I nod.
Lifting my hand, I crook my finger and beckon her to me. “You need it, amore mio. You want me to have all of your firsts, don’t you?”
We both know it’s not really a question, but she tugs at her sexy lower lip with her teeth like she’s trying to figure out an answer.
“Are you hungry?” I ask, needing to know if I should make breakfast now or later.
“No,” she whispers.
“Okay. Then why are you all the way over there and not here getting what you need?” I ask her.
Her first shuffling step toward me feels like a victory I didn’t know I needed. It takes her almost a full minute, but by the time she’s beside me, close enough to touch, I feel like I just won the lottery, an Oscar, and an unlimited supply of wishes on a magic lamp all at once.
“You’re perfect. Now let’s get you out of these clothes and back where you belong,” I coo, unfastening her ugly shorts and watching them fall to the floor at her feet.
SIXTEEN
VERITY
I’m not sure how it happens but instead of being downstairs, making Warrick food rather than letting him serve me like it’s his job and life purpose, I’m standing in front of him, letting him tug my shirt up and over my head until I’m only wearing my old and graying bra and equally unattractive panties.
But he isn’t looking at me like I’m a disaster. His gaze devours me like I’m a melting popsicle on the hottest day of the year.
I lost my virginity yesterday, gave my first blow job, and was the recipient of so many orgasms I lost count. Today it’s definitely my turn to show him I have some value to offer to this relationship and that I don’t need to be taken care of like I’m incapable.
But when he reaches for me, I don’t step back. I let him unfasten my bra and slip my crappy panties down my legs. I let him drag me onto the mattress and beneath him again. Then I let him shuffle down my body until his face is level with my pussy, that’s dripping and excited to see him.
“Look at you, amore mio. Why get out of bed when you’re this needy?” he coos, his voice liquid aphrodisiac.
“I wanted,” I start, but he places a finger over my lips and silences me.
“I know what youneed.”
His fingers part me, and his tongue lasers in on my clit like it has a homing beacon. The sounds that come from my lips barely sound human, but I feel it vibrate through me. An animalistic need that I didn’t know existed until literally this second.
I tense, expecting it to hurt when he carefully slips one, then two fingers inside of me, but instead of pain, there’s only a lingering soreness that is almost immediately overridden by the jolt of pleasure I feel.
In the past twenty years while my libido was locked down tighter than a bank vault, I had no idea just how wet my sex could get. But after only seconds of him touching me, I can already feel my arousal dripping down my ass, as the sound of my body eagerly accepting his fingers becomes our soundtrack.
A heady scent of excitement, anticipation, and my own body’s desperation quickly saturates the air, while he licks at my clit with his tongue and fills me with his fingers. Tensing when he withdraws his fingers from inside of me, I go rigid when he slips his soaked hand further down my body until he’s using my own desire to coat my only remaining first.
Until I met Warrick, sex wasn’t on my radar, and anal sex was just something the girls at the club charged double for. I never imagined myself ever doing it, let alone having a deep-seated desire to gift that part of my body to anyone.
But there’s something about the man who is carefully teasing my hole with his fingertip that makes me feel like I need to do this. Like giving him this part of me will settle something inside me. No, it’s more than that. I want to gift him this, because so far, he’s given me everything, and I’m all I have to offer in return.
A part of me wonders if that’s wrong, if it’s transactional, like I’m bartering myself for his kindness and affection. But as Iconsider if that’s what I’m doing, that feels wrong too. Warrick cares for me. He wants me. He wants to do things for me. He’s been open and honest and unapologetic about how he feels about me, and while I’m not sure what this is between us, I can do this for him. I can give him this. Because so far, that’s all he’s asked of me.
“Relax, amore mio, let me make you gush for me,” he coaxes, teasing my ass with two fingers while he uses his other hand to push a single finger into my sex. Still teasing my clit with his tongue, my body lights up like fireworks on the Fourth of July have detonated inside of me. I don’t have time to process what’s happening as he slips a finger past the tight ring of muscle I hadn’t noticed he was softening.
The invasion of his finger in my ass feels foreign, but I don’t have time to explore the sensation, because he slides a second finger to join the first inside my sex, igniting a rush of liquid to seep out of me as my body starts to tingle.
“So wet, so fucking perfect,” he praises, making me groan as he works my ass wide enough to slide another finger in alongside the first.
My body feels stretched beyond capacity. With two fingers in my sex and two in my ass, I can barely breathe, my chest heaving in short pants that leave me incapable of making anything but grunted whines and moans.
Withdrawing the fingers in my sex until only the tips are stretching me, his fingers in my ass start to move, slowly pushing deeper, twisting and widening until a guttural whimper falls from my parted lips. If I was more aware, I’d probably be impressed with his ability to multitask, because while his tongue is lapping a drugging rhythm, his fingers work in opposition; the fingers in my pussy pushing deep, while the ones in my ass retreat. In and out, he alternates, filling my ass, then my pussy,while his tongue flicks and licks me, keeping my body in a constant state of excitement.
My hips rock, asking for more that I don’t fully understand, but that he seems to get, as his whispered praise becomes dirty promises.
