by Karen Ferry
Her arms are supporting her upper body, her long legs up and bent at the knees while her feet rest on the grey bedding underneath her. I glance down and lick my lips at the way her rosy nipples pucker. Despite the pleasure she’s already experienced at my hand, she still wants me.
Pulse pounding hard, her eyes are on mine as I walk back towards her.
I bent down to kiss her navel, needing another taste of her creamy-white skin. I unfold the towel in my hands and put it on the bed, resting it close to her arse.
“Up,” I whisper hoarsely and press in.
She lifts her lower body, and I groan when her pussy comes close to my mouth. I can’t deny myself another long, slow lick.
“Fin!” she gasps loudly as I flick her clit one last time. I straighten my back and reach behind my neck, pulling at my shirt. I toss it to the floor, my abs rippling when she licks her lips.
“Like what you see, sweetheart?” I tease her.
She seems struck mute but nods.
My fingers tremble as I make quick work of removing my shoes and socks before I unbutton my jeans. I try to tell her with my eyes how she makes me feel – nervous, turned on, and desperate for her all at the same time. Her eyes are rapt on my fingers as I push down my jeans, taking my boxers along with them, and my cock springs free. I feel the heartbeats increase against my chest, pounding like a staccato as she stares at the way juts out. I run my hand up and down my length, unashamed and needing her to see the effect she has on me. When her eyes grow hooded and she bites her lower lip, my cockhead bobs.
Enough teasing.
I take a step closer and bend in my knees, my hands running a hot trail up her legs, widening them for me. The closer I get to her face, the harder I get at the rapt way she blatantly checks my out.
My lips find hers in a languid, wet kiss, and as I give her my everything, I can feel her melting down into the mattress. I follow her down as she leans back, unable to lose the taste of her, while I grabble for my wallet. I try not to crush her with my weight, so I lean to the side, most of my upper body resting on my lower arm. Her small fingers explore my torso, making me shudder as she tugs at the hair on my chest. She jerks once and I lose her mouth as she lowers her head to look down her body. I follow her line of sight, my breath clogging in my lungs as she touches the drop of cum I’ve leaked. She rubs it on her skin, as if she’s mesmerised, and I watch alongside her.
I can’t take it anymore. I have to have her. I have to claim her.
“I’m going to take you now.” I open my wallet and find the condom, bringing it to her face. “Put it on me. Feel how much I ache for you.”
The trust I see shining in her eyes is almost more than I can bear. She raises her head to kiss me softly before she takes the condom from me. I’m in awe of this girl – no, this woman. She’s no girl. In quick movements, she tears the wrapping and I guide her hand down to my cock, needing to touch her while she puts it on.
“Like this,” I murmur as we roll it down my length. I grit my teeth when her unsure fingers touch me, shuddering as she tests out the feel of me. Groaning, I lay down on my back and enjoy her exploration of my body.
“Stop, sweetheart,” I beg and quickly reach for her, my muscles almost screaming when I lift her up and back to sitting astride me. “I’m not as strong-willed as you take me for.”
She smiles down at me, a secretive and, dare I say it, triumphant look in her eyes.
Slowly, I run my hand down her spine, scraping my nails lightly against her breasts in the process. I relish the way she squirms at my touch until I rest my hands on her butt – fuck, how I love her arse. I pull her down until the length of her fits perfectly to every part of mine and gaze into her eyes.
“Kiss me,” I whisper.
She doesn’t hesitate, and I fucking love her for it. She nibbles on my lips, teasing me, until I feel my eyes roll to the back of my head from the pleasure of her passion. I reach further down between her legs, spreading them wide and up to my sides, until I run a finger through her slit. I never stop kissing her, trying to make her feel as comfortable as I possibly can, and as her urgent mouth and tongue grows, the more I play with her pussy.
It doesn’t take long until she’s drenched again, and the small sounds falling from her lips tell me she’s there – that she’s ready for my cock.
