by Kati Wilde
Thought about kissing her, licking her, fucking her. But that’s not the distraction she’s looking for. Or the one I need if I’m going to get us there in one piece.
“I drove around with my dad. Then spent a few hours at Murphy’s watching the game with Shawn and Tyrone.” Because I went to Emma’s place after finishing up at Millie Atwater’s earlier, and she wasn’t home. “You?”
“I went to the senior center on Oak.”
I glance over. She’s pulled her right foot up to the edge of the seat and has wrapped her arms around her knee, as if keeping a tight hold on herself. “You got family there?”
Although, shit—that can’t be right. She doesn’t know who her parents are.
But she doesn’t seem to care that I just shoved my boot into my mouth again. Easily she says, “I was balancing checkbooks.”
I grin. “Just grabbing old ladies’ checkbooks and balancing them? You really do like those numbers to add up.”
With a laugh, she shakes her head. “It’s part of that citywide ‘donate your professional time to people in need’ program. Ever since I worked at the bank, I’ve been putting in about ten hours at the senior center every month.” She rests her cheek on top of her bent knee, her face turned toward me as if looking at me through the mask. “Most of them are on fixed incomes. So sometimes it’s just to make sure they don’t overdraw or get slammed with fees. Other times because they’re more likely to be taken advantage of, so it’s to help them keep an eye on what money’s being spent. Especially this time of year.”
I know that program. My dad and I donate time every month, too. That’s what we were doing today. In the winters, that means donating money for gifts and meals, then driving around and delivering them. The rest of the year, we’re usually donating labor and materials. Weatherizing houses or repairing leaky roofs, mostly.
“So that was my day,” she adds with a dismissive shrug, as if suddenly uncomfortable talking about herself. “How close are we now?”
Not close enough. The distraction’s taken a bit of the edge off. But only a bit. And knowing that we’re getting closer and that she’s over there needing me as much as I need her just amps it right back up again.
That need’s thick in the air between us the rest of the drive. The heavy tension smothers any pretense that we’ll be able to distract ourselves from this. Everything’s focused on getting her into my house, then getting into her.
Her breathing quickens as I slow to make the turn into my driveway. “Are we here?”
My answer’s hardly more than an affirmative grunt. And any other time I’d have her take off that mask, show her my house, because it’s part of what I’ll be offering her. But I’ll have to settle for showing her the inside and letting her see the rest tomorrow morning.
I don’t wait for the garage to open. Braking hard in front of my porch, I tell her, “You stay there,” before rounding the truck and yanking her door open. A second later I’ve scooped her up out of her seat and I’m hauling ass up the front steps, carrying her against my chest.
She’s giggling again. “You forgot the pizza.”
The pizza doesn’t need to be fucked. “I’ll get it after.”
Though I’ve got to slow this down or I’ll be inside her too fast. Our first time ought to be long and sweet, not a quick bang against my front door. So it’s better to tease her and get her ready for my cock while that mask is still on. Because I want to be looking into her eyes when I make her mine—and as soon as the mask comes off, as soon as I see her gazing up at me with those big brown eyes, I don’t know if I’ll have any control.
Kicking my front door closed behind me, I head across the foyer and take the stairs two at a time. Emma’s arms tighten around my shoulders, the hem of her skirt fluttering against my hand, her soft lips nibbling along the line of my jaw.
My cock’s already about to explode. Christ, I’ve never needed anyone as much as I need her. But I’ve got to slow this down.
When I start up the second flight, a little laugh shakes through her. “This is a lot of stairs.”
It’s a lot of house. My bedroom is on the third floor, a big open loft overlooking the great room. I hit the lights as I reach the top of the stairs, because although she’s wearing that mask, I want to see everything.
Starting with how she looks when I lay her on my bed, her golden hair pillowed beneath her head, her lush lips parted and her cheeks flushed. Groaning, I brace my hands beside her shoulders and allow myself a deep kiss before backing up to strip off my coat.
I yank off my boots and look up to see Emma sitting upright, her slender fingers unfastening the last button on her sweater, the sides falling open to reveal the silky white camisole that’s clinging to the soft swell of her breasts, her pouting nipples clearly outlined through the thin fabric.
