“You feel so good,” she murmurs, and when I pull back to look at her, her eyes are lidded, her lips swollen from kissing, face flushed, chest rising and falling rapidly. “Dane—will you? I want you to?—”
Lucy grinds down against my cock again, letting out a sound of raw, unbridled need, and my resolve fully breaks. Lifting both of us, I slide my pants down, then reach under her skirt and grab her panties, finding them damp.
“Lucy,” I grind out, desperately trying to think clearly through the lust and desire pounding through my veins. My cock is free now and standing at attention between us.
“Mhm?” she asks, her mouth working on my neck.
“I’m going to hold onto you,” I say, voice barely above a rumble. “Lean back and reach into the front pocket of my bag.”
Instantly, she does as I say, and I let out a lowgood girlthat makes her shiver. I hold tight to her hips as she leans back, then returns to me with a single, gold-wrapped condom. Lucy is breathing hard, her attention shifting from the condom and to me, then down to my cock, pre-cum already leaking out.
Her pupils are blown out, her hair already wild over her shoulders, and she’s staring at my cock like she’s never seen one before in her life.
I should take that as a compliment, I suppose.
Pulling one hand away from her hip, I slide it between her legs again, flicking my thumb over her clit. She drops her forehead against my shoulder and lets out a shuddering breath.
“You’re going to put it on me,” I say, and she shivers again, before pulling back and opening it—not with her teeth, but just with her fingers. Nothing flashy.
With the condom between us, this should be a moment of reckoning, a chance for me to come to my senses. But, if anything, seeing the condom solidifies for me that it’s happening, and my cock pulses harder.
Lucy pulls back, considers me for a moment, then swallows and lowers the condom down, unrolling it slowly, almostpainfully slow, over my aching cock. I watch her hand, biting my tongue, hips jerking once with impatience when she gets to the base.
When she’s finished, she looks up at me, swallows, and whispers, almost pleadingly, “Dane.”
I’m tired of waiting, tired of holding back, so I take her hips in my hands again, lean back against my chair slightly, and guide her down onto my shaft.
Only to discover she’s tighter than any other woman I’ve ever been with, squeezing down so firmly on my cock that I take my hands off her hips like they’ve burned me, eyes flying up to meet her heated gaze.
There’s a strange cocktail of emotions there—terror, excitement, pleasure, pain, desire—all plain on her face, washed out and wide open for me to see.
“Lucy,” I grunt, breathing hard, trying to talk as she sinks an inch deeper onto me, my eyes shutting against the urge to flip her over and drive all the way inside. I have to think, have to let logical thought back in—especially now that I’m realizing her inexperience might be with a lot more than just sex toys. “Are you a virgin?”
Chapter 10
Lucy
This feels like the breathless, dizzying moment right at the top of a roller coaster, except right now I have about half of Dane Rourke’s cock inside me, and he’s stopped the ride to ask me if I’m a virgin.
I want to laugh, to sputter out, “Not anymore,” but it occurs to me, suddenly, that he might want to know. That this might be important information to this man twice my age, with twice my experience, if the woman he’s about to have sex with has never actually done this before.
A wave of desperate panic rolls through me, and I want to grip onto him, promise him that I’ll do whatever he wants, that I can make it good for him if he keeps going, that my inexperience doesn’t have to mean it will be a bad time for him.
Dane deserves the truth, though, and so I say, simply, and in a small voice, “Yes.”
He’s completely still, but I can feel his heart thundering in his chest, his hands shaking on my hips, his restraint evident in the clutch of his muscles around me. I want to move—want, more than anything, to keep sinking down onto his dick, but it’s stretching inside me, pleasure just to the point of pain, and I’m still.
“Fuck,” he says, equal parts lust and frustration. He lets out a breath, runs his hands up and down my back. “We’re going to have to go slow, Lucy.”
“Okay,” I breathe, shoulders relaxing slightly, my muscles easing. This is something I’m used to—Dane telling me what to do. When I relax, I’m able to take another inch of him, and he grips onto me tightly, lowering his forehead to my shoulder and murmuring expletives. His hips twitch, and it’s the knowledge of his desire, more than anything else, that sends another wave of need through me, which makes me tighten around him even more.
It’s a closed loop—when Dane touches me or moves, I tighten up around his cock, which gets a reaction out of him, and we have to start all over again, clutching at each other and breathing hard, him trying to help me relax.
Finally—after what feels like forever—I settle down on him, legs shaking, as I’m fully seated, his entire length inside me. I feel like I’ve done a full workout, and, on top of that, this entire exercise has done nothing but made me need him even more.
It turns out unmoving pressure isn’t quite enough to scratch the itch that’s coiled up inside of me.
Dane brushes my hair out of my face, voice a rumble. “Are you okay?”
