I watch him, dazed, as Conor strips out of his boxers. His length is thick and hard, with an angry red crown. I’m still not sure how something that big is supposed to fit inside of me, but I find myself parting my legs as he settles between them.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, Arianna,” Conor rasps, his mouth finding mine in a deep kiss, whining when I taste myself on his lips and tongue. “I want to hide you from the world, keep you as my little secret. My precious little treasure.A rún.”
“Oh!” I whimper, grabbing his shoulders when I feel the hard press of his cock rubbing against my opening.
“I’ll be gentle, baby,” he rasps, his eyes meeting mine knowingly as I flush. Does he know? How could he know? Christ, I was hoping to get through this without having to admit out loud that I am a virgin.
“I don’t need gentle,” I say stubbornly.
"Oh, but you do, baby,” he rasps, his mouth brushing intimately over mine. “A man like myself can’t help but treat a gem like you with anything but care.”
“I don’t…oh!” I gasp when he inches into me, and heavens above, he feels so huge, stretching me. My fingers tighten on his shoulders, feeling incredibly vulnerable as he slides deeper into me, confused about how the heck this is supposed to feel good. There are so many of us on planet earth, and sex always seems to be the topic of conversations. If it’s so popular, then how is it supposed to feel? Is it supposed to be pleasurable?
“Look at me,” Conor orders, his voice penetrating through the chaos in my head and forcing my gaze to his. “Don’t think. Just look at me.”
“Okay,” I whisper, pushing down the panic to focus on the man I’ve shared the last couple of days with. Maybe I was mistaken about him, disliked him over a single interaction when he’s shown he’s not that kind of guy. He’s protected me, treated me with care, and made me feel beautiful…
Jesus Christ, I’m in love with Conor O’Shea.
The thought is quickly pushed from my mind when the man in question dips his head and closes his mouth hotly over my sensitive nipple, forcing a rush of moisture between my legs. “Oh,” I whimper, sliding a hand to his nape as pleasure shoots through me.
Conor starts thrusting shallowly into me, making me arch into his touch. Each thrust sends him deeper into me. “Oh God, Conor!” I cry out when he sucks harder on my nipple, making my back arch on the bed. When his lips find mine again, I’m trembling, sobbing, and arching into him.
“So beautiful,” he rasps, kissing my mouth and cheek, his lips moving to my neck. “You’re mine,a rún!”
“Conor!” I cry out when he slams forward, through the thin veil of my innocence and fills me completely. I clench hard around him as pain and pleasure shoot through me. The pain fades to a dull throb, and despite my initial conflict, I realize that I want more.
“Are you okay, baby?” Conor asks hoarsely, his voice filled with concern as is his expression when he pulls back to look at me. I can tell he’s holding back, pushing down his own instincts for me, and it makes my heart soar with affection.
I love him.
“I’m fine,” I whisper, meeting his heated gaze with one of my own. “Please don’t stop. Take me, Conor.Please.”
Make me yours.
“I’m not stopping, baby,” he rasps, hands gripping my hips as he starts moving, grinding slowly into me. “You’re so fucking tight. It’s taking everything in me not to come.” His voice is strained as are his muscles as he moves in and out of me—gently. Carefully.
I love him.
Afraid he’ll read the emotions on my face, I pull him down and bury my face in his throat, feeling the fast beat of his heart as his pace increases with each thrust into me. I didn’t think I’d like it, but the friction sets a fresh wave of fire inside of me, and I start moaning and mewling, clawing at his shoulder as pleasure rushes through me.
“Oh God,” I cry into his shoulder, arching my hips to meet his thrusts until we find a rhythm.
“Good?”
“Yeah,” I whimper, hugging him tighter as his movements grow fevered and his breathing becomes broken. Conor grips my hips and drives into me with such hunger that it feeds my own need. I make a strangled sound as his body slaps against me, his cock seeming to thicken with every thrust.
“I’m not going to last much longer, baby,” he pants into my neck before dropping his left hand between us. I cry out when he strums my clit, sending sharp bites of heat through my core, pulling me closer to yet another orgasm. His breathing grows ragged, his thrust turning jerky.
“Fuck…fuuuck!” he growls as he pumps his cock into me, faster, harder. Then he goes still above me, muscles tense and strained. I feel the flood of his cum just as my own climax blinds me. I claw his back as my pussy clenches hard around his cock.
Conor comes with a bellow, gripping me tight as he pounds into me, burying himself deeper with each pulse.
Making me his.
“Conor,” I sob at the intense feeling, our flushed skin moving smoothly against each other through the aftermath of our orgasms, my name on his lips as he comes apart.
Mine.