With a hungry growl, I catch her hands and push her flat against the bed again, my fingers trapping her wrists over her head. “Not so fast, baby. No unwrapping the presents until you’ve sat on Santa’s lap and told him what you want.”
Plaintively she moans and wriggles her sexy little body beneath me. “I want you inside me, hard and fast.”
Ah, Christ. The way she’s moving, that camisole’s pulling even tighter across her breasts. Beneath the silk, her nipples look as hard as rivets. Those sweet buds must be aching.
Fuck, and I need a taste. Gruffly I ask, “You want me to suck on those pretty tits first?”
Her body goes utterly still except for the shuddering of her breath. “Yes,” she whispers.
Holding her wrists in my left hand, I glide my right hand up the smooth length of her bare thigh. She starts to tremble as my palm travels beneath the hem of her skirt. “You want me to tease your clit while I do? You want me to fuck you with my fingers, get you hot and wet enough to take my big cock?”
Accompanied by a desperate moan, her hips lift off the bed as if to urge my slowly drifting hand even closer to its destination.
That’s not an answer. Roughly I say, “Tell Santa that you want my fingers fucking your greedy little pussy.”
“Yes.” She’s panting, the muscles of her thighs quivering. “Yes.”
My hand travels higher and I almost lose my fucking mind. She’s already slippery wet and feverishly hot and there’s not a single barrier to my touch. Hanging onto control by a thin thread, I grind out through clenched teeth, “Now tell Santa why you’re not wearing any goddamn panties.”
“Because—” She cries out as my fingers slick through the sultry lips of her pussy, her hips bucking, her back arching.
“Because?”
Helplessly she rocks her juicy cunt against my palm. “I thought you’d take me against the wall. At my house.”
My mouth hovering above hers, I tease her snug entrance with my longest finger. “And you didn’t want anything coming between us.”
She’s utterly still again. “Yes.”
“Didn’t want anything to slow me down.”
“Yes.”
My thumb slides up to circle her swollen clit, the blunt tip of my middle finger pressing against her tight little opening. “And you wanted me inside you hard and fast.”
“Yes.” It’s barely a breath.
And I’m going to give her what she wants.
My finger plunges deep at the same moment I capture those cherry red lips, craving the silken heat of her mouth. Her thighs snap closed around my wrist, as if trying to keep me in, but I’m not going anywhere. Her pussy is so unbelievably tight, clamping down on my finger in a scorching vise. I groan against her mouth, already imagining that velvet sheath gripping my thick cock, then lick past her lips, seeking the slick heaven of her kiss.
Instead I find her teeth clenched. Against me, her body’s motionless, but it’s not the stillness of anticipation. She’s tense and shaking, her muscles locked.
As if she’s hurting.
Heart thundering painfully in my chest, I lift my head. “Emma?”
Sh
e makes a little sound, a whimper through her clenched teeth. Above the manacle of my fingers, her hands are balled into fists, fingernails digging into the heels of her palms.
“Talk to me, baby.”
“It’s okay. I’m okay.” Her ragged voice doesn’t sound okay. “I just need another second to adjust.”
Another second to adjust…to my finger? Oh sweet Christ.
Emma’s a virgin. And I just rammed into her with the tenderness of a jackhammer.
Fucking hell. My middle finger’s still buried inside her but when I gently try to pull away, her thighs tighten around my wrist. I could overpower her, but I’d have to force her legs apart…and I’m not going to hurt her more than she already is.
Letting go of her wrists, I tug the mask up over her forehead. Her eyes are squeezed shut, tears glittering at the base of her dark lashes.
The sight fucking destroys me. My beautiful fighter. There’s a storm of emotions ripping through me, sheer disbelief and primitive satisfaction and soul-sucking guilt—along with gut-wrenching relief that when I got to her apartment, I didn’t just slam my cock into her and fuck her against the wall—but at the forefront of everything is the overwhelming need to take care of her now, to erase those tears.
