My cock thickens in my pants at her words, and my brain starts shooting off in every imaginable direction, thinking she’s about to tell me some dirty fantasy she wants to enact. Whatever it is, I’m on fucking board. “Tell me anything.”
She tries to pull her hand away, but I clench it tighter, wanting the connection when she says whatever this is, holding her in place, close to me, though the table separates us.
“Zach, what we’ve been doing in the library . . . has been great. Better than great. But—”
Oh, shit. There’s a ‘but.’ I hadn’t considered this sentence was gonna have a ‘but’ in it.
“But I feel like I should tell you . . . I’m a virgin.” She lets out a whoosh of air with the whispered word, and it takes my brain a minute to process what she just said.
“A virgin?” I parrot back quietly, disbelieving. She looks down at the pizza, like she can’t meet my eyes. I use my free hand to tilt her chin up, locking her in place with my gaze. “All this sass, all this sexiness, all this mouthy brattiness . . . and you’ve never had a man inside you?” I ask, running my thumb along her full bottom lip. Her tongue peeks out to wet her lips and she catches the tip of my thumb too.
“Do you want me to be your first?” I ask, though my tone is more begging for the privilege.
“Fuck, yes,” Norma moans, the words breathy.
“Let’s go . . .” I say, standing up and taking her hand. Normally, I’d be the nice guy who clears our table, throwing the trash away and returning the tray. But today, I’ve got places to be. Namely, inside my Brat. Right the fuck now.
I drag her outside and around the corner of the building, a small concession to not fucking her up against the glass of the building’s front. Instead, I press her up against the brick, caging her in my arms and taking her mouth in a kiss.
Her hands grab my T-shirt, her nails digging slightly into my chest for a split second before she fists the fabric, holding me in place. “Fuck, Norma. I’m gonna fuck you right here in the quad if we don’t get out of here.”
She sputters as I press off the building, pulling her by the hand. “We can go to my apartment. It’s just off campus. We can even walk there.”
I shake my head. “Oh no, Norma. I’m fucking you at our place . . . the library.”
She argues the whole way there, and I let her rage and rile, knowing that once I get her there, she’ll want it just like that.
I go not to our usual corner but to a quiet study zone room on the third floor instead. She huffs as I press her to the closed door, her head turned so she can see me even with her cheek against the wood.
I’m running on instinct here, letting what I honestly feel is the right choice pour from my lips to her ear. “I’m fucking you here, Brat. In our place. Not some cheap hotel room or a frat party bedroom, and not your sweet, innocent bedroom at home. Not this time. You deserve your first time to be great, and I can give that to you, right here where we met, where we belong.”
“Someone’s gonna see us,” she pleads, even as she arches her back, rubbing her ass along the length of my cock. Her body is telling me exactly what she wants. It’s like she’s in a war between what she knows is the ‘right’ thing to do and what she really wants. What she wants every time we do something naughty here.
I grind against her, growling in her ear. “Listen to me. Just be quiet or cover your mouth if you have to, and no one will have a reason to come check the room.”
“Fuck . . . that feels good,” she whimpers as my hand cups her pussy.
“I can make your first time so good, Norma. Fill you up and rub your little clit until you come all around me.” I spin her around, yanking her shirt and bra off and pressing her bare back against the door. “So fucking pretty, Brat.” I dip down, taking her nipple into my mouth as I cup her tit, holding it up to my mouth.
The need is burning me up from the inside. We’ve been building up to this, day by day, conversation by conversation, touch by touch. And I can’t wait anymore.
I pull her over to the big library table, yanking her shorts and panties down in one swoop as she kicks her shoes off. “Up you go . . .” I tell her as I help her lie down. I pull my T-shirt over my head and reach for the button of my jeans. Norma makes a mewling sexy kitten sound and I look up.
She’s watching me, just as hungry as I am. I realize with a start that this is the first time I’ve seen her fully nude. I’ve pulled her shirt up and sucked her tits, I’ve spread her wide on a chair and eaten her out, and I’ve fingered her against more bookshelves than I can count.
