Perfect. Tight. Beautiful. Sexy.
“Mmm.” I arch my back into it, loving the way it feels. Realizing at this moment we are going to do it. Do it, as in: the deed. Sex. The nasty. Bang, screw, fuck.
Yup, we are doing it, and I am NOT STOPPING IT.
Between my legs, the tip of his hard cock presses, creating friction despite not being inside me. It’s plump and hot and I want it bad.
“Before we go any further, we should probably…” find a condom. I have some in my nightstand, but I’m afraid to tell him that, worried he’ll judge me—but wanting to be safe.
Without being prompted, Trace half rolls toward the bedside table and yanks open the drawer, digs into the box that only has one missing, and pulls out a rubber. He doesn’t question it and I don’t remark on it, and before I know it, he’s sliding it on.
It’s weird watching that part—usually. Watching him do it, though? My mouth waters at the sight, knowing that stiff, hard dick is going to be inside me soon, and my heartbeat quickens.
I want it so bad.
He kisses me and our tongues meet. Mmm, I could do this all day, latching onto his mouth, savoring how sweet he tastes. Then. He’s hovering above me. Positioning himself.
I’m wet, so it goes in easy—just the tip. He teases me with it until my head is thrashing on the pillow and I’m no longer amused. I want to be fucked, good and hard, and I’m tired of waiting.
“Fuck me already,” I blurt out impatiently, too horned up to be ashamed of my outburst.
“You like that, baby?” His voice dips as he pushes deeper, talking dirty. “I’m gonna fuck you good.”
Fuck me good? Oh lord. Maybe I’m out of my league here.
Maybe I’m not ready for what he’s got to give.
Maybe his dick will be too big and won’t even fi—
It fits. I was wrong.
Latex-covered perfection, sliding all the way in. I moan, tipping my head back, almost certain my mouth is hanging open with wonder.
This is my sex face and there’s no hiding it now.
Trace doesn’t fuck me as hard as I’m expecting him to, considering all the trash talk he’s been doing, but rather methodically. Slowly. Each thrust measured as if calculated specifically to hit the erogenous zones in my vagina.
He’s so good at it.
It feels so good.
Good, good, good. My brain still won’t work.
“Beautiful,” he mutters, pumping into me. “You want to be on top?” he asks.
“No.” I shake my head. “I want to watch you fuck me.”
Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.
“Shit, Hollis…God you feel amazing…” His body is low, not crushing mine but pressing against me, like he’s doing planks for abs but having sex at the same time? Mouth near my ear, moaning and groaning.
I could listen to a tape of him screwing me and get off from it, I swear.
My hands grip his ass, which isn’t easy because he’s so much taller than I am.
It’s heaven.
And as I come, a little part inside me cannot help thinking that perhaps…just maybe…he was meant for me.
“Can I tell you something and you promise you won’t laugh?”
I can’t make him a promise like that; Trace is hilarious and is always managing to make me laugh. He can’t help it—he’s funny and irresistible.
We’re both staring at the ceiling in my dark bedroom, on our backs, and it’s hard to believe we’re lying here, fingers intertwined. Two lovebirds basking in the afterglow.
“Of course. You can tell me anything.”
“Do you believe in…” Trace clears his throat then hastens to add, “Never mind. It’s stupid.”
I turn to face him, though I can’t really see him that well in the dark, wanting to know what he was about to say. Give his hand a jostle. “What? You can say it—I won’t judge you.”
“I’m too embarrassed now,” he says lightly. I feel him tug the blanket up to his chin and hide. “Don’t look at me.”
“Oh come on! You have to tell me now that you’ve brought it up—don’t give me information blue balls.”
He’s still under the blanket like a weirdo. “I’m shy.”
“Oh my god, you are not shy. You’re the least shy human I know.”
“I have stage fright.”
I sputter out a laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”
There’s something fantastic about laughing while you’re naked, being vulnerable with someone you just had sex with, and this moment will live with me forever—no matter what happens between the two of us. It is too cute and unforgettable.
He’s being sweet.
I want to smush his cute face and coax out of him what he’s too embarrassed to say.
I desperately want him to talk.
I try to be patient.
Wait him out.
“I hate rejection.” The words are spoken quietly—so softly I have to strain to hear them.
“I think we all do.”
“Hollis, I need you to know something,” he says out of the dim lighting. “I’m not playing games with you.”