by Ashlee Price
The knowledge gave him more insight, but also created conflicting feelings with it. He wanted to take his time, but the idea of being the first made his blood boil.
“Will you help me take this off please?”
Her voice was so quiet, but he heard it as if it was thundering in his head. Shane found his feet planted to the floor for a moment, questioning if it was what he had actually heard it or was it what his mind made him think he heard. It was what he wanted to hear.
“You need help with your dress?”
She nodded in the mirror, her blue eyes looking to him.
“Please.”
Shane closed his eyes for a moment and then moved forward to reach her. His hands trembled slightly as he undid the long row of buttons on the back. He couldn’t think of how she had gotten in it with her body so close. She was breathing in shallow breaths and he wondered how such a beautiful woman could be still untouched.
His fingers played with the revealed flesh when he was done, running a tip up her back and watching her shiver. Shane moved the fabric off of her shoulders, where the swell of her breasts stopped it from falling the rest of the way off of her. “I couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful wife Dasha. I feel like the luckiest man in the world. I want to make love to my wife, but only when you are ready.”
He had to give her a choice. Sex had always been optional in his mind when he had come up with the idea of finding a wife, practicality was what he had been thinking about, but now all he could think about was being her husband in all senses of the word.
Dasha’s blue eyes met his finally as he towered over her. She trembled against him, but finally moved. Her hands went to the top of the dress and pulled it down to fall. Catching on her hips, she pushed it the rest of the way down and Shane couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. His palms rubbed her shoulders and then moved down her upper arm towards her small breasts. Cupping them from behind, his fingers played with the hardened tips as Dasha’s head fell back against his chest.
He played with her as she squirmed against him and he was left rigid in his pants in seconds. Shane was watching her face through the mirror, the way her body jerked as one hand dragged short nails down her abdomen. He toyed with the soft brown curls that covered her. Knee pushing in between her thighs, she made a small whimpering sound when he found her damp heat. Shane bit her shoulder and she made the same sound again. As his finger moved lower, rubbing against her clit, her noises became louder and more damaging to his need.
Shane made circles over her swelling clit. She seemed more than ready and when he moved lower, his assumptions were found to be right. No one else had ever touched her before. Sucking where he had bit, his fingers moved back up to the top of her slit and pressed harder. Dasha gasped and wiggled her ass against his own raging need. He groaned as he moved faster on her, watching her body tense as she was dragged closer to the edge. Dasha had her eyes shut tight and he tapped on her with the tops of his fingers.
“Come for me Dasha. So you will be wet enough.”
He continued his assault on her quim, while his other hand left her to make him ready for her. He had never needed something so badly in his life and when she called out his name in that accent, her need splashing out onto his fingertips, Shane thought he was going to explode. It was too much and he was struggled to release himself with only one hand.
Her hips and ass pushed back against him over and over again. Her body was searching for it and when he finally felt the cleft between her cheeks he growled. Going back to rubbing her sensitivity, he positioned himself lower to her opening that was barred. Her eyes flashed open as he pressed in against her barrier. Shane rubbed more, making her stomach tighten and her moaning started again. Conflicting thoughts once more.
“Are you ready Dasha?”
She nodded her head, though her eyes fluttered closed as soon as he started to press inside. Slowly the cockhead ripped through to her tight depths and Shane gritted his teeth to the urge to slam forward. Her name whispered softly in her ear as he pushed deeper, her insides suffocating him. Pulling out, she gripped him and when he pressed back in found her no less choking.
“Oh God Dasha. Are you okay?”
“Yes.” The last syllable rose with his sudden thrust to fully seat himself inside of her. He was just so big and she was so small it was hard to think. Moving back to her breasts, he played with a tip while he rubbed her pleasure spot. She started to move her hips against him, pressing him in and out just an inch, grinding back against him as she moaned.
Shane watched her bring herself to pleasure, using his body as her instrument. The longer he was inside of her, the deeper she pushed him and the faster she pulled him out. “Yes, yes, I’m going to come Shane.”
Her shaking made his blood boil, the sounds of her satisfying him in a way that nothing else could. But it was the flush of her essence down his shaft that propelled him forward, pushing her down onto the dresser, his cock sliding deeper.
He couldn’t be tender any longer and her body was asking for something else entirely. When he pulled out and seen the slickness left from her, he slammed back in suddenly. Her tits bounced back and forth as he started to move into her quickly. Pushing in hard and deep and then pulling out quickly to do it over again.
Dasha was still coming, unable to stop as each thrust rubbed her clit against the edge of the dresser. She braced herself against the mirror as he pounded into her. His name became a chant on her lips as she came over and over again. Shane watched ever nuisance of her face and then her eyes met his as he started to fill her with his hot seed. She convulsed around his shaft with each inch pressed deeper to her womb.
He laid his head on her back and breathed out deeply. How could he not have known that it was possible to feel that way? Shane helped her up, her knees a little wobbly as he moved her to the bed. Removing his shirt and pants, he laid down next to her, pulling her close. Dasha sighed against him and laced her hands with his.