But this is different. This is Norma, my Brat, spread wide and naked, every vulnerability exposed without armor, ready to take me for the first time. I take a mental snapshot of her writhing on the tabletop for me. It’s a fucking honor and I can’t wait. But she doesn’t want my sweet words right now. That’s not who she is, not who we are, at least not right now.
“You ready? You want to get fucked for the first time in the library, Norma? Behind a door that doesn’t lock. Anyone could just waltz right in here.” She bites her lip and tilts her head back, looking at the door upside down. I grab her ankles and pull her to the edge of the table, not sure it’ll hold us both. Her legs spread wide around my hips, and I finish unbuttoning my jeans, shoving them down, and then my boxer briefs follow.
I take my cock in hand, pumping the shaft a few times as she watches. “Say it,” I order her.
She grins, and I already can’t wait to hear what she’s gonna say. “Yes, Zach. I want you to fuck me, right here where anyone could walk by that tiny window in the door and see you balls-deep in my virgin pussy. You think you can handle that?” All sass and brattiness and challenge. I fucking love it.
I groan as pre-cum leaks from my tip at her words, and I use it to smooth my hand’s way up and down my rock-hard length. I tease my head along her clit, not entering her yet but wanting to feel some part of her pussy against my cock. “Just think . . . it’s dangerous, but it’s a rush, isn’t it?” She probably thinks I’m talking about the door. I’m really talking about her. She’s fucking dangerous as hell, a sweet little innocent wrapped up in a prickly, ball-busting brat who drives me insane.
I aim lower, letting her feel me right against her entrance, and freeze. I lock eyes with her, wanting to watch to make sure she’s okay with every bit of this. Her blue eyes shine back at me brightly, so I slide in ever so slowly. She’s so tight. It’s like nothing I’ve felt before, and I want to live buried in her pussy forever.
Just the head of my cock is in, but I pause, letting her get used to the feeling. Sex is like football. Sometimes, you need to no-huddle hurry up, but usually, it’s better to take that extra heartbeat to make sure things are just right before you throw the ball downfield. “It’s okay . . . do it. I’m so fucking ready, Zach,” she encourages me. Touchdown.
I pull back and thrust further, breaking her cherry and causing her to cry out, the pain muffled by her forearm as she tries her best to stay quiet. I hold still, letting her adjust until the pain washes away and I start thrusting again slowly.
It’s not only because she’s a virgin that I’m taking my time. It’s something else too. It’s the look in her eyes as she starts to fuck me back a little, the challenge and the vulnerability all tied up in one as my cock turns the pain into the pleasure that rolls through her as she realizes she’s taken a step that she can never retreat from. She gets more into it, thrusting with me, and her mouth drops open as my hips smack against hers and her pussy clenches around me.
“Oh, fuck, Zach,” she whispers. “You feel so good inside me.”
I look her in the eyes. “Norma, you feel good inside me too.” She gasps as she realizes the depth of my words, her hands clasping as she holds them to her chest. It almost looks like she’s praying, but the muffled sounds coming from her are more devilish than angelic.
I give her a hard stroke, holding deep inside her and grinding there for a second, then reach down to the floor
to grab her panties. No scarf right now, though I know there’s probably one in her bag, but I’m not leaving the glory of her pussy to get it. This will have to do. I take the silky scrap and wrap it around her wrists, feeding her hands through the leg holes. It’s not a perfect restraint, but it never is. It’s more the illusion of it that gets us both off.
Her fingers tangle and clasp again, the dark green of the panties bright against her fair and freckled skin, and she squeezes around me. It didn’t mean anything when I tied up her wrists that first time. It was just something I felt, but now it’s become one of our things, and it’s so fucking sexy when she gives herself over to it and to me.
Her sweet tightness is doing me in, and somehow, she finds the strength to keep pushing into me, encouraging me to fuck her harder and give her more.
I slip my thumb to her clit, swirling it in tight circles, and she bucks beneath me. I lay a hand on the table next to her head, leaning over to get an up-close view of the first time she comes on my cock. This is something that will only happen the first time once, and I’m not going to miss a bit of it. She moans, louder than usual, but I’m sure not going to tell her to be quiet. Instead, I tell her, “Say it, Brat. Tell me what you want.”