I squeeze a hand between our bodies and take a firm hold on the base of my cock. I open my eyes to watch her face as I slowly push inside her. Hers open slowly, staring down at mine, and no longer kissing me. I lick my lips, my instincts screaming at me to let go, to pound into her and fuck her, but I can’t do that.
Maybe later, but definitely not now.
Once the head is inside, I take a firm, yet gentle hold of her hips.
“Tell me if it hurts too much, and I’ll stop. You set the pace, sweetheart.”
It’ll kill me, but I will.
She shakes her head, and breathes deeply, making my adoration for her grow in strength.
“No. I want this…I want you, Fin. Take me.”
Groaning, I raise my head and take her mouth while I push deeper inside her. I can feel her tremble against me, but then she pushes down, and that tells me she craves our union as much as I do.
I suck harder on her tongue when I’m prevented me from burying my cock to the hilt, and I breathe through my nose, instinctively knowing what it is. I nudge against it, raising my hips further, and then the breach is gone. She gasps against my mouth, and I feel her lithe form writhing on top of me.
Something wet lands on my cheek and I open my eyes. alarmed at the tears falling. Immediately, I stop moving against her.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes. Now, Fin,” she smiles through her tears, still rocking slowly against me. “I have to move.” Her fingers trail through my hair, the touch so tender and sweet, I shudder.
“Fuck yes, you do.”
We stay as we are, arms and limbs tangled together, our sweat mingling. Our mouths meet in yet another wet and messy kiss, devoid of any finesse, and the musky scent of our mating teases my nostrils, making me dizzy. The more she rides me, the faster I thrust inside her, until I don’t know who’s in control anymore.
I might have taken her virginity, but she gives as good as she gets: somehow, she’s claiming me, marking me forever.
All sense of patience flies out the window when she straightens up and puts my left hand on her breast, and the other down to where we’re joined.
“Touch me, Fin,” she moans, her hands placed on top of mine. “Fais-moi tienne.”
Make me yours.
What else can I do but obey her?
“Fuck, Amelie,” I groan as I feel her warmth surround my cock, my thumb rubbing her slick clit while I pinch her nipple. Her slick heat surrounds me, and I bite my lip when I feel my balls draw up.
Not yet, not yet, not yet, I chant silently.
“Are you there? I need you to come,” I grind out. I’m desperate, already feeling the familiar tingling down my spine, but I won’t come until she does.
Her loud whimpers make me press down on her clit, our entwined fingers eager and fumbling, but as wetness spurt through my fingers, her voice calling my name in the throes of passion, I can’t hold back. My instincts take over as I grunt, thrusting up inside her. I look down to watch my cock move up and down, and the sight of blood spread on the condom turns me into a wild beast. I spill my seed inside her, a triumphant roar falling from my lips.
She falls down on my chest, her mouth fused to mine as I gasp in wonder, still rocking against me as if she’s reluctant to let go of the pleasure. I wrap my arms around her and cling to her. I lick inside her mouth, lost in her taste, and sigh as I glide inside her, until I feel her grow slack in my arms.
The earth shatters and still fucking hard, I can’t make myself leave her tight pussy. So, I don’t. Instead, I kiss her, and devour her, and consume her until my lips are swollen and raw.
“Sleep,” she mumbles and
draws back, resting her head on my shoulder.
I yawn and nod, grabbling at a throw on her bed and clumsily wrap us up. I don’t care that I’m still inside her. I don’t care we’re sticky with sweat. I don’t care that about the blood. I can’t move right now. I should take care of her, but judging by her breathing, she’s already fast asleep.
Fuck, this woman is going to kill me. But I’m keeping her.
That’s the last coherent thought I have before I fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.
9
Amelie
Gosh, I can’t wrap my head around it.
There’s a naked man asleep in my bedroom.
A very naked, really sexy naked bloke who took my virginity.
I watch Finlay sleeping for a while, not caring in the least that it could be construed as creepy. I have to remind myself he’s actually here.
