I was going to check out some online tutorials as soon as I got home.
“No, no, that’s… What you’re doing… Keep doing that.” His arm tightened around my back.
It was much easier than with a guy who was cut; I didn’t feel like I was churning butter. I could just lay there, in the crook of Ian’s arm, my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat speed up and the changes in his breathing as I touched him. When he started kneading my hip in rhythm with my strokes, I knew I was on the right track.
I sat up, so I could use my other hand, too. I dragged them both up and gave a lazy twist, rubbing his foreskin over the tip and drumming my fingers along the underside.
“How’s that?” I asked, but I knew how it was. I’d never had a complaint before, and even with the whole uncut curveball I’d just been pitched, I knew my way around a dick pretty well.
“Jesus.” He blew out a long exhale. “You weren’t joking at the park, were you?”
“I would never make a promise I couldn’t deliver on.” I squeezed my thighs together against the ache between them. I was so wet I wondered if I would soak my jeans. What could I say? Getting a guy off made me feel horny and powerful. I was going to change the batteries in my vibrator when I got home and probably come in thirty seconds flat.
“Ah, Penny. That is…” He groaned. “I’m a bit embarrassed, Doll. I don’t think I’m going to impress you with my staying power tonight.”
Oh god, maybe ten seconds flat. Nothing made me feel sexier than having a guy this helpless in my hands.
“I wouldn’t expect you to.” I licked my lower lip. “I’m very good.”
He closed his eyes, a furrow of concentration forming between his brows. I took that as my cue to speed up a little. I thought about spitting in my hand, just to make it a bit easier. Then I thought, you could just blow him, you know.
That was something else I’d never done. And, right now, watching the way his jaw clenched and the muscles of his forearm flexed as he squeezed his hand into a fist, I wanted to. I wanted to blow his mind.
I licked my lips, leaned over, and sucked the tip of him into my mouth, still pumping him with my hands. In no time at all, he made a strangled noise of surprise, groaned, “Oh fuck,” and thrust his hips up, his cock jerking in my mouth as he came.
I didn’t really know what to do at that point. This logical conclusion never occurred to me when I’d been conceiving my spur-of-the-moment plan. I was too shocked by the totally weird taste and texture, I made the split second decision to swallow, and he shivered violently.
When I sat back up and pushed my hair away from my face, he stared at me, mortified. “I am so sorry. I didn’t have any time to warn you.”
I dropped my head and laughed. “I’ll take that as praise.”
“And fully deserved.” He half sat up. “Give me a second. I’ve got to go clean up a bit.”
I reached for my glass of wine. “Okay. I’ll just finish this.”
“Again,” he said as he stood, “I am sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I shrugged. “I guess I’m as good with my mouth as I am with my hands.”
He made that strangled noise again, and headed off to the bathroom.
I lay back on the couch with a contented sigh. I was awfully proud of myself for the initiative I’d taken. I deserved two orgasms when I got home.
He came back and sat beside me. “Thank you.”
“Any time,” I told him with a smirk. It wasn’t just to get a reaction; I really meant any time. I could easily get addicted to making Ian come. There was something intimidating about dating a guy who wasn’t just charming and funny, but who really had his life together. Logically, I knew it was stupid to compare my life to his. He’d had more time than I’d had to get a great career and his own apartment and pull in enough money to actually live on. Still, being able to have him so completely helpless in my hands gave me a thrill of power. And the fact that he’d been so turned on gave me a sense of pride.
He pulled me into his arms and brushed his lips across my cheek. He kissed the corner of my jawbone. “I apologize for the interruption.”
Interruption? “I thought we were done.”
He stilled, his lips beside my ear. “Do you…want to be?”
“What? No, believe me, I am totally fine with this. I just figured that since you already…”
“But you didn’t.”
“I usually don’t.”
“Wait.” He leaned up, his brow furrowed. “You’ve been giving men absolutely splendid hand jobs—”
“Thanks!” I beamed at him.
