“How good does that look?”
I’m not sure he needs an answer, but I’m inclined to give him one. “So good.” Except for the giant purple hickey-bruise I’m pretending Alex put there with his mouth.
He lowers me slowly, filling me again. “I know, eh?”
His eyes are hooded, and he wears a blissful, sexy smile. I hold onto his shoulders, debating whether I want to watch his pretty face or what’s happening from the waist down. He rids me of either option when he buries his face between my boobs on the next upward stroke.
“I can’t believe how good this feels,” he says, his voice slightly muffled.
“I’m pretty sure I can.”
“I’ve never had sex without a condom.”
“Never?”
“Not once.”
“Wow. This must feel really good, then.”
“I can’t describe—” He kisses one of my nipples. “Have you?”
“What?” He hits the spot that makes me see stars and constellations.
“Had sex without a condom?”
He changes things up and starts a very stimulating rocking motion. If he stops asking me questions about my past sexual experiences, I’ll come soon.
How the hell do I answer? Yes, I have, with a previous long-term boyfriend. We dated for a year, and he was my last serious relationship prior to the hockey jerk. No one wants to hear that while they’re doing it. Sex talk should consist primarily of phrases such as: more, fuck me, go harder, right there, please, yes, and I’m coming.
I’m putting an end to the conversational sex and making it moaning sex instead. I respond with one of the preapproved phrases, “It feels unbelievable. Go harder. Please, Alex.” I’m quite genuine, despite how clichéd it sounds.
It has the desired effect. A low rumble comes from deep within his chest and he lifts me up, until I’m almost empty and slams me down. It’s incredible. Spectacular even.
“How’s this, baby? You want faster, too?”
“Uh-huh.”
This new, hard, intense rhythm sends me straight to the abyss. I grab onto his hair, prompting Alex to increase his speed and vigor. Then he has to go and suck on my nipple like the boob-loving hockey-stud-former-player he is. He releases it on the next downward stroke. It’s all I can take. The world turns into a starburst of black and white as I try to shove my face in his neck and stifle my love sounds.
“Eyes on me, baby. Please.” Alex’s lips press against my temple. “I wanna see your gorgeous face when you come for me.”
Despite the blur of monochromatic fireworks clouding my vision, I can’t deny him when he’s being so polite.
I’m caught in the fire of his gaze. His fingers tighten on my hips as he thrusts hard. There’s no break in the spiral of sensation. It’s a blessing and a curse; once I’ve come, I’m like a leaky faucet—I just keep coming. The waning orgasm reignites, returning to a full force burn.
“Violet, you’re gonna make me—”
I’m so out of it I scream, “I love you,” hastily tacking on, “monster cock,” at the end.
Shitballs. Where the hell’s my filter when I need it the most?VIOLETOrgasm high or not, I sure as shit know I said something I shouldn’t have.
Thankfully, Alex is currently riding his own rocket into orgasm outer space. I hope it’s enough of a distraction that he missed my accidental declaration. His jaw is clenched tight, lips curled in an almost-sneer, eyes cloudy, lids at half-mast. He thrusts one last time and then all the tension evaporates and his body goes lax.
He blinks slowly, his hands resting loosely on my hips. “What’d you say?”
So much for being distracted. “Nothing.” I draw a circle around his nipple with my nail.
“Bullshit.”
I’m not in love with him. This is only our first official date. Aside from almost a month’s worth of emails, texts, and a few interesting phone calls, plus a slew of unexpected gifts, I don’t know him well. I am inclined, however, to erect a shrine to his amazing super cock. I may even take up pottery or glass blowing so I can create perfect replicas and showcase them like he does his trophies.
“I wasn’t talking to you.” I bite his shoulder to avoid eye contact. I’m sure my face is a blotchy shade of bright red.
“Oh no?” He’s still moving me over him. It’s slow and torturous and oh so delicious. Every slow circle of his hips hits my special spot from the inside. A tiny, baby-size orgasm prevents speech. Sagging against him, I shudder with the sensation. How he’s magically hard after coming is beyond me.
“You’re an orgasm machine.”
“That’s why I was thanking the monster cock. It’s all him.”
“You do realize my dick is attached to me, eh?”
“This from a man who addressed a gift certificate to my boobs?”
“Can you blame me?” He cups them gently. “They’re pretty damn fantastic.”
“They appreciate the compliment.”
I can’t believe I’ve managed to talk my way out of my own stupidity.