He kissed me, tugging my bottom lip inside his mouth and nipping on it with his teeth. “Tell me if you want me to slow down.” His hips rolled against me, and I sucked in a breath.
“No,” I said immediately, pushing my lingering questions off to the side. I could think about them later. “Fuck me. Please. Just fuck me.”
He squeezed my wrists, as if signaling his agreement, and began to move.
The first few deep thrusts felt strange. The stretching sensation intensified, and for a moment, I thought that maybe the pain had simply been delayed, but he kept going, and the tension began to morph into pleasure.
I arched my back, and he let go of my wrists, lifting me by the waist to change the angle at which we met.
That’s when I started to feel it.
“Oh God,” I moaned, scratching over the muscles on his back. “That’s good. That’s really good.”
A tension in his forehead eased, and he began to speed up, his dick disappearing inside of me right to the hilt. I looked between us and was relived to find no blood. I watched him take me, watched to see how well we’d joined.
Then his hand was on my ankle, and he swung my leg over his shoulder, changing the angle again, and I was seeing stars that were different than the ones in the sky.
“Jamie,” I whimpered.
He kissed the inside of my knee. “Say my name again.”
“Jamie. Jamie. Jamie,” I chanted as he hit that perfect spot over and over again. “Make me come again. For the love of God, make me come.”
He swore under his breath, found my clit with his thumb, and began to rub circles around it. My hips, my legs, my waist jerked up and down, as if they were conducting electricity, and then everything culminated, and I was breaking apart beneath him, my frenzied moans ringing through the air.
The tenor of his grunts changed a few seconds later. He pulled out of me, ripping the condom off and leaning over my chest. He pumped his dick with his hand, once, twice, thrice, and came in long spurts all over my breasts.
I volleyed my gaze between his release and his face, wanting to see how he looked in this moment, but also loving the sight of his cum on my skin. His gray eyes were hooded, his breath harsh and heavy, and if I’d thought he was beautiful before, I had no words to describe how he looked right then.
I drew my index finger through the sticky liquid and brought it to my lips. His mouth parted as he watched me taste him, his eyes glued to my face.
My finger left my mouth with a pop. “Thanks for the dessert.”
He groaned and pulled me into his chest, kissing my hair, my forehead, my eyes, and finally my mouth again. “You’re incredible,” he said between the kisses. “This was fucking incredible.”
I laughed, gripping his biceps and resting my forehead against his for a heartbeat. “I…should get cleaned up.”
He helped me up, staying behind to gather the food that still sat mostly untouched, and I made my way to the guest bathroom I was acquainted with.
Inside, I turned to Google. Apparently, some women’s hymens had less tissue to start with. Activities like biking, horseback riding, dancing, and a myriad of other things could also stretch it to the point where having sex for the first time would not hurt. I scrolled for a few minutes, drinking in the headlines, clicking into articles, with Jamie’s cum still on my chest.
The phone landed on the vanity with a dull thud. I turned on the water, wet a small face towel, and looked into the mirror to see my face and neck flushed. As I finally cleaned myself, a chuckle began to rumble in my chest before turning into an astonished laugh.
For more than two years I’d been saving something I didn’t have for a guy who hadn’t even wanted it.
The situation was ridiculous. Laughter kept sputtering out of my throat, and I cranked the water higher, hoping it would drown out the sounds so that Jamie wouldn’t hear anything. I threw the towel onto the counter and sat on the lid of the toilet, clamping a hand over my mouth as the laughter turned to hiccups and then to tears. I felt stupid. I’d grown up in a family with progressive and open-minded values, and yet I’d spent two years “saving myself” for Oliver? Why had that ever seemed so important?
Maybe because I’d thought it was important to him. He’d made me feel like my innocence was a big part of my appeal, and I’d been afraid to lose that. Without it, why would he ever choose me over the other women he could have?
Jamie’s guest bathroom wasn’t the best place for deep introspection, so I collected myself and dried my face. Closing up whatever buttons remained on my dress, I walked back out.
Jamie stood in the kitchen with his clothes back on, his hands on the counter. When he heard me emerge, his gaze swept up to my face. “You okay?”
“Yes,” I said, giving him a soft smile.
He walked around the island between us and gathered my face between his warm hands. Something inside of me unfurled in response, eager to be touched by him. I’d thought back to how I chanted his name and how wonderful it had felt rolling off my tongue.
That’s how things feel in the heat of the moment.
