To my mother.
It’s sick how involved she is in my life.
“I do want it. With you.” I tug on the chain again, our mouths melting together, our tongues tangling. Stroking. Stoking the fire that always burns within me when I’m with this boy.
Man. He’s a man now. And I’m an engaged woman.
About to fuck someone who is not my future husband.
I stroke his cock, and he slowly thrusts it against my palm, groaning into my mouth. My body feels empty, my inner walls clenching around nothing. For once, I just want to know what it’s like. Whathefeels like inside of me. Fingers aren’t enough. His mouth—while absolutely divine—isn’t enough.
I need more.
“Let me grab a condom.” He leans over me, reaching for the nightstand, pulling the drawer open. I try not to think of Spencer with other girls, but I can’t help it.
He keeps condoms in his bedside table. How many girls has he brought to this apartment? How many girls has he fucked? We’ve never had a spoken commitment, yet we’re continuously drawn to each other. We weave in and out of each other’s lives constantly. I’ve gone months without seeing him.
I can have no expectations. No demands. It’s not my right, despite how much I care about him.
Care is not a good enough word. I love Spencer. I do. I just can’t work up the courage to say the word out loud.
“We don’t need a condom. I’m on the pill.” I’m testing him to see if he says he should wear one because he’s been with others, but he doesn’t say anything.
Not at first.
“What do you mean, you’re on the pill?” His gaze is questioning when it finds mine.
“I thought it best to be prepared.”
“And how long have you been prepared?”
I lift one shoulder, playing nonchalant. “Don’t worry about it.”
His gaze is steady—and too intense. I finally look away from him, swallowing hard. If he rejects me right now…
I don’t know what I’ll do.
But he doesn’t. Of course, he doesn’t. He has me spread open beneath him, ready and willing. He can’t turn me away.
Instead, he shuts the drawer and resumes his position over me, rising up on his knees, his fingers wrapped around the base of his erection. He strokes himself, my mouth growing dry the longer I watch, and I realize I’m running out of time.
I need him to do this. Now.
Spreading my legs, I show him everything I have. His gaze drops, naturally. Zeroed in on glistening rose-colored flesh. I reach between my legs and stroke myself, the wet sounds making me wetter. “Please,” I whisper.
I never beg. From the look on his face, he knows it.
“I want you inside me.”
He strokes himself some more, his cock red. Almost angry looking.
“Please, Spence.” I close my eyes, whimpering. “I need you.”
Without hesitation, he looms over me, guiding his cock inside my willing body. I inhale the moment I feel him breach the entrance, my thighs stiffening, my entire body going rigid.
All willingness leaves me, fear replacing it completely.
“Relax,” he whispers, his mouth against mine, just before he steals it for a long, tongue-filled kiss. The longer he does that, the easier it is for me to do as he says and relax. I begin to realize he’s filling me, inch by unbearable inch, stealing my breath the farther he slips in, until his cock is fully inside my body.