank you,” I say and relax in his arms. “Then I’d very much like you to ... worship me.”
“Bravo.” He kisses my lips and he’s back to doing wicked things with his mouth.
Not only does he kiss me all over, he does it so slowly and with expert skill. I shiver and quake with anticipation when he reaches my vagina again. This time he playfully kisses my innerthighs, my knees, the tops of my legs, my belly, and finally, me. He takes his time lapping at my center focusing his attention on my clit until I am blind with desire.
“Okay, I think I'm ready,” I say, ready to no longer be a virgin.
“Relax, chérie, now that you’re more comfortable, I want you to climax first.” He gives me a flirty grin and tickles his fingers over my belly and before I know it, they are raking over the heated and sensitive skin on my pussy.
“Okay.” I smile because an orgasm sounds fun, I've never had one with anyone else before.
He dips one finger into me and rolls the pad of his thumb over my clit. He then kisses and sucks on my nipple until I'm dripping with need. He slips a second finger in and starts pumping slowly at first then with expert fervor until I'm so wound up I feel like I'm about to explode. One more finger joins the first two and I detonate, panting. My pussy clenches around his fingers and I shiver and shake with the most intense orgasm I've ever experienced.
“Now, you're ready,” he tells me.
Without fanfare or more conversation he lays on top of me as I spread my legs wide for him and gently he presses into my body. At first he feels heavy and my tightness makes it difficult for him to enter.
“What do I do?” I ask. “How do I make this easier for you?”
“You don't,” is his answer. “I've got this,” he says rubbing the head of his cock over my wet opening several times until it starts to relax for him.
Soon he’s able to get most of his head in. As he gently pumps in and out of me, he kisses my lips again as if he’s trying to memorize my mouth. As his hips dance against mine he slowly enters me until he reaches the barrier of my virginity. I’ve never put anything inside of me including a tampon, so I’m still intact and with one sharp thrust he is fully seated. It doesn’t hurt, but I do feel very full of him. Suddenly Marcel is all I think about, his cologne, his size, the way he holds me close to his body. Everything at that moment is Marcel Dubois.
“How are you?” he asks and all I can do is breathe.
I’m not bad, I’m fine, it’s just very overwhelming. I know this is supposed to be fun and it is fun, just it’s also a lot. I don’t want to cry, I don’t mean to because I’m not sad, but I’m overstimulated.