Our lovemaking today – or, judging by the sunrise I see through the French door windows, it must’ve been yesterday. I blink when the fact we slept in each other’s arms all night tears through me. I glance over my shoulder to look at the alarm clock on my bedside table.
Okay, some may consider it’s still night, because it says four-oh-seven.
But I can’t fall asleep, I’m too wound up. I try to be as quiet as I can, not ruffling the duvet on top of us too much and slide to the side, but then stop, twinging at the low throb between my legs.
To be honest, I’m also too sore, but as I stop moving and take in the ache and soreness of my limbs, I realise it’s not a sharp pain as I’d feared. It didn’t even hurt that much when he thrust inside me. I blush a deep crimson when I think back on it, then breathe deeply, quelling the desire that wants to erupt inside me again.
I focus on the ache again, and that does the trick. It’s more like the way my muscles feel after a particularly exhausting dancing session; the only difference is the ache between my legs, and slowly, I move from Finlay’s side to go to the bathroom.
I need to process all that’s transpired between us and I can’t do that when he’s awake, looking and tempting me in that smouldering, intense way he has. I quirk my lips, tiptoeing out of my bedroom.
Yes, his eyes smoulder. Who’d have thought that part about men would be real?
I’m sure that Finlay isn’t anything like a book boyfriend, but despite us not really knowing each other yet, I have a feeling he comes pretty bloody close. My heart flutter in my chest knowing that he’ll be here when I return from my shower, and I can’t keep back the goofy grin on my lips.
Nevertheless, I’m a practical girl – erm, woman – and I need to think.
As I shut the door to my bathroom, my stomach growls loudly, and I giggle. Evidently, I also need to eat, and I decide to make French toast for breakfast.
Plan firmly in place, I open the frosted glass doors and turn on my shower. The water cascades down, and knowing it’ll take a minute or so before it gets to the right temperature, I close the doors and turn around the spacious room. Next to my bedroom, this is my favourite – big, airy with the white walls and black-and-white chequered flooring, and there’s enough room for both a closet and a white clawfoot tub with lion’s heads next to the window that overlooks my small back garden. The fixtures look vintage, but aren’t – thank goodness for the modern world we live in.
I take down my dressing robe hanging from a peg on the side of the closet, shivering a little, but before I take it on, my gaze catches on my body mirrored in the huge mirror hanging above the sink in the other end. I walk towards it, my robe forgotten, to look closely at my body.
Even though I turn every which way, making sure to take in every crevice and dip of my body, I can’t say I look different from yesterday. My eyes don’t shine knowingly, either – I glance down at my lips and raise a hand to rub them. They are still swollen, but not sore, thank goodness. But I feel different…more than a physical change has happened inside of me and it won’t ever return to the way it was before Fin rammed straight into my life.
I won’t be the same. He’s made an impact on my life in such a short time, and no matter what happens, I won’t ever forget the way he made me feel.
Wanted. Treasured. Cared for.
Oh, how he cared…the tenderness in his eyes almost made me cry. I know I didn’t imagine it.
I turn back from the mirror, nibbling on my chafing lips.
But…the question is if he feels as deeply for me as I feel for him?
I never lie to myself, and I’m not going to start now. I’m halfway in love with him – maybe even two-thirds head over heels in love, actually – but isn’t it too soon? It hasn’t even been a week since we met. Before then, I’d have laughed to my friends if they’d come to me, confiding their love for a man they’d only just started seeing. I’d have scoffed at them. I wouldn’t believe it could happen. Despite the fact I’m such an incorrigible romantic, I’m also a realist, and feeling as strongly for a man in such a short amount of time is completely crazy.
I shake my head as I step inside my shower, exhausted by all the questions swirling inside my head. The moment the water hits my back and warms my muscles, I sigh in pleasure.
Thinking will have to wait.
Seeing to myself, and cooking breakfast, can’t.
“Fuck me.”