Her breath hitches, but her eyes are clear enough to meet mine. “Rub my clit, Zach. Fuck me hard until I come. I need to come before someone sees me.”
“I see you, Norma.” The words hang in the air a split second, and then she detonates all around me.
“Yes!” she rasps as her body convulses in waves. Her eyes roll back and her mouth opens in a silent scream. It’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.
My cock swells, and her tight pussy clenches around me one last time, pushing me over. “Fuck, Brat!” I fill her up, crashing with waves of white light as she milks me for every drop of cum before we both sag. I place a palm on either side of her head and bend down to sip at her lips softly. “You good?”
I feel her lips spread into a wide grin. “No, I’m fucking fantastic.” And then she giggles, that little girl sound I can pull from her every once in a while.
I agree with her. “Yeah, you are, Brat.”
Norma
Dear Diary,
I’m pretty sure I’ve met my match. I wore that virgin badge so proudly, certain that any guy able to match my bites wouldn’t stick around long enough to earn my cherry. Until Zach. Oh, yeah, I’d say I gave it to him, but it’s more like he took it from me. Although I was damn sure willing . . . willing to do it in a public place, willing to let him loop my panties around my wrists, willing to let him say filthy things to me and say some of my own back, willing to let him fill me with his cock and cum. All that . . . so fucking willing.
He seems pretty set on us actually dating too, not just the secret cover story. I’ll admit that I don’t fully trust that. His words seem heartfelt, but I just can’t believe that a guy like him wants someone like me.
But I’m playing along either way, dating or ‘dating’, and really tutoring him. He got the B he needed on his Idolatry in Paradise Lost paper, a B-plus, in fact. I think it was worthy of an A, but the professor probably wasn’t expecting A-quality work from him. Harsh but true.
He’s even been texting me pictures of him, full of sweaty workout hair and goofy grins with captions like ‘You wanna kiss now?’ I didn’t tell him that I’d happily kiss him when he’s all gross. I sent him back a picture of me holding my crinkled nose with a caption of ‘No thanks, stinky boy.’ But the teasing banter continues between us, sometimes juvenile, sometimes sexy, and sometimes sharp. I love every bit of it.
I’ve met my match.
The last notes of sunset are just disappearing into the horizon as I unlock my apartment door and head inside. Yeah, it’s Sunday, and yes, most people have a history of taking Sundays off.
Zach and I, though . . . well, it’s only been two Sundays, ten days since he took my virginity, but Sunday is already my favorite day of the week. Ten days . . . and he’s fucked me nearly every day possible.
The only days we’ve missed were this past Friday and Saturday, since he had an away game. But I watched the game, only the third football game I’ve ever watched that wasn’t a newspaper assignment, tuned in the whole time as Zach ripped apart the other team for five touchdowns. Sure, the other guys on the team helped, but I can tell he’s the glue that holds them together. A responsibility he’s told me he takes very seriously.
Today, after getting his text, we met up again . . . this time at the stadium, shortly after the team left from their post-game wrap-up. We reviewed class notes and how to structure an argumentative essay in the home team locker room before Zach pushed me up against the lockers and finger-fucked me while pinching and kneading my nipples.
We’ve yet to have sex in a ‘regular’ place. Besides the stadium, we’ve tried out many of the musty old parts of the library, and once in a closet while people walked by, oblivious to him thrusting his cock into me with his hand covering my mouth.
I keep thinking we’re going to get busted, that we should either stop this entirely or at least be a little more discreet. Maybe use my empty bedroom instead of hiding in the shadows of the library.
But every time he touches me, every moment we’re together, I’m unable to think about anything else. I’m willing to take any risk to be with him. Hell, the risk of being with him in those wild places is half the fun. Okay, maybe not half. It’s mostly fun because of Zach, but the chance of getting caught definitely adds to it.
He seems to be telling the truth about wanting us to really be a thing, though that’s still so hard for me to believe. I mean, the nerd and the jock? How fucking cliché is that? People would be more likely to believe it was some tutoring cover story than that we actually like each other and have things in common to talk about.
But the way his eyes light up when he sees me, the way he shares with me and the little things he does—like actually fucking study—tell me that this is real, that he sees me as more than just a fun fuck.
