He doesn’t have to elaborate; I know what he’s referring to. The light pink skin between my legs.
“A little.”
“They say to give it twenty-four hours.”
Twenty-four hours for what? Katie didn’t mention anything about that.
His right hand reaches down between my legs to slide a finger through the slit again, the act so much more intoxicating in my current predicament. But he doesn’t stop there this time. A light gasp escapes me as he pushes the tip of his index finger into me.
“Tell me the truth: has no one ever touched you like this?” he asks, his mouth pressed against the back of my neck.
“No.”
“Not even your ex?”
I shake my head, closing my eyes as my body welcomes the intrusion.
“Then I’m one lucky bastard.” He pulls his finger out and then slides it back inside again, just the very tip, over and over, at a painstakingly slow rhythm. “Watch me do it,” he commands, and I open my eyes to see the slick moisture coating his skin with each pass.
“You’ve been wanting this for a while, haven’t you?” He slides a second fingertip in, stretching me gently. I squirm a little against, but he doesn’t let up, his thumb reaching for my clit to rub against it. I can’t keep the soft whimper from escaping my lips.
“Good. Let me hear that.” All semblance of the cold Mr. Wolf has vanished. I have a soft and caring and sensual Henry now, and it makes me open up wider for him and grind my ass into his lap as his fingers probe me, pushing inside, until I feel a strange pressure.
“You’re going to give me your virgin pussy, aren’t you.” It’s not so much a question.
“Yes.” I want this man to have it. I want him to teach me everything he knows.
“Good. Take a deep breath for me, Abbi.”
I do, and he angles his hand, pushing his fingers in. I wince with the sudden pinch. It’s not unbearable, but it’s certainly uncomfortable.
It finally dawns on me what Henry did.
“You’ll thank me for doing that now instead of later.” He stills his hand as my body adjusts to having two fingers inside me, but his thumb keeps working small circles around my clit, rubbing with the perfect amount of pressure.
“Does that mean—”
He chuckles. “Don’t worry. You’re still a virgin. For now.” I turn my face to meet his, his chin settled on my shoulder. His mouth kicks up in a sexy smirk, but his eyes don’t shift, locked on what his hand is doing between my legs.
I need to feel his mouth pressed against mine, his tongue slipping against mine, so badly. He hasn’t made a move to kiss me yet, though. There’s no point hesitating anymore. I lean in and coast my lips over the corner of his mouth. His eyes snap to mine and then my mouth, his hand stilling, and I’m afraid I’ve done something wrong.
“Please?” I whisper.
With his free hand, he seizes the back of my head, fisting my hair and angling my head back to give his mouth full access. He takes it aggressively, his tongue invading my mouth, the taste of him overwhelming my senses.
Kissing is one thing I’ve had a lot of practice at, and yet this kiss...
I can’t handle the expertise with which he so quickly and so completely consumes me, thrusting his tongue into my mouth with abandon. It’s nearly more erotic than what he’s doing with his hand down below, and both things happening simultaneously is more than I can handle at once. I pull back from him slightly, sliding my tongue over the seam of his lips in a teasing manner as well as a silent plea that he guide me rather than dominate me.
It seems to work.
“Fuck, your mouth tastes sweet,” he whispers, and suddenly I’m shifting in his powerful arms. My back hits the mattress and his hard, fully clothed body is pressed against my side, my head resting on one of his arms, his hand roaming my naked flesh. “I can’t wait to taste the rest of you.”
My heart jumps in my chest at the thought of his lips down there. But that’s not happening now, I guess, because his mouth is back on mine and his hand begins its rhythmic motion, his fingers pumping in and out of me once again now that the pain has abated.
“Have you ever come before?”
I hesitate and it makes him growl.
“I’m going to know every square inch of your body very soon, Abbi. There’s no point hiding anything from me anymore. So tell me, have you orgasmed before?”
“Yes.” It comes out as a squeak.
He leaves my lips to peer down at me. “By touching yourself?”
I flush, but I can’t truly be ashamed right now, not with his hand inside me. “Obviously.”
He smirks. “Thinking of me?”
I nod. “That night that I saw Katie and Rachel... you know.”
“You enjoyed watching that, didn’t you?”
I purse my lips to hide my embarrassed smile. “I don’t know, honestly. It’s nothing like being with you.”
His fingers curl to find a sensitive spot deep inside and against my belly. He begins rubbing it, all while his thumb keeps working against my clit.
A strange mewling sound escapes my throat as pressure quickly builds inside me. I can feel the strange tingling in my spine that tells me my orgasm isn’t far behind. “What are you doing?” I pant and writhe against his hand, feeling drips of moisture running out of my body and down along my skin. I didn’t think it was possible to be this wet.
“I’m making you come.”
I’ve been hesitant to touch him, but now I reach up to grasp the back of his head and pull him in to my mouth, my fingers weaving through that thick mane of hair that I dreamed about doing this to. It’s even more exquisite than I imagined. My other hand grips his arms, my fingers stretching over the strain in his triceps. I tease inside his lips with the tip of my tongue, earning a deep growl and his mouth pressed hard against mine, his tongue slipping over mine, our saliva pooling and mixing together.
When I finally orgasm, it’s from a depth I never knew possible, my entire body convulsing, my screams neither quiet nor shy. Henry’s skilled hand doesn’t still, dragging every last muscle spasm out in waves until I’m left boneless, my legs splayed to either side, my energy drained. “I’ve never come like that before,” I whisper.
He slips his fingers out of me and stands. I watch him peel off his dress shirt and t-shirt, and toss them to the dresser. I don’t think I could ever get enough of his hard, muscular chest, his skin smooth and tan, his nipples tight.
“Sit up,” he commands, unbuckling his belt and unfastening his pants. His knuckles skate across my lips “I can’t meet people with a raging hard-on.”
He wants a blow job. I shyly reach up to push the wool material of his pants away, my palm grazing against the prominent erection beneath his cotton briefs. It jumps in response. I don’t know how to do this.
“I have complete faith in you,” he whispers, as if he can read my mind. “Start by pulling it out.”
I gingerly push his pants down to his knees and then gently curl my fingertips around the elastic of his boxer briefs, tugging them down, stretching them around his front. His cock emerges, a long, thick rod, angled perfectly toward me.
I never expected to think of a cock as a beautiful thing, but Henry’s can only be described as such. It’s a healthy pinkish-purple, and smooth, the tip soft. I don’t know how my body will ever stretch to fit it inside me, but the pulsing sensation in my belly—only minutes after that mind-blowing orgasm—tells me I’m desperate to find out.
“It’s so big.” I sound like a silly girl when I say that, but it’s true. It was sizeable when I saw him in the shower, across the room. Now it’s literally staring me right in the face.
He smirks, waiting, his eyes blazing with heat and anticipation.
I wrap my hand around the bottom of it, my fingertips barely meeting. I imitate what I watched Henry do to himself, sliding my fist up and down along its length, enthralled with how silky and impossibly hard it feels.