“Praise well-deserved,” he assured me, and went on, “but none of those men ever made you come?”
No, but listening to that sentence almost made you the first. “Not because they weren’t good at it. They probably were. I didn’t let them try.”
“Oh,” he said, and he didn’t press for more details.
So I added, “It was too intimate. O-orgasming in front of someone.”
Orgasming? How clinical could I possibly sound? And where had all of that sexual confidence gone? I’d already had his dick in my mouth, it wasn’t like I could go back to being a shy flower.
His frown changed to one of thoughtfulness. “Fair enough. In that case, forget I mentioned it.”
Forget he mentioned it? I wanted him so badly I was almost willing to ignore a family legend and lose my virginity after four dates with him. And he’d just offered to make me come. What would that be like? I mean, I knew what coming was like. But to have someone else, to have Ian, getting me off? That was going to be unbelievable. How could I pass it up?
“I don’t want to forget it,” I said with a nervous laugh. “I want you to do it.”
His eyebrows shot up.
“Let’s do it. I’ll call it a trial run.” I couldn’t believe how I was behaving. This was not me. At least, not me in real life. Me in my sexual fantasies would come on this strong. Maybe that was the version of Penny I wanted to be with Ian.
He smiled slowly. “A trial run?”
“In case I ever decide to have sex with you, obviously.” I wriggled my hips. My confidence was at an all time high, and I didn’t want it to fade. I licked my puffy bottom lip. “So…what do I do?”
He bent his head and kissed me. It didn’t matter that my mouth was practically numb from sensation overload; the touch still electrified my whole body. Going home, using my vibrator for thirty seconds, and falling asleep no longer seemed like a satisfactory end to the evening. His hand squeezed my hip, then glided up, under my shirt, to cup my breast again. Chills skated down my arms, and a sharp breath pushed my flesh more fully into his hand.
“What you should do,” he murmured against my cheek, “is tell me if I do anything you don’t like. And tell me what you do like. I want to learn how to make you come, and it works a lot better with direction than trial and error.”
“Oh god.” I tipped my head back. Ian’s sexy voice alone was enough to make me tingle in every place I could possibly tingle. “Just keep talking like that.”
He reached down to slowly pull the zipper of my jeans. Parting my fly with one finger, he stroked up and down the front of my lace panties. “What? Talking about how much I want to make you come?”
“Mhmm,” was all I could manage. My knees shook. He hadn’t even touched my skin yet.
“I bet it’s beautiful when you do,” he went on. Two fingers rubbed up and down my slit over my panties. “I can’t wait to hear how you sound.”
I stifled a moan.
“Don’t do that,” he said, his voice soft, but his tone firm. “Nobody will hear you but me.”
And I wanted him to hear me. I was just so used to not being heard I hadn’t remembered that making noise was an option. His hands could conduct a whole symphony of noise from me. “Make me get loud, then.”
“Ah, fuck,” he groaned. He slipped his hand under my panties, and my breath caught.
&nbs
p; My jeans were too tight, that became painfully clear when his hand was trapped in them. My palms got sweaty, and my stomach flipped over on itself. I was going to have to remove some clothing. I pushed my pants down a little. “Do you mind if I take these off?”
“Not at all. It’ll definitely make things easier.” He withdrew his hand long enough for me to shimmy out of the tight denim. I left my panties on; it was stupid, I knew, but somehow, the thought of him seeing me half-naked made me feel shyer than the thought of him actually touching me.
He didn’t ask me to take them off, but he did hook a finger beneath one side and tugged down slightly. “Ah. Now there is the octopus I have been wanting to meet.”
I laughed and pushed him away from my tattoo. “If you don’t get your hand back to where it was, I’m going to cry.”
“Well, I don’t want that,” he said with a smile, and leaned over to kiss me as he slid his hand under my panties again. He cupped my mound and I lifted my hips; this was too much of a tease, when I wanted direct stimulation. I supposed I could have told him that—he wanted to know what I liked, after all—but I liked the anticipation. I opened my legs wider for him. The length of his finger pressed between my labia, and I arched up; he followed my body with this fingertip until he found my clit.