Softly, I kiss the corner of her trembling mouth. “There’s no rush, baby. We’ll take as long as you need.”
“Okay.” A teardrop slides down her temple and soaks into her hair. “Sorry.”
“No need for sorry.”
“Well, I’m sorry.” She laughs now, a choked little sound. “Because it was going really well.”
“It still is going well.” To reassure her that we’re not finished here, I bend to kiss the side of her throat, where her pulse is racing just beneath her skin. “We’ll just slow it way down. Until you adjust. Is it still hurting?”
“Not as much.” Her thighs flex against my wrist, subtly pushing my hand against her, as if tentatively testing the feel of my finger moving within her tender flesh. She stops on a sharp breath, but her eyes are open now, the tears gone. That warm brown gaze meets mine and a wry, tremulous smile curves her lips. “I didn’t think it would hurt. I’ve used my own fingers. And…tampons.”
Her cheeks go scarlet at the last. Chuckling, I shake my head and hold up my free hand, because showing is more effective than telling. I’m pretty sure my smallest finger is bigger than any tampon. And when I press my palm against hers, the difference in our sizes couldn’t be any plainer. She could wear my hand as a baseball mitt.
“Oh,” she says softly.
“Oh,” I echo teasingly before threading my fingers through hers and pushing her hand over her head again. “So a little change in plan. I’m not fucking you tonight.”
Disappointment crumples her expression and boosts my ego about a thousand points. “We still can.”
“We can still fool around,” I tell her. “But I’m not fucking you until I can get two or three fingers into your pussy without hurting you. We’ll take it slow, all right? Bit by bit. Just like a Christmas gift. Sometimes you tear off the wrapping paper, and sometimes you open it real carefully.”
Her teeth clench in frustration, and she tilts her hips up, forcing the penetration of my finger a little deeper. “It’s not really hurting now.”
And her pussy’s slowly softening around me. But that doesn’t change anything. “That’s just one finger. My dick’s a lot bigger. And if you’re going to be screaming under me, I want it to be because it feels so damn good. Not because my cock is ripping you in half.”
“Oh my god.” She abruptly stops pushing against my hand. Her face scrunches into an expression of squirming discomfort. “When you put it like that…”
Laughing, I kiss the adorable wrinkles across the bridge of her nose. “I’ll still make you feel good, sweetheart. We’ll get your pussy used to taking something of this size. Tomorrow I’ll give you a little more. And by Christmas I’ll be fucking you, all right?”
For a long second, she appears torn between anticipation and disappointment. Finally she sighs. “All right.”
Good. And now it’s time to ease that disappointment.
The lush heat of her cunt still surrounds my finger. My thumb is nestled in the moist curls above her clit. But as incredible as she feels, I don’t move that hand at all as I lean in and claim her cherry red lips. No light and sweet kiss this time. My tongue strokes hers, hot and slick, slowly fucking her mouth until she’s moaning low in her throat and her pussy juices are flooding my palm.
When I lift my head her brown eyes are glazed and her lids heavy, as if in a passion-drugged haze. She hasn’t eased up with her thighs yet, keeping my wrist trapped and my hand right where it is. The clasp of her virgin pussy is still tight as hell, but her inner walls are softer now, more elastic as her arousal deepens. I watch her expression for any sign of pain when my thumb slides over her swollen clitoris.
Back arching, her hips rock sharply, pushing my finger deeper. Her soft moan is cut off by a strangled cry of pleasure. Frantically rolls her hips as if seeking that same touch.
“Again,” she pleads breathlessly. “Do that again.”
Fuck, yes. Circling her clit, I gently pump my hand within the taut grip of her thighs. She’s so damn wet, her nectar lubricating every thrust, and the sound of my finger fucking her tight channel is slick and sexy and driving me out of my head.
It’s driving Emma out of hers, too. She’s flushed and writhing, panting on one breath and moaning the next.
No pain left. So it’s time for me to unwrap a little bit of my present.
Without slowing the thrust of my hand or the tease of my thumb over her clit, I bend my head and latch onto her left nipple, sucking the hardened flesh through the thin silk of her camisole. She cries out, her wrists tugging against my grip, and I let her go because I need that hand to get some of the clothes out of the way.
