Fantasy is now reality.
And it’s overwhelmingly wonderful.
Nate reaches between us. I watch in amazement as he strokes himself. He licks his lips, which are red and swollen thanks to how hard we’ve been kissing. With a firm hand, he guides the head of his cock over my lips, my needy clit.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says lowly. Our heavy breaths mingle together, a cloud of hot air drowning the both of us. “You want this cock?”
There’s a dry patch at the back of my throat. As much as I hate his teasing, I also drink it up like champagne.
“Y-yes,” I stammer. “I want you in me, Nate.”
He grins at me, something possessive flashing over his eyes. “I want to hear you beg. You want this cock or not?”
“Please,” I whine. “Please, Nate. I want to feel you inside me. I want you to fuck me. Please, fuck me, Nate.”
“I don’t think you’ve been a good enough girl.”
“W-what?”
“I told you to come see me, and you didn’t. You waited things out, and now look at you.”
“N-Nate, please, I—” My hips buck involuntarily, hungrily searching for his dick.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I can’t remember the last time I’ve wanted someone this badly. It’s been literal years since I’ve even thought about sex. Dance occupies every waking second of my life, so I rarely even notice the urge to give in and let loose. It’s not like I haven’t had the opportunity. There were plenty of handsome dancers back at the ballet company in New York before my injury, and I’d had my fair share of men asking me out on dates. But ballet was and is my one and only obsession.
Maybe today, that list expands to include Nate.
“Please,” I practically sob. “Please, Nate. I can’t take it anymore.”
Nate lines himself up with my entrance and presses into me.
He’s excruciatingly slow.
And excruciatingly big.
The stretch is a bit uncomfortable, but not at all unwelcome. I’m so wet with want for him that Nate’s easily able to bury his hard cock into me all the way up to the hilt.
I bite back a moan. All I want to do is scream out and demand more, to order him to move. But I’m simultaneously thrilled and horrified at the chance of being caught.
Irresponsible. This is absolutely irresponsible.
And I don’t want to stop.
I like seeing Nate hovering over me. His weight against my frame is strangely comforting. Any anxiety I feel bubbling up in my stomach is immediately forgotten when Nate wraps me up in his arms, holding me tight.
Nate carefully pulls his cock out of me only to immediately snap his hips forward and drive right back in. It knocks the air out of my lungs. I choke on a gasp when Nate repeats the motion, thrusting into me fast and hard.
I dig my nails into his back in an attempt to keep steady. The exam table creaks in protest under our combined weight and movement. The head of Nate’s cock passes over my sweet spot again and again and again in a maddening display of precision and power. I’m vaguely aware that I’m saying something, a string of nonsense bubbling past my lips as Nate hurriedly buries himself between my legs.
Heat and tension build deep within my core, mixing together to create an intense pleasure like no other. Something electric sweeps through me, the tips of my fingers and toes tingling with delight.
“Nate,” I whimper, “Yes! Just like that. Right there.”
He silences me by capturing my mouth once more, his tongue delving deep to slide over my own. The taste of his lips reminds me of mint and gingerbread, an odd complement to his rich scent. Everything about him is grand and powerful—from his grip on my waist to the strength of his thrusts to his dominating presence.
The tight coil in the pit of my stomach builds in intensity, seemingly all at once and far too sudden. I’m left panting against him, my brain frantic for air as the threat of climax washes over me like a tsunami. A wave of pleasure floods my system. It’s so extreme that my mind whites out, and I momentarily forget that I’m supposed to be quiet.
I groan into Nate’s mouth, unable to control my volume any longer. The walls of my pussy pulse around his cock, every inch of my skin hot fire.
Exhaustion quickly follows. Common sense has left me. I cling to Nate as he continues to drill into me, searching for more of that sweet friction. As I slowly regain my composure, it dawns on me that Nate’s not finished.
He’s nowhere near done with me.
“Nate,” I gasp. “Slow down. Oh my god, please, I can’t—I don’t think I can take it anymore. I’m— I’ve already—”
He combs his fingers in my hair, which has come loose out of the bun I put it in earlier that morning. Nate licks his lips and smirks.