If he wanted, he could hold me in one hand. That was the sense I got, anyway. He could hold me or tear me apart—with one hand.
“Take off your clothes,” he said, and then jumped over the couch, heading for the other hallway.
I was astounded to see that I still had my top on. I ripped it over my head and lay down on the couch, which felt like butter, soft against my skin.
How odd to be lying down in this strange room in front of a wall full of windows when I couldn’t do it in my own trailer, the curtains shut.
Suddenly shy, I sat up, looking for my underwear.
He came back into the room and stepped around the couch to stand beside me. He had a silver strip of condoms in his teeth. Watching me, he pushed down his pants and stepped out of them. His boots had been kicked off in his bedroom. He tore one condom off the strip and tossed the others down on the ottoman.
I reached for him, touching the bottom of the soft sac behind his penis, and he twitched and then reached for me, skipping my thigh, skipping everything but the heart of me.
His fingers spread my folds and then slid right inside of me.
I gasped. Arched. My breasts shimmied with the motion.
He added another finger and I groaned.
“It’s good?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“It’s going to be better when it’s my cock. I’m going to fill you all the way up, Annie.”
“Hurry,” I breathed. He ripped the condom open with his teeth and pushed it on and then sat down at my feet on the couch.
“Come here,” he murmured. And I must have moved too slowly because he pulled me up into his lap. He pulled me so hard I practically flew against him. He kissed me, deep and hard. And I kissed him back just as hard. Just as frantic.
And then he grabbed my ass. Grabbed all my ass he could. Grabbed my ass like he wanted to rob it.
“Oh God, oh my God. Please, do something. I need you to do something,” I whispered into his neck. “Or I’m going to do it myself.” I reached my hand down my body like I was going to make myself come, but he grabbed my hand and held it behind my back.
I leaned away from his neck, looked him in the eye.
“Lift yourself up,” he said.
And I did, wobbling a little against his chest.
With his free hand he reached behind me and then slowly began pushing me down onto him and I felt him…there at my pussy. Too hard. Too big.
I cried out. Moaned. Suddenly scared. Suddenly worried. I tried to climb off of him.
“Does it hurt?”
“Too…it’s too much.”
“Go slow. Take me slow.”
I shook my head.
“Annie, baby, look at me,” he said. And when our eyes met the fear was gone. The worry evaporated. It was just us. And he cared.
“Do you want to stop?”
I shook my head, words beyond me.
The hand on my shoulder did not hold me or force me. It was just…there. Letting me set the pace. Which was slow, my body accepting his inch by inch. And what had seemed foreign was just…right.
“It’s never felt like this before,” I whispered.
Sweat poured off of me. Pooled between us. We were slick and we were heaving. And his patience and my trust made this something totally new.
Finally, I was seated hard against him. Our hips so tight it nearly hurt, and I was gasping with every breath.
“Now what?”
He smiled. “Hold on,” he whispered. My head was too heavy to hold up, my body too cumbersome to control, so I put my head down on his neck and let him do it. Let him move me. He grabbed onto my hips, pushing and pulling me against him in a slow, hard grind.
I could feel him inside of me, brushing up against nerve endings I didn’t know existed, creating a kind of burn I’d never dreamed of. But when he pulled me toward him, he pushed up against my clit, creating the pressure I loved, and the combination of the two things with the heat of him, the strength of him all around me…very soon, it wasn’t enough anymore.
I shifted harder against him and I could feel his breath catch, felt it in my chest cavity. And suddenly it was game over.
He tilted us sideways and laid me out on that couch, my legs spread wide around his hips, my hands on his