They aren’t coming off. Not with my right hand caught between her thighs and Emma lying on her back. Wrestling with her sweater isn’t on my list of priorities right now, and pushing her camisole higher gives me what I want—more of Emma’s beautiful body bared to my gaze.
And she’s simply stunning. The white camisole rucked up by her collarbones doesn’t look half as silky as her golden skin. Her small tits are soft round mouthfuls, her pouting nipples like rubies at their tips. Her stomach’s soft with just a bit of inward curve at her sides that flares into the wider curve of her hips. The high waistline of her flirty skirt conceals her navel, but the hem is flipped up and I’ve got a full view of her long, long legs and those striped socks. Her knees are bent, her heels digging into the mattress as she rocks her hips to the rhythmic thrust of my finger, trying to take me even deeper.
My big hand’s shielding her pussy, but I got an up-close view of that last night—the dark blond curls, the delicate pink flesh nestled between her glistening labia. I got a long, deep taste of all the sweet juices flowing from her virgin well.
But I get to taste the rest of her now.
With a hungry growl, I lower my head to her breast again. Her nipple’s hard and hot against my tongue. The moment I suckle that taut bud into my mouth, her pussy clenches around my finger, her moan thick and deep in her throat. Her hands slide into my hair, and I fucking love how wild she is, pulling at me and then pushing as if she’s so lost to pleasure she doesn’t know what to do with herself, to do with me, and she’s just grabbing whatever she can. Circling my tongue around her ruby nipple, I groan against her soft tit as her inner muscles ripple around me again. She’s so damn sensitive. The way her cunt squeezes and pulls at my finger, when my big cock’s deep inside her it’ll be a miracle if I last more than a few seconds.
I won’t last much longer now. Thrusting into her sultry pussy, tasting her golden skin, hearing her frantic moans, my cock’s a throbbing volcanic rock and I’m about to blow a load into my fucking jeans.
But she’s close, too. Her fingernails dig into my scalp and my name is a s
obbing chant on her lips. There’s no rhythm to her movements now, just chaotic need and desperate urgency. Every sound she makes drives me closer to the edge, and there’s barely any control left as I move over her, straddling her thighs with my knees digging into the bed, my mouth finding hers again. I fuck my tongue past her lips the same way my finger’s fucking into her, the way my cock needs to be fucking into her. Her swollen clit’s so slippery with her juices that my thumb’s gliding right over with almost no friction, faster and faster, then all at once she arches beneath me, screaming into my mouth as her virgin pussy clamps down, those tight inner muscles strangling my finger, her thighs squeezing my wrist.
And I can’t stand it any longer. As soon as she comes down, her thighs falling gently open, I rise up on my knees again. My right hand glistening with her cum, my left hand shaking with need, I tear open my jeans.
Her blond hair tangled around her head, Emma watches me drag my straining cock free of my briefs, her eyes glazed and her lush lips parted. My gaze locks on her flushed face as I fist my aching shaft. Pre-cum is already dripping from the bulging tip, and it only takes three rough strokes before I’m grunting like a fucking animal and cum spurts from my cock in thick streams, splattering across her belly and tits.
Holy fuck. Chest heaving, I collapse over her, barely catching my weight on my elbow. I bury my face in the sweat-slicked skin at her throat, my lungs bellowing like a steam engine.
I can feel the aftershocks passing through her body in erratic shudders. Her arms slip around my shoulders, her fingers threading into the hair on the back of my head, and as incredible as that orgasm felt, it doesn’t come close to the feeling of being held by her after.
But I just made a sticky mess all over her chest. And this isn’t taking care of her.
With a groan, I summon the strength to rise to my knees again, then can’t get any farther because my brain shuts down at the sight of her lying there, her brown eyes glazed with satisfaction and her mouth bare of her cherry lipstick now, but still red and swollen from my kisses. The longer I stare the more she begins looking real shy, biting her lip and lowering her lashes, but she has no reason to worry.