"Can I see …" She gestures vaguely downward, and I feel every drop of blood in my body change direction.
"Yeah. If you want."
I stand. Thumbs in the waistband. Hesitate. "Fair warning, I'm not snipped. Some women think it’s weird looking.”
"I've seen uncircumcised penises, Bernard. I'm a nurse."
"Right. Clinical context. This is?—"
"Different. I know." She looks at me steadily, expectant, and I push my sweatpants and boxers down and stand there under Ella Rujkowski's gaze, somehow the most vulnerable I have felt in my entire life, including every locker room and every doctor's office and every time I've been naked in front of another human being.
She looks. Really studies, with the focused attention she gives everything, and her lips part and she says, "Oh."
"Good oh or…"
She swallows. "You're … proportional."
"Proportional?”
"To the rest of you. Which is very large."
I feel my face split into a grin I couldn't suppress if Coach himself were standing behind me. "Ella Rujkowski, you like my big cock?”
"It was an anatomical observation." But she blushes, and smiles, and looks at me like I'm a specimen she'd very much like to study further, and I'm so hard it actually hurts.
I sit back down beside her, both of us stripped — me fully, her from the waist up — and pull a blanket across my lap because I need to focus, and that's impossible while she's sneaking glances at my dick.
"Today's about you," I tell her. "I want to make you feel good so you know what you like. Can I?"
"Yes."
I lay her back and settle next to her, leaning over her but not giving her my full weight because she’s right. I’m big as fuck. I kiss her, slow at first, the way I know she likes, then deeper when she pulls at me. I kiss her jaw, her neck, the hollow of her throat where her pulse hammers.
I kiss her collarbone, and she sighs. I kiss lower. She holds her breath. I close my mouth over her nipple, and she arches off the mattress with a sound that rewires my brain entirely.
I take my time. There is nothing in the world more important than this — the way she responds, the sounds I'm learning, the map of her body I'm drawing with my mouth. She's responsive in a way that tells me everything about the kind of lover she'll be: present, unguarded, honest in her body even when she's guarded everywhere else.
Her boobs are my fantasy of what perfect boobs should look and feel like. Everything about them lights me up inside. But I’m supposed to be showing her what feels good.
My hand slides down her stomach, over the soft curve of her belly, to the waistband of her shorts. I pause with my hand on a set of silvery stretch marks that match the ones on my own hips where I bulked up long ago. "Okay?"
"Please."
“So, basically, this is like the bare minimum you should expect from a guy you’re with.” The thought of another man doing this with her tenses all the muscles in my neck. But I’m teaching here. “You need to be hearing how perfect you look. How incredible your body feels.”
“It does?” Her eyes are so big and confused, like she somehow doesn’t know what she looks like.
I swallow. “It really does.” I slip my hand beneath the fabric. When I touch her mound, she makes a sound I will remember for the rest of my life — half gasp, half moan, a crack in everything she holds together — and her hand flies to my wrist. Not to stop me. To hold me there.
"Tell me what feels good," I murmur against her neck.
"That. That feels...” she pauses, swallowing a breath, “Bernard, oh my god."
I keep my finger where she wants it, circling slowly. I find the right pressure, the right place, guided by the grip of her hand on my wrist and the pitch of her breathing and the way her hips move in these small, desperate circles that are absolutely wrecking me.
She has no idea how hot it is that she’s guiding me instinctively, asking so clearly for what she wants and needs. I'm hard against her thigh, and I ignore it completely because this is about her, only her, and I want this to be so good she never forgets it.
"I'm…something's…" Her voice is tight, climbing, eyes wide and glistening, so bright.