He may as well have shocked me with a taser, for the way I reacted. I felt like I’d been blown apart by lightning. I gripped his shoulder, hard, and my nails sank into his shirt.
“Easy,” he said, laughing softly. “I appreciate the compliment, but I also appreciate having skin.”
“Sorry.” I pulled him closer. I needed him closer. He rubbed slow circles over and over my clit, and my breath stopped with each one. It would be so embarrassing to hyperventilate and need medical attention from this.
It was also embarrassing how close I was getting so fast. Ian may have been worried that he’d come so soon, but was he going to think I was totally hard-up because of this?
“May I go inside?” he asked, gliding his fingers down. His thumb replaced them on my clit, still rubbing those lazy circles.
“Yeah,” I breathed. I had to force myself to relax when the excitement pounding through me demanded I tense up. I was blasting through firsts tonight, and the exhilaration was overpowering.
Slowly, he pushed two fingers into me. A shocked exhale rushed out of me. I’d fingered myself before, but his hands were a lot different than mine, slightly rougher and definitely larger. My muscles clenched, and he dropped his head with a low groan. It didn’t take a huge leap to figure out what he was imagining, and that made me imagine it, too. I’d thought I couldn’t get any wetter, but I’d been wrong.
He swirled his fingertips just inside the opening of my vagina. It was pretty obvious what he was looking for, and he was almost there, but I needed it so bad I had to direct him.
“It’s just a little deeper,” I whimpered.
“Thank God you know where it is,” he said with a laugh. “That makes it much easier to find.”
He found it. Oh god, he found it. I bucked my hips and gripped the back of the couch. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” I chanted, and heard him murmur something under his breath. I hardly ever swore like that, but at the moment, I couldn’t help it. Touching myself felt good. Using my vibrator? Even better. But it felt different when it was someone else doing it. I knew exactly what I liked, and it took me no time at all on my own. Ian had to learn, and his trial and error exploration just made the pleasure last and last, until that unstoppable up-hill rush tightened all my muscles and burst in a shock of ecstasy. My mouth froze open. Maybe I was trying to scream? I couldn’t tell, because my mind was blissfully blank, my clit still pulsing under Ian’s thumb.
“Do you want to keep going?” he asked, stroking the fingers of his other hand over my belly, under my shirt. The hand in my panties stilled, but stayed where it was, exerting the same pressure over the parts where I still throbbed from my orgasm.
“What?” My voice was hoarse.
“Do you want to come again?” he asked. “Honestly, I could do this all night.”
“Yes!” The word burst from my mouth without having to consider the answer. Which was good, because I might have decided it would be polite to tell him no or something absolutely stupid like that. I’d never tried for multiples before, because it always felt too sensitive, but I was being reckless and sexy, and I was totally under his power. It was a good thing I’d told him I didn’t want to have sex—well, intercourse—because I would have begged him to fuck me if I’d been able to talk.
I’d come down a little, but not very much, when he started that slow swirl of his thumb again. It was an odd feeling, like I wanted him to stop because it was too much but keep going because it wasn’t enough. The fingers inside of me wriggled and rubbed over my g-spot, and I arched up as if pulled by a cord strung right between my hips. His free hand slid beneath my shirt to cup my breast and tease my nipple with his thumb, and the sensation tugged something deep in my pelvis. He leaned down to kiss me, and I held his face in my hands, sucking at his tongue as I rode his fingers and muffled my scream of release with his mouth.
I broke away, panting. “Okay. Okay, that’s enough.”
He withdrew his hand gently, while my pulse still pounded and my legs still jerked. Before my utterly disbelieving eyes, he lifted his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean.
No. Fucking. Way.
My thighs trembled. Shock must have showed on my face, because he smirked a little. “Is there anything I can get you?”
