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Back to this moment, right now. I take a deep breath and breathe in his scent. It’s clean, and woodsy. It’s all Bart.

“What does that mean?” I ask, finally pulling away from him.

“I think you know what it means, Arabella,” he says, his voice thick.

“I really don’t. I wouldn’t have asked if I did,” I say, giggling.

“Your smell,” he says simply.

“I smell?” I ask, lifting my arm and checking my pits. It’s not sexy, but I had to check, right?

“I didn’t say you smell bad. You smell like sunshine and sin.” His simple answer makes me smile.

“I see,” I reply coolly, but I am definitely freaking out on the inside.

“What’s with that look?” he asks.

“Nothing,” I say.

“Liar. Did you think I forgot?” he asks. The smoldering look he gives me makes me wet.

“No?” I question.

“You did think that, but I could never forget your birthday. Like a fucking creeper, I’ve been counting down to this fucking day. Happy eighteenth birthday, Tiny Dancer,” he growls, then he pulls me closer to him. He grabs my face in his strong hands and kisses me.

I forget how to breathe as the kiss goes on and on. My first kiss is everything I dreamed of and more. I wrap my arms around his waist and that’s when he deepens the kiss, his tongue dancing with mine. I lose track of everything. Withdrawing from the kiss, he leads me to a doorway. Pushing it open, I find us in a hallway that has two elevators. Pulling a key out of his pocket he turns it in one of the elevators. The doors open and we get inside.

Once inside, our kiss resumes like something out of a movie. I allow it, getting more and more turned on that someone could be watching us through what I'm sure is a security camera. He kneels before me making me feel like a goddess. Running his fingers slowly, deliberately, and erotically up my legs, he stops when he reaches the lace edge of my black panties.

Using his thumbs, he slides them down my legs slowly tossing them aside. Standing, he lifts me in his arms, my legs wrapped around his waist, my skirt rises higher to my waist. I'm so wet, I know he can see it.

Using my hands like I know what I'm doing I fumble with his belt opening it pulling his huge hard cock out. I gasp loudly. Using the bit of precum at the tip, I stroke him until he groans and moves my hand away from him. Gripping it at the base, he lines it up with my little wet pussyhole and drags himself through my wetness.

“Are you always this wet? Or is it just for me?” he demands.

“Just you,” I say honestly.

“You are so fucking beautiful, Arabella,” he murmurs while kissing my neck. He surges forward, breaking my cherry. His eyes pop up to mine. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he grunts, stopping his movements.

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop. Please,” I beg shamelessly.

“I’m never stopping, don’t worry.”

I am dying to come all over him, but he’s controlling my orgasm expertly. I don’t want to think about why he’s so good at this.

“Good,” I pant. My back is slamming against the wall of the elevator, and I love it.

“Never gonna stop fucking you,” he growls, kissing me roughly.

“I can live with that,” I scream. I come with my nails digging into his back. Mere seconds later he fills my unprotected pussy with his seed. I feel rope after rope of him hitting my womb. I can’t believe we didn’t use any kind of protection, but oh my god, I am so okay with that. I just hope he is. He sets me down gently and I adjust my dress while he tucks himself back into his pants.

“Damn,” he says, pulling me back to him for a soul-searing kiss.

“Wow. Is, um, it always like that?” I ask when we pull apart.

“I wouldn’t know, Tiny Dancer. I’ve only ever been with you, and that’s just the way I plan to keep it,” he says like it’s a foregone conclusion that I want to be with him always. Fuck, is written on my face or something?

Yeah, it probably is.

TWO

BART

I am grown ass man with a good job outside of the family business, not that I don’t participate there too, but I’ve known what I wanted out of life for many years. I just never thought I’d find her. I was thirty-eight when I met her. At almost forty, I should know better, I should have left her alone to find a guy her own age, but that just isn’t me.

There is no earthly reason that a woman as beautiful as her would be a virgin but thank fuck she was. She’s all mine. She was mine when I found her and she’s really mine, finally mine now. She runs her fingertips lightly down the wall as she goes down the hallway in my crappy little apartment. Her ass sways like a bullseye as I follow her. Fuck, I know in this moment that I’ll follow her anywhere, anytime.


Tags: M.K. Moore Romance