The thought warms my heart, and then I hear the ding of a reminder on my phone. Sunday evening . . . phone call time. I dig my phone out of my bag, plopping on the couch to call my big brother, Liam.
It rings a few times, then I hear the call connect before Liam’s voice rings out. “Norma Jean Blackstone, is that you? I thought something had happened to you since you haven’t called to bust my balls in so damn long.”
I grin. “Oh, my apologies, brother. You need me to insult you a bit? I’d be happy to oblige,” I tease, intending to start listing his faults in a humorous manner, but the words don’t come. And then I realize how soft of a lob he’s throwing me, and I laugh as I tell him, “Besides, isn’t it Arianna’s job to bust your balls now?”
Liam laughs a hearty chuckle. “That it is, little sis. And she does a fine job of keeping me in line, no worries there.”
“How is she? I haven’t seen her around, though I usually don’t since we don’t have any classes together,” I ask. Arianna is Liam’s secretary-slash-girlfriend and she attends classes at the university with me. But that’s where the similarities end. Arianna is stunning and made of steel, laser-sharp focused on business, and she somehow managed to actually fall in love with my arrogant brother.
“She’s doing well, settled into her fall class schedule and set up her work schedule accordingly. I think she wants to have dinner soon, just the three of us. Unless there’s a fourth you’d like to bring . . .” He lets the prying inquiry trail off.
“No . . . yes . . . well, kind of, I guess,” I say with a laugh. “I’m not sure. I am seeing someone, but I don’t know if we’re at a dinner with the family stage yet.”
I hear a crackle of leather and I can visualize Liam sitting down on the couch, probably shocked at my words. I’m not exactly a frequent dater so my admission is tantamount to telling him I’m nominated for a Pulitzer.
“My baby sister is growing up. I’m so proud of you, Norma Jean.” His voice is pu
re sarcasm, much like mine usually is, but the sentiment is real, just like mine usually is too.
“Thanks, Liam. Your CEO-intern love story was rather inspirational and made me open to finding my true love. Just think how many relationships the Hallmark movie of your and Arianna’s taboo affair will inspire.” I’m totally full of shit about the movie, but they really did have a hard time at the office when their relationship came out. That seems to have settled down now, though, and I’m glad for them.
“Ha-ha, but if you tell Arianna that, she’d probably love it. She’s a hopeless romantic. So, speaking of romance, what’s the unlucky bastard’s name?” His tone is casual, the insult smooth as silk, but I’m not a newbie to his games.
“Nice try, but I’m not telling you his name so you can run a background check on him. He’s fine, I swear.” I roll my eyes at his overprotectiveness, but I secretly love that Liam wants to protect me. I’d never let him know that though. “Besides, if he wasn’t fine, I’d cut him off at the dick long before you’d get your chance.”
Liam hisses through the phone. “Please, for the love of fuck, Norma . . . I do not want to hear you use the word dick. You’re my baby sister and I remember when you were a cute little thing on the couch, watching cartoons. I can’t handle you and . . . dicks.”
It’s a reasonable request, so I blatantly ignore it. “Why, Liam, if you don’t like me saying ‘dick’, how about ‘cock’ or ‘pussy’ or—gasp—what about ‘cunt’? He starts singing in my ear, la la la la la la, and I laugh. “Okay, okay, I’m done. Promise.” I enjoy when we can have these little moments of childishness again because it reminds me of how close Liam and I have always been.
There was a rough patch for a while when Liam was finishing college and our dad made the mistake of telling Liam that he wasn’t going to bring him up in the family business. Well, I’m not sure of the exact wording because I was still in elementary school, but basically, their relationship, which had already been tenuous, imploded. They rarely talk anymore, though I know Dad is proud of Liam’s success. But even then, when Liam was refusing Dad’s calls, he’d hang out with me, his whiny kid half-sister. He even chose to deal with my mom, his stepmother, to pick me up instead of coordinating it through Dad. Whatever their drama, we’ve always made it a priority to not let it affect our relationship, and that’s something I’m thankful for.
The Virgin Diaries: The Complete Series Page 30