now I was on a rocket ship to the stars. Maybe it was what we’d just shared, touching him, feeling his sticky warm wet cum on my hands and him still shaking from the orgasm…but this was like nothing I’d ever experienced.
He got me there faster than I’d thought possible. Swift circles, the perfect pressure, flicking my sensitive left nipple with his tongue, tweaking my right with pinches until it almost hurt…
“Rhys, oh god, Rhys…” I breathed.
“Like this?” he growled.
“Yeah, oh yeah, just like this.”
“Nope.”
“Wh—what?”
He lifted me, picked me up seemingly without effort and suddenly I was straddling him, sitting on his face and holding on to the headboard for dear life because holy shit he was devouring me, and with such passionate ravenous insatiable hunger that it eclipsed the way he’d kissed my mouth, or the worship he’d paid my breasts…
This was something beyond.
What Rhys Frost did to my pussy over the next sixty seconds was out of this fucking world.
I screamed. A literal, legitimate scream. And he devoured me through the scream, holding me up with one hand and he had two more fingers inside me plunging in and out as he slathered his tongue over my clit. I couldn’t stop coming, the whole universe was this orgasm, this mind-altering detonation, and I wanted to live here forever with his mouth and fingers doing exactly this to me, taking me to this new and unexplored nadir of orgasmic perfection.
Fuck.
I came so hard I started crying, and not a cute little tear down my cheek but actual sobs of climactic release, hips gyrating, grinding on his mouth as he pushed and pushed until I was just…gone.
I fell over, completely limp, flopping onto the bed.
“Fucking…hell,” I gasped. “Rhys…you win.”
“I dunno,” he murmured. “I still can’t feel my face or move my toes.”
A long, weird silence.
“Torie?”
“Yeah, Rhys?”
“Look at me.”
I flopped my head to the side, to look at him. “Yeah?”
I knew what was coming.
“Why did we do that?”
“Do what?”
“Not have sex.”
“I…”
Shit, shit, shit.
“I have condoms in my bag.”
“Rhys…”
“Torie.”
“I’m a virgin.”
He blinked at me. “You…you’re…a virgin?”
“Yes.”
He took my hand, the one he’d come all over, which was still messy. “You knew what you were doing. That was not your first time doing that.”
I closed my eyes. “It’s…complicated.”
“Not really.”
I sighed. “No, not really. I’ve done other stuff. Just not…intercourse.”
“Is that why you didn’t want to start anything? Because it’d be your first time.”
“And I don’t do hookups.”
He barked a laugh. “You certainly don’t.” He rolled out of bed, went to the bathroom.
I heard the sink going and turned to watch. It was a small bathroom and the mirror was placed so there was no privacy if the door was open. So I got to watch as he used a washcloth to clean himself. His cock, his belly, his chest. Then, he wet a new washcloth in steaming water and came over to me, and stood beside me. He took my hand, and gently cleaned each finger, and in between, and my palm and the back, the wrist.
It had the feeling of…an act of tender service.
And then he yanked open his bag, jerked on a pair of shorts, shoved his feet bare into his sneakers, and went for the exit. He opened the door, flipped the deadbolt so the door wouldn’t latch, and left.
“Need a minute to think,” he shot over his shoulder.
Yep, see?
Tell a guy you’re a virgin, and zhooom, off he goes, like a scared little rabbit.
Of course, I did spring it on him moments after we’d given each other earth-shattering orgasms. So maybe it was warranted.
Some time to think about the fact that I, the girl he was clearly very, very turned on by, was a virgin.
I just had to hope he’d come back and say…
What?
What did I want?
I was more confused than ever.
Because pretty much every fiber of my being was screaming and begging for me to have sex with him. Again, and again, and again.
It’d be…everything.
And therein lay the problem: It would be too much everything and I’d never want to stop, and our lives were headed in literally opposite geographical directions.
I collapsed backward onto the bed, naked, confused, glutted from a concussive, mind-melting orgasm, which somehow managed to leave me hornier and needier than ever.
Rhys
She was a virgin?
What—the—hell?
How?
That handjob she gave me was…fucking incredible.
What we’d done had been, to her, not a means to an end, but the entire experience. Touching each other for the sake of touching, to make the other person orgasm, but not via sex.
Bizarre,