“Water,” I croaked. I felt like I’d just gone for a brutal run at the hottest part of the day. My muscles hurt, I was impossibly thirsty, yet I was completely satisfied with myself and what my body could do. But the aftermath was so much better than any runner’s high.
He kissed my cheek. “I’ll be right back.”
I closed my eyes and flopped sideways. My everything was too tired to put my pants back on. The white throw was still over the back of the couch, so I pulled it down to cover myself. The jeans he’d stuffed under it last week tumbled across me, belt and all. I laughed.
“What’s so funny?” he called from the kitchen.
How adorably hopeless you are. I sat up and folded the jeans, then tossed them down the couch. “Nothing. Just tons of endorphins.”
“Ah.” He came back with a cold bottle of water and handed it to me. “I suppose I’ve done my job.”
“More like charity work,” I snorted.
“Then, I’ll consider myself a philanthropist, because I’m keenly devoted to the cause.” He sat beside me, again, and put his arm around my shoulders. But this time, he held me a little closer than before. The easy intimacy of the gesture warmed me from the inside out, and I stifled a giddy laugh.
I pulled my feet up on the couch and lay back in the crook of his arm. “Thank you.”
“You’re more than welcome.”
“No, I mean, thank you. For not pushing for more.” A rush of emotion overwhelmed me. I knew my voice was going to shake, and I didn’t care. “It’s really nice to be treated like a person and not a challenge.”
He hugged me tight with the arm that lay over my chest. “Penny, I really don’t care if you sleep with me. I hope we see each other long enough that we do, but if it never happens, I won’t feel like you’ve deprived me of anything. Being with you has been the best part of the past few weeks.”
I frowned at how much his statement managed to echo feelings I hadn’t thought to examine.
I took his hand in mine. “You know…you’ve been the best part for me, too.”
* * * *
The high I’d gotten from my date with Ian was still going strong on Sunday morning. Rosa was tired of hearing the details—the octopus details, not the sexy details—which I think influenced her decision to reschedule our planned Sunday Marvel marathon. We’d been slowly working through all the movies in order, because both of us were woefully behind the trend. She swore she wasn’
t going to spend the time with Amanda, but I knew she was a liar. And truthfully, I didn’t really mind having the day to myself. I felt more positive and upbeat than I had since Brad and I had broken up, and I was ready to run.
I’ve always wanted to run the Battery Park esplanade, so I threw on my gear and headed out. My plan was to go across town to the Irish Hunger Memorial, then along the river, through Battery Park, and back home. I mentally added it up to about eight miles, but it might have been less.
I started out just before sunset, and the heat was a little more than I had anticipated, but it felt good to get out in the sun and soak up some much needed vitamin D. Also, to have time to just be without thought. My head had been buzzing lately, and so much of it was about Ian. Taking a break from those thoughts was probably the healthiest thing I could do, in terms of keeping a level head about our relationship. I mean, we hadn’t committed to exclusivity, even. We’d just said we weren’t interested in seeing anyone else. Did that mean for a long time? Or just for now? I needed to get all of those questions out of my head for a little bit.
My brain was fairly empty, my ears full of Kanye’s “Stronger,” a staple on my running playlist for the past year, when I spotted… Oh god. Oh no. Walking along beside a tall, willowy brunette, was Brad. And he was pushing a stroller.
I thought about veering off my route and avoiding him. But something mean inside me, some masochistic part of me, forced me to make eye contact with him. I slowed down some and, popping out my headphones, said, “Hi, Brad.”
He looked startled and guilty, and it took me a moment to realize why. My gaze flitted from the baby in the stroller to the fucking enormous ring on the woman’s finger.
“Hey, Penny.” He tried to smile at me, but it looked as unpleasant and forced as I knew it was for him.
My heart pounded even harder than usual on a run. I thought it might actually burst and kill me. And death by ex-boyfriend was not the way I wanted to go.
First Time: Penny's Story (First Time (Penny) Book 1) Page 13