Chapter 23 #2
I look down and see a few tiny smudges of blood on my cock.
Oh no. No. No. Fucking no.
“What the fuck is that?” I ask. I know I should have picked different words. “Are you a fucking virgin?” I ask in horror. Kayla is a virgin.
“Clearly. Got any problem with that?” She moves a little and winces in pain. I look down at my dick, somehow even harder now— a sick bastard —and it is indeed covered in blood.
“Fuck. Kayla, fuck!” That’s the best I can come up with. “You let me take you like I’m a fucking animal on the counter for the first time? I almost fucking split you in two! You should have warned me.”
“I tried.” She’s out of her sexy haze and fixes her corset, putting her gorgeous tits back inside. Such a shame.
“You should have tried fucking harder!” I yell, aggravated with her and myself.
“Well, it is what it is.” She looks around for her clothes, clearly uncomfortable with the situation.
And I should be too. As should my dick. But the fucker is still standing at full attention.
But the way events are unfolding doesn’t seem to scare him—quite the opposite.
It’s ready to split wood. I might join Alex’s club of local lumberjacks who relieve stress by chopping wood, only I’ll be using my dick instead of an axe.
I am an asshole, but even I’m not that big of an asshole to ruin her first time. The first time . Fuck. I’ve never had a virgin before. Even back in high school, it turned out all the cherries were popped before mine. I’ve never had the pleasure of being the bottle opener.
I probably look ridiculous: jeans down to my thighs and my nine inches standing straight up, begging for her attention. I pull my pants up and shove my dick inside. Well, I try, but it doesn’t want to chill. I give up and somehow walk to Kayla, who’s busy picking up her shirt from the floor.
“Come ’ere.” She doesn’t listen. Of course, she doesn’t.
I’d be disappointed if she did, so I grab her hand and pull her to me.
“You should have told me so I’d be gentler.
I fucking shoved inside you like you were a seasoned porn star.
I’m sorry.” She swallows and doesn’t look at me, fidgeting with the shirt in her hands. “Does it still hurt?”
“No,” she mumbles.
“Good. I’m not a small guy, Kayla. I should have never done what I did, even if you weren’t a virgin. Come ’ere.” I tug on her hand, and she finally looks up. “Why do you let people think you are a whore?”
“It’s easier that way.” She shrugs. “I’ve tried to prove myself to everybody, and I eventually got tired of that.
Let them think what they want.” She shrugs again, but not in disregard.
I see hurt in the way her movement becomes jerky.
She might play the part of a warrior, and she may believe herself when she says that the rumors don’t bother her, but they do.
I let go of her hand, grab her by her ass and lift her up, urging her to wrap her legs around me. Her arms automatically go around my neck, and I love the feel of them there .
“What are you doing?” she whispers.
“Fixing my mistakes. I can’t fix all of them, but this one, I can.” I carry her into her bedroom, and it’s surprisingly cozy. A queen bed with girly quilts (I didn’t expect so much pink from Kayla) covered with pillows.
I carefully lay her on the bed, moving the pillows aside. She lifts her torso to lean on her elbows and watches me. I crawl on top of her and start unbuttoning her corset. Thousands of those little hooks on the front of it are about to drive me mad, and I ask. “How much do you like this one?”
“I love it,” she whispers.
“I’ll buy you another one.” And I rip it apart, finally freeing her tits. She has a lotus sternum tattoo, in color. And it looks so fucking delicious that I lick it from top to bottom, lightly touching her breasts. Her breathing quickens as she laughs.
“It’s ticklish,” she says, and the happiness I hear in her voice makes me feel better. She’s relaxed now, no pain. Good .
I move my trail of kisses up to her neck, where I suck on her skin.
This vulnerable place where the neck connects with a shoulder is always sensitive.
I bite it lightly, and her hips nudge forward.
I smile into her skin, knowing that she just keeps proving that she will be magnificent in bed.
She likes what I like, I can tell. And even if she doesn’t know what she likes, I’ll show her.
That fuckface’s never been here. Me, only me.
I’ll teach her everything there is to learn.
She puts her hand on my shoulders, moving them to my pecs, but I grab her wrist with one hand and bring them above her head.
“No, baby. Not now. If you touch me, the game is over, and I want it to be pleasurable for you.”
“It’s already pleasurable for me.” She pouts, and I just bring my mouth to hers, shutting her up. My other hand travels to her stomach, covering the lower part of her belly completely. I don’t know why I do that, but I like my hand there. It feels… right .
Our tongues dance slowly with each other, touching ever so lightly before interweaving together like they are one. With every deep stroke of my tongue, my hips buckle forward. My dick’s been hard forever, and I’m about to come in my pants.
When she wraps her legs around my torso and begins moving her hips into mine, looking for friction, I give up. I let go of her wrists and rip her panties off.
“I loved those too,” she whispers through my kiss.
“I’ll buy you more,” I say as I grab her ass and move her pussy along my pants.
“Take them off. Now,” she says in a commanding voice. I realize I like it. With a smirk, I let go of her for a second and pull my pants and boxers down as fast as humanly possible.
