“It was your first time and I have it from reliable sources that there’re these things called feelings…”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Mm. Can’t say I’ve experienced them myself, but some people think they’re all the rage.”
“Oh, well. If some people think that, it must be true.”
He pulls a curl at the side of my face, straightening it and letting it bounce back before tugging it again. “I’ve never had sex with a virgin before.”
I swallow and scratch my nails lightly across his chest. “Good. Then it’s a new experience for you, too.”
“I’ll always be your first,” he says with something like wonder. “Even when you’re eighty and have banged half the city, you’ll still remember me.”
“Hey, what?” I swing my legs off the side of the bed. “Half the city seems excessive. I’m struggling to process half the room.”
“Where’re you going?” he asks, trying to snag my leg as I hunt for my sleeping tee on the floor and pull it over my head. When I dance out of his range, he closes his eyes. “Come back here at once.”
“You said you needed a shower before…”
“Before?” He cracks open one lid. “Oh, you’re that desperate for round two, eh?” When he climbs out of bed, my breath catches at how magnificent his body is. It’s hard to believe something so perfect is in the cheap hovel I call home. “Are your flatmates home, or can I walk around naked?”
“If they’re here, I honestly don’t think they’d mind.”
He laughs then pulls me close, giving me a kiss so hungry it makes my knees wobble.
Despite my assertion, he pulls on his jeans, following as I show him the bathroom. For the few minutes it takes for the water to heat, he props me on the vanity, playing with my tits under the shirt while I try with increasing ineffectual gestures to fight him off.
Eventually, I give up on my mock battle entirely and loop my legs around his waist, pulling him closer so I can explore his chest at the same time. My fingers trace a line over every one of his tattoos.
When he finally gets into the cubicle, he pulls me in after him, ignoring the fact there’s not room enough for us both. Somehow, we make it work and I love the feeling of rubbing body wash over every inch of his skin. It’s almost as good as his lathered fingers sliding over my breasts or the scalp massage he gives me as he washes my hair.
I’m too impatient to towel myself dry properly and soon chase him back to my bedroom, straddling him as he lays down, the jeans stripped from his body.
Starting at his neck, I kiss all the way down his lean torso, stopping at his nipples and letting my tongue play with them, using his moans to judge what he likes. Then I head farther down, grasping the base of his cock and opening my mouth wide to take him… except Zach pulls me back.
“No,” he says, repositioning me so I’m lying on the bed, one arm around my back and shoulder while the other caresses my cheek.
Confusion swarms through me as I try to reconcile his actions with his obvious arousal. “Am I doing something wrong?”
“No.” He closes his eyes and touches his forehead to mine. “I’m just not a morning person.”
My stomach ties in knots, insisting something is amiss, but I don’t want to spoil this feeling of closeness and so relax into his arms. With so little experience, I should let him dictate the pace. Perhaps this is normal? It’s not as though he left the second he pulled out or even the moment he woke.
“Don’t you need to dry your hair?”
The question comes out of the blue and I frown, then shake my head. “It is drying.”
“Sure, but with one of those magical new contraptions called a hairdryer.”
I shake my head. “Another one of those rich person assumptions.”
He pokes me in the side. “They cost thirty bucks.”
“Hey, this is my first flat, okay? I can’t afford to stock it with everything I need in the first week.”
With a groan, he lifts me to the opposite side of the bed, leaving the way clear for him to snag his jeans again.
“You’re leaving because I don’t have a hairdryer?”
