Chapter 12 Marina #2
I can’t even react. This big naked man is right up against me, one hand disappearing into my hair. He kisses me, softly, sweetly, enough so that all my worries and hang-ups start to melt, like an ice cream cone in the sun. I’m dripping into his hands, his touch, his lips.
While our kiss deepens, our tongues moving harder yet slower and then faster against each other, his large hands slip to my shoulders, palming them briefly before running the straps down. They reach around, pushing down the back of my dress, undoing my bra.
I know what he’s doing and I couldn’t appreciate it more. He’s removing my bra without removing my dress. He knows what makes me feel more comfortable.
He pulls my bra out, the straps briefly getting tangled before he throws it on the armchair.
He kisses every bare inch of skin. Neck, collarbone, shoulders, arms, the swells of my breasts. My nipples harden underneath the fabric as his fingers brush past them teasingly. My breath hitches in my throat, needing more from him, wanting more, yet being afraid of getting it.
He drops to his knees. My hands go to his hair, wrapping his locks around my fingers and holding tight because if I don’t, I’ll fall right over.
I peer down at him, stealing a look, watching the muscles in his back move, the tattoos he has back there. I see words I can’t read etched below his shoulder blades.
His head goes back as he stares up at me with an open, wanting expression. His hands trail up my calves, up my thighs, going under my dress and rising up, up, up, his palm shooting electricity into my skin. His eyes never leave mine.
I’m holding my breath. I don’t care. How could anyone breathe through this? I’m afraid if I exhale, everything might blow away, dissolving like a dream.
This is Laz.
On his knees.
Looking up at me like I’m his place of worship.
No matter what happens, don’t forget this. Don’t forget this.
His fingers keep going up the outside of my thighs, wrapping around the lacy edge of my underwear.
He pulls them down, slowly, inch by inch. Even the silky fabric brushing down against my inner thighs makes my body shiver.
I lean into him, step out of them. Slip off my heels.
“Get on the bed,” he says thickly. “On your back.”
“Okay,” I say, my voice so tiny and thin against his. I’m actually glad he’s being bossy, I wouldn’t know what to do otherwise.
I go to the bed, lie down on top of the cool covers.
Lift my head and watch as Laz comes to the foot of the bed and gets on it, prowling between my legs which I instinctively open wider for him.
He doesn’t say a word but he gives me a look, a hungry one, an amazed one, and that’s when I slowly lean my head back into the bed, close my eyes, my fingers gripping the covers already in preparation for what’s to come.
Just breathe, I remind myself but then I’m gasping for breath as he parts my legs with his hands and pulls my dress up to my waist so I’m completely exposed and bare for him.
Is this really happening?
This is really happening.
And that’s when I remember that I did shave. Whether it was just stupid luck or wishful thinking, thank god.
Laz groans, his thumbs slowly dragging across the soft flesh of my inner thighs, spreading them further. “You’re beautiful.” His voice is ragged, hushed, low. I feel it in every part of me. I believe it.
It’s enough that I relax. That I take it all in, relish the feel of his hands as they squeeze my skin, parting me.
His head goes between my legs, his stubble scraping like sandpaper against my thighs. His mouth presses against my most sensitive parts.
I gasp, then gasp louder as his tongue slowly snakes out and licks down the middle of me, swirling slowly over my clit with the cool, hard press of his tongue ring.
Fuck. Fuck.
Fuck!
I’ve never had a guy go down on me before. I’ve never met someone who wanted to do it enough to bring it up and I obviously never would. So everything I’m feeling is only what I’ve dreamed of and…fuck. It’s the only word I have for this, this…This is better than what I imagined.
Good lord, if this isn’t a prerequisite for fucking, it should be.
His tongue is wet, warm, firm then soft, the ball of his tongue ring providing constant pressure as he’s licking me up and down.
Like he’s lapping up the most decadent dessert and wants to savor every last bit.
And with each pass of his tongue, my body is shocked, again and again, firecrackers lighting up along each nerve until I’m ready to explode.
Laz moans into me and that just sends me into overdrive. I grab his hair again, which I’ve decided is my favorite thing to do and my thighs gently squeeze the sides of his head, which is now my second favorite thing to do.
He responds by deepening his moan, the vibrations rumbling through me, bringing me to the edge. All my nerves are wrapping tighter and tighter and tighter around themselves, ready to snap, dying to unravel.
