But there’s no need to question if he can tell I’m wet or not; his other hand finds its way to my clit while the other one stays cupped on my ass. I clench my teeth together to force myself not to groan and not to thrust my hips.
There’s no way he’s sleeping anymore. I don’t think it’s physically possible for someone to make me feel this way while he’s not even conscious. He has to be messing with me, but I’m too afraid to look up and see if his eyes are open. I have the impulse to reach for him. Grab his length and give him the same pleasure. Maybe that would make me feel more in control of this odd situation.
Is this how messed up the two of us are? The only way we can have a moment of intimacy is if we’re both pretending we’re sleeping?
He takes a break from swirling around my clit to put two fingers inside of me. This time I can’t fight the urge to let out an embarrassing moan. He’s being aggressive in a way that’s slightly painful but that somehow only adds to the pleasure. He’s hitting a spot that makes me want more.
Makes me want him.
He uses his thumb on my clit, and I can barely contain myself. I’m thrusting my hips against him, moaning—sometimes small, feminine, sounds—but one was low and guttural.
I feel myself getting closer to a climax with each breath I take. Traditionally, I’m supposed to be a virgin, but no one really follows that custom too closely anymore. That being said, I’m not terribly experienced, and I know I’ve never been able to finish with a man before. I sometimes even struggle when I don’t have a vibrator and only have my hand.
But I can hear how wet I am. I know it’s building up, and then what’s going to happen when I come? Are we simply going to pretend to keep sleeping?
“P…please,” I moan. Not even realizing that was external until his hand pauses.
Oh, my God. Was he actually sleeping?
I freeze up as his hand pulls away from me. I can hear him inhale my arousal as he brings his fingers close to his nose. Then without saying anything, he throws his sheets off of him. I question whether he’s going to get up, done playing with me, but he lifts his hips up and pulls his boxer briefs off.
My breath hitches as his hard cock stands straight up. Maybe it’s because my face is pressed against his chest, but from this angle, he looks massive.
We both stay suspended in time. Neither of us making a move. I’m tempted to reach for it, but something is stopping me. It’s like I’m oddly comfortable with him touching me and not the other way around. What if I do something wrong? What if he makes fun of me for it?
“Take off your clothes and climb on.”
His voice is soft but commanding. Smooth.
I rest my hand on his hard stomach and sit up, then throw my shirt off, and pull my panties down before I can give it a secondthought. His eyes focus on my chest. He strokes himself for a bit until his eyes meet mine again. I freeze up.
He analyzes me, then he lets out a chuckle. “It ruins it for you when you look at my face, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah,” I answer and nod my head absently before I even process the question, realizing what I just agreed to. While making eye-contact with him is intense, it’s not ruining anything. “But not because… it’s only that…”
“You fucking hate me?”
No, I don’t.
I want to look into his eyes, to kiss him, to have him make me his. But I don’t know how to express this. And I’m so confused about my own motives behind all of this that I don’t know what to think.
I must have frozen too long because he rolls his eyes and says, “Turn around and climb on.”
I bite my bottom lip, wanting to argue or just simply clarify that I misspoke earlier. But there’s something about being with him in this setting that makes me blindly follow whatever it is he says—like when he told me to bend over his desk.
I position myself over him, facing away from him. Then slide down his length. I grip his thighs as he stretches me out.
“I can’t believe how tight you are,” he groans and then shifts around a bit, going even deeper.
I’m frozen as I sit on him. I was not expecting things to move this quickly. But the way he feels inside of me—that stretched out and full feeling—makes me happy that things escalated so quickly from cuddling. I’ve been craving this for such a long time.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
I nod, still not using my words.
“Then bounce.” I can hear the arrogant smirk on his face.
I move my hips up and down; my back arches in response to how intense it feels each time I land back down and he fills me entirely. I close my eyes and focus on the sensation.