“I’m sorry if I hurt you Dasha.”
She turned to him. “Not at all. It was better than I could have hoped for. I knew I was waiting for the right one and it was you.”
For someone that had never believed in love, Shane felt the same way.
“I’ve been waiting for you too Dasha. I just didn’t know it.”
She sighed and pulled closer to him, molding her body against him. They slept for hours afterwards, only getting out of bed to get something to nibble on before going back to nibbling on each other. It wasn’t a regular wedding by far, but it was certainly one that would never be forgotten by the two who shared it.
~THE END~
Bad Boy’s Little Secret
I’m at the bar one evening, trying not to think about my current circumstances. I’ve always been told that dating is supposed to be fun, but it’s pure misery as I sit there in solitude, waiting for someone to flirt with me or make a move. No one seems to show any interest in me, and I’m left to reflect on my most recent failed relationship, the discovery that my ex was cheating on me, etc. However, just when I’m ready to give up, a stranger buys me a drink. He’s a handsome man, a little bit older – and unmistakably a bad boy… He invites me back to his room with him, almost without preamble, and the two of us enjoy a night of rough, passionate lovemaking. The next morning, however, he tells me he doesn’t want to take things too far. I try to live with that decision, thinking that just this one night of ecstasy should be enough for me. However, that’s when I discover I’m pregnant with his baby, and I end up learning a dirty little secret he’s kept from me…
Chapter 1
I thought dating was supposed to be fun… Although, admittedly, I don’t know exactly why I thought that… Nothing in my experience really seemed to indicate that that was the case, but it was what I’d always intuited from other people, and to some extent, I guess I sort of internalized it myself, thinking that, surely, sooner or later, the fun would come.
Maybe I just wasn’t the right ty
pe of girl to have fun dating… Maybe I took everything too seriously, too gravely. Maybe there was fun to be had there, but I just didn’t let myself experience it. It was getting hard to tell, anymore…
For me personally, though, it was beginning to feel increasingly more like work than enjoyment. Ideally, a young girl like myself, mid-twenties, decent looking, should have gone to the bar after work to unwind, to make herself available, and men should have flocked to her, until just the right guy picked her up and made her evening. Not all girls are like that, sure, but the ones I associated with tended to be, and that led to a sort of expectation in me that I could enjoy that same sort of success, that same sort of thrill.
It didn’t really happen that way at all, to be honest… The whole ordeal, more often than not, just made me feel more awkward and tense than anything. It was unnerving to me, rather than flattering, to feel that the men all around me were checking me out, sizing me up, mentally undressing me from head to toe and trying to decide whether they approved of what they saw underneath in their heads – or at the very least, enough to want to go home and stick themselves inside of it for the evening…
And how the hell was that anyone’s idea of fun?
More than anything, it made me insecure. Not only because of how unnerving that all inherently is, but also because I already had quite a few doubts about myself in terms of dateability. There were so many other attractive girls at the bar… Thin and sexy, with perfect tits and firm asses, painted lips and sizzling features, all combined to paint a picture of irresistible beauty, designed specifically to lure men into their embrace like sirens leading sailors to their graves.
And what the hell was I by comparison?
I was readily aware of the fact that this description didn’t describe me at all. I was shy, unassuming. I didn’t crave attention; I just wanted to find a decent guy for at least the night, maybe longer. I didn’t like flirting, or trying to impress the people around me, or playing any of those dumb games people play to avoid outright coming out and saying they want to fuck you.
And appearance wise, I felt certain that I didn’t stand anywhere near these other women by comparison, and that further enhanced my misery as I sat there at the bar, sipping on my drink every few minutes or so.
Now, granted, I wasn’t an unattractive girl… Quite the opposite, really, when you got right down to it. I’d always been curvier, thicker, and to some extent I guess that occasionally bothered me. But if I could look past trying to compare myself to the people around me, I could actually be pretty sexy when the mood struck me. My curves were voluptuous, falling in all the right places, and I carried my weight daintily, making me seem substantive and sexy. With my wide hips, my substantial thighs… My plump, cushioned buttocks, my supple breasts, and my angelic face. I had dazzling blue eyes, crystal clear and hypnotic, a button nose, and tight red lips – talented at whatever endeavors they chose to undertake, if you catch my drift… And finally, I had silky, shimmering dark brown hair, flowing and sumptuous, completing a picture of ideal femininity in my book that I could largely be proud and confident of.
In isolation, that is…
When it came to competing with other women for men’s attention, I folded like a tent. For all the sway I could hold over a guy when it was just the two of us in the bedroom, one on one, I found that it wasn’t at all difficult to keep his attention with reasonable success. I didn’t even have to think about it – it was completely natural to me, and I felt no inhibition in my seductions in any way.
But when it got down to trying to beat other women to the punch, so to speak, and to be the one to command the most attention from a guy, well… I just felt like my confidence was always shaky and unstable, and I felt as though I was lesser, unworthy, not able to succeed and the effort, therefore, not worth making.