“I’m close,” I whisper. I tug at his hair, hard enough to bring up his head. “I’m close,” I tell him again.
He frowns at me between my legs, his mouth wet from my desire. I’m hit with the fact that for whatever reason, this doesn’t seem odd or weird at all. Yes, it’s Laz but…
This is the Laz that I always should have known.
“But this is the start of the evening of a thousand orgasms,” he says. “It’s not just a clever name. I’m going to make you come in my mouth and you’re going to come fucking hard.”
I swallow hard. Good lord, his words…
But I can be direct too.
“I want to come with you inside me.”
“Jesus,” he says harshly, more to himself. “You can’t say things like that Marina or I’m going to lose it.”
“Come inside me,” I say again, finding courage, finding strength, fueled by this urgent need for intimacy, for Laz to have me as no other man has.
“Sweet, sweet girl,” he whispers to me as he starts crawling over me, “you’re going to ruin me, aren’t you?”
“Pretty sure you’ll ruin me first.”
“I’ll go slow,” he says, running his hands up my sides until they cup my breasts. “Don’t worry about the sheets.”
But that’s not at all what I meant. At all.
My vibrators may not be as oversized as Laz is, but I have used them consistently and in many different ways.
I’m pretty sure there will be none of the usual hymen-blasting signs of sex afterward.
I mean, I’m a virgin but I’m not sixteen.
I have a sex drive. I have fantasies. Needs. Wants. I’m more than ready.
The real question is whether Laz will ruin me in the long run.
We’ve already stepped over that fuzzy grey line that separated friends from lovers.
I’ll go as far as to say that line was crossed when we went out on our first date.
But after this, the biggest lines of all, I don’t think there is any going back.
I’m not just about to have sex with Laz.
I’m about to lose my virginity to him.
Something that’s been shameful, a burden, like the opposite of a Scarlet letter.
I’m not a whore but I’m too far gone on the other side.
Too innocent, too good, too perfect. And deep down, too damaged and fucked up.
It’s a complicated cross I’ve had to bear and unless you’re a twenty-nine-year-old virgin, then you don’t really know how heavy that cross is.
And now it’s almost all over. Once I give that to Laz, he’ll be imprinted in me in more ways than one. In some ways, I should have just fucked someone else a long time ago, because the first time I slept with Laz was going to be heavy anyway.
But that moment is long gone. And now I’m giving myself to him, a man I’m in love with, a man I hope will carry my heart with his for as long as he can.
If things fall apart after this…
“You okay?” Laz asks above me, a lock of dark hair falling across his forehead. His arms are propped up on either side of my head, his hips pressed against my thighs, his legs parting my legs. His cock is hard as concrete, pressing down against me.
“I’m okay,” I manage to say, giving him a small smile.
“If I’m hurting you…”
“If I don’t like it, I’ll make you stop.” I pause. “Condom?”
Please don’t make me pull out Jane’s.
“Right,” he says, sounding sheepish.
He gets off of me and picks up his pants from the floor and immediately I feel bereft at his absence. I also feel silly because there I am pretty much fully clothed on the bed while he’s buck naked, his firm, gorgeous ass facing mine. I want to bite it so bad.
While his back is turned, I pull my dress over my head and now I’m completely naked. At least the position is flattering. And flattening.
He turns around and stops in his tracks once he sees me. I swear I see his cock move, get even harder. I fight the urge to run my hands down between my legs and touch myself, even though I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. Maybe another night.
What if there isn’t another night? that nagging voice pops up in my head. What if this is it?
But that voice can shut the fuck up right now.
“You’re something to write about,” he whispers, voice choked in awe. “Look at you. Look at how absolutely perfect you are.”
I give him a shaky smile. “You’d write a poem about me?”
A quiet intensity comes over his eyes. “I’ve written countless poems about you. But I don’t share them. They’re all in one tattered notebook at home.”
I blink. Oh my god. There’s a secret Marina book?
“They’re not even in your published book?”
He gives his head a tiny shake. “No,” he says softly. “Those words are about us, for us. They’re too intimate for anyone else.”
My heart is doing that thing again, swelling like a balloon, threatening to burst.
All this time…
Laz tears the foil packet in his hands, the sound bringing me back to what’s about to happen and I watch with big eyes as he takes the condom and slips it on with the kind of precision I don’t want to know about. It goes over his piercings with ease.
His piercings. I guess that’s something I should think about.
“Do I, uh, need lube for those?” I say to him as he comes over to the bed.