I startle and look across my shoulder. Finlay stands in the doorway, and I swallow at the way his muscular arms flex as he leans against the doorjamb, watching me.
“Pardon me?”
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he lowers his head as his eyes move from my feet up my thighs in a slow, sensual perusal. I stand still, breakfast entirely forgotten as it spits in the pan on the stove, the spatula raised in my other hand. He lingers on the outline of my breasts against my robe, and I clench my thighs. The lust shining in his gaze makes my mouth dry up, and as he watches me, I take in the state of undress he’s in.
He’s only wearing his jeans, the top button undone, and revealing a, what’s the word? Ah, yes, a happy trail. I swallow, but it’s no use: seeing him drinking me in has me parched.
Perhaps wearing my robe wasn’t the best idea – it’s a scrap of white, lace material that barely covers my bum, but I didn’t want to wake him when I’d finished my shower, so it’s all I had to wear.
“You cooked for me, sweetheart?”
He prowls towards me, and I smile slowly.
“I like to cook, and I was hungry. What kind of a woman would I be if I didn’t ask you to have breakfast with me?”
He chuckles and looks down to the pan, his hand raised to caress my cheek, running his knuckles down. I love the way he makes me feel when he does that, and he doesn’t even know.
“You always cook?”
I roll my eyes, releasing a small smile when he moves and stands at my back, embracing me from behind. His arms rest around my middle, and warmth spreads inside me at the intimacy nature.
Fin likes to cuddle. Yay, me.
“No, but when I have time, I do.”
He hums deeply in his throat as he buries his face in the crook of my neck, his body completely plastered to mine. It reminds me of our height differences, but I don’t mind – in fact, it makes me feel cherished, and protected. As if no harm can come to me without going through him first.
My fingers tingle, and I ache to reach behind and up, wrapping my seeking fingers in his full hair…to hold him to me tightly, but if I don’t get the bacon out to drip on the plate next to the stove, our breakfast will be ruined, and I can’t have that.
Still, a thrill goes through me at the touch of his wandering hands, and there is that formidable feeling again – that I hold a certain power over this man.
But I know it’s not true.
He holds control of both my body and my heart, and I don’t ever want to let him go.
I sigh deeply, my head resting on his pecs, when his mouth touches the sensitive skin behind my ear.
“Careful,” I let out on yet another shaky breath. “We need to
eat.”
He groans, but then nods and takes a step back.
“It’s your own fault I can’t keep my hands to myself, Amelie.”
I shake my head.
“Don’t be silly.” I jerk my chin at the cupboard next to us. “Set the table, please.”
His arms squeeze my middle once before he releases me. I miss his touch at once, but I also need my food, and right now, that takes precedence.
“You want to eat in the breakfast nook or in your dining room?”
“The nook, I think.”
We work together well, I muse, as I top off our breakfast with scrambled eggs. The silence is relaxed despite the hungry way he looks at me as he walks between the nook and the cupboards in my narrow but elongated kitchen, and I feel lightheaded.
Either it’s because he’s drugging me, or my metabolism is done with waiting for fuel.
My bet is it’s a little bit of both.
I quirk a brow at him when he stops and instead leans a hip against the countertop.
“Do you have an extra toothbrush?”
I purse my lips and nod slowly.
“I think there’s a new one in one of the cupboards upstairs in the bathroom.”
He nods, grinning from ear to ear. “Brilliant. I won’t be long.”
His good mood is infectious, keeping me smiling all the while he’s gone, but when he returns, my hunger pains growl loudly, and I look apologetically at him.
“I’m sorry.”
He waves it off as he pulls out a chair for me.
“Don’t be. I’m so hungry, I don’t even care we’re up at the crack of dawn.”
Relived, I sit down, loving his gentlemanly ways. He twists his large body to sit on the bench next to me and grabs my chair. I yelp when he pulls it towards him, making us sit even closer, and my heart stutters in my chest when he then proceeds to reach down, takes both my legs, and end up placing them in his lap.