Recent experience, frankly, hadn’t really helped me all that much in this regard, either…
Truth be told, I was out here tonight at the bar, forcing myself into socialization, because I’d recently come out of a long-term relationship with a boyfriend of mine, who I’d been dating for two years now.
The relationship ended, you see, because I found out that he’d been cheating on me for the previous two months, with a thinner, arguably more attractive girl.
And God, it devastated me…
Matthew was my boyfriend’s name, and at one point I’d felt so damn lucky to have him. I’d been looking for someone steady for a while at the time, because, like I said, I wasn’t too big on the dating scene. As far as I was concerned, settling down with someone nice, even for just a while, was preferable to going around trying to find someone new all the time, and Matthew, initially, had fit the bill. He was smart, funny, attractive, athletic, and he loved me for who I was, most importantly of all. He seemed not to want to change a single damn thing about me, and accepted me flaws and all, without expectations. And my only expectation for him was that he be honest with me, which he did, for months and months on end.
God, they’d been some of the happiest times of my life… He’d always had a way of picking me up when I was down, knowing just what to say, encouraging me… It had been so gratifying, so sweet, and it seemed strange that there had ever been a time in life when I’d been plagued by my numerous insecurities at all, because everything had at last seemed so perfect. I hadn’t been able to conceive an end to it until at last the end came, and I realized that a large part of what I’d loved about Matthew had all been an illusion.
He was really, in truth, quite the douchebag…
When I at last found out about his piece of ass on the side, I felt completely stupid and gullible about it, like I’d completely had the wool pulled over my eyes, going on blindly thinking everything was fine, and naturally I got quite indignant about it trying to confront him about his actions.
And the crazy thing was, he acted like he hadn’t even done anything wrong… He shrugged me off, acted like I was being too dramatic… And maybe I was – I’d just been betrayed in an awfully huge way as far as I was concerned, and I was admittedly pissed at him, trying to wrap my head around the whole thing and to find some sort of vindication.
But somehow, he ended up turning it around on me. He said that I’d started boring him, that maybe if I’d done a better job of making sure his needs were met, he wouldn’t have done what he did. Which, to me, was peculiar, because as far as I’d known we’d had a pretty active sex life, and he’d never once tried to convey to me any dissatisfaction or want of anything. So for him to accuse me of being the reason our relationship had fallen apart seemed, frankly, as absurd as it was insulting.
I ended up yelling at him, and our relationship basically crumbled with the fateful words that I’d never find anyone as good as himself to love me.
And God, what a blow that had been…
I was just now only beginning to recover from it, putting myself back out there dangerously once more at the request of a friend, who’d been worried about me and wanted me to at least to try to get back on my feet in that regard.
And so, I’d given it a go. I sat, now, shifting around at the bar, trying not to look to nervous, and to pretend like I was at least capable of making dating fun like I was supposed to. But I’m pretty sure I was about as transparent as could be in my discomfort, squeezing my shoulders together, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. Any guy that might have tried looking at me flirtatiously, sizing me up, seemed to be instantly dissuaded by my uptight and withdrawn manner, and passed along without a word, not even bothering to try and make small talk with me in my obvious state of introversion.
God, this was hopeless… I needed to get a hold of myself. I needed to do my best to try and at least make eye contact with someone, because if I went home alone tonight, without company, I would end up feeling even more lonely and like a failure than I was already thanks to Matthew.
I sat up in my seat, brushing aside my blues as best as I could manage, and slowly I tilted around the roo
m, trying to scope out my prospects.
It didn’t take long for my enthusiasm to droop downward however – it seemed as though I’d waited just a tad bit too long, and now a lot of the decent looking guys were gone for the evening, left with the aforementioned beautiful women, and leaving me to pick from, essentially, the leftovers.
That was very, very depressing to me…
I turned back to my glass, took a long last sip, and then stared into it, as though hoping it might magically refill itself.
And then surprisingly, something very close to the next best thing happened – possibly even better…
As though reading my mind, the bartender set a new glass, full past the halfway mark in front of me. I stared at it for a moment, honestly perplexed, and I looked at him inquisitively, trying to understand.
“From the fella across the bar,” he said, and something fluttered inside my chest.
This, of course, got me on edge. Not wholly in a bad way, just in an attentive way. As subtly as I could manage I tried to straighten myself back up again, as though I’d not been moping around like I had been in the first place. And very carefully I peered over in the man’s direction from the corner of my eye, trying to decide whether this was going to be worth the song and dance I was prepared to put up for him. At first, all I could see was a figure in shadow. I had to say that, at least, what I did see of him wasn’t bad looking at all, but granted I still had very little idea as to whether I wanted this to progress any further.
And then he stood up… My heart fluttered, as the man in shadow began to drift his way through the bar like a phantom, moving with measured footsteps, making me dizzy with anticipation. My hand actually began to tremble around the drink he’d bought for me, so that I had to set it down, to avoid looking so damn anxious in his presence.