I look at her: she’s flushed, her face and chest are pink and sweaty, and she’s constantly licking her lips. She is ready. I want more.
I smile and slide down her body, reaching my target.
“Oh, hell no. Here. Now!” She grabs me by my hair and pulls me up. I start chuckling, but she silences me with a kiss. Oh, I knew she’d be wicked.
She dips her hand down and wraps her little fingers around my dick.
They feel so different from mine. So gentle and soft.
For the past few months, my hand was the only thing that touched him, and her hands feel like heaven.
She’s trying a few strokes, slower and then faster, she’s trying the texture, getting the feel of it, and I let her explore.
When our kiss speeds up, her hands follow the lead, and eventually, I can’t take it anymore.
“Kayla,” I beg into the kiss.
She understands and aligns my cock with her pussy, but then she hesitates, so I ask, “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’m just…” She lets it hang in the air, and I understand.
“I got you.” I give her another kiss, grab my cock and gently nudge it inside.
She’s so fucking tight I’m about to blow, but I slowly push forward, pulling away from the kiss and carefully watching her face for any signs of pain.
But there are none. Her mouth is slightly ajar, her cheeks flushed, so I push more.
And more. Then I pull back out and push more, a few times just like that, and I’m fully sheathed inside.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” she whispers, and I begin moving.
Slow, deliberate strokes. Very slow. I watch her face with every single move.
How her eyes widen with every push. How her mouth forms the cutest o when I hit the right spot.
How her head falls backward as the feeling inside of her builds up to a breaking point.
I bring my mouth down and suck on the soft skin of her neck, causing her to inhale loudly. She loves it; I can tell because her hips are speeding up, urging me to follow. And I gladly oblige.
I move my hips faster, the strokes becoming deeper and harder. But even now, I watch her, even when I’m so deep in the passion I have to make sure she is good. It doesn’t feel like my regular fucking. This feels… different.
At this point, I’m about to burst, but she’s not there yet.
“Justin,” she whispers. “Please. ”
“Yes, baby, tell me what you need,” I ask through gritted teeth, sweat dripping from my temples.
“I—” She wants to say something, but she’s shy. It’s her first time, for fuck’s sake. Even though she has that foul mouth on her, she doesn’t know how to voice her desires yet. I can help her.
“My hand? You want my hand?” I say as I suck on her earlobe.
“Yes, your hand.” She sighs in relief.
“Where do you want it, Kayla?”
“Everywhere,” she whispers like she’s letting me in on a huge secret.
I smile as I move my body a little to the side, letting the weight off her, and plant my hand on her throat, moving the other one lower.
I find her clit, and I play with it, making little, fast circles.
I watch her face as I do it. Her mouth is open, and she’s biting on her lower lip.
She is so ready. I squeeze her throat a little harder as I push into her with long, hard strokes.
And she comes undone, and I watch her ride that high.
That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. The most gorgeous. The most precious. Kayla Adams, during her orgasm, will be forever imprinted in my brain.
As her inner muscles begin violently squeezing my dick, I can’t take it anymore and spill inside her. It’s officially the longest orgasm I’ve ever had in my thirty-one years of life. And the most violent one. I just keep spilling and spilling and spilling inside of her until I’m fully spent.
Inside of her.
Inside of her.
Fuck!
I forgot about the most crucial part during sex .
“Kayla, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry,” I apologize as soon as I’m able to control my voice again.
“For what?” She looks petrified. She still has this post-orgasmic glow, but her eyes quickly sober up.
“I forgot a condom. Fuck, it’s the first time I ever forgot a condom. Whatever happens, I’ll help,” I state and realize that I’m not scared of what might happen.
“Whatever happens?” she repeats.
“Yes, if you, you know, get pregnant or something.”
Her eyes widen, and she laughs. “We’re good; I’m on the pill.”
“Why are you on the pill? Were you planning on doing it? With him?” A new wave of anger erases all the high I just reached.
“Oh my gosh, Justin, women can be on birth control without having a man in their lives. Shocker, I know.” She grabs a comforter and pulls it over her. I stand up, so she doesn’t have to move my body to get under the covers.
“So you weren’t planning on having sex with him?” Whatever she said hasn’t registered in my brain.
“Why are you so obsessed with him?” she throws at me accusingly.
“I’m not obsessed with him. I’m obsessed with you,” I say, surprising us both.
Her eyes widen, and she blinks slowly, watching me. Once she gets her wits together (I should do that too), she says, “I’m clean, by the way. In case you were wondering. It’s not like I was whoring around, as you know.” She quirks her eyebrow, and I feel my cheeks pinken in shame of my assumptions.
“Me too. Never done it without a condom, and I get regular checkups anyway. Haven’t been with anyone since my last one.” I’m not ashamed to share it because she needs to know I’m not putting her at risk here.
“Must have been yesterday,” she snorts.
“What?” I go to the bathroom for a quick cleanup, and she follows.
“Your last checkup,” she clarifies.
“Actually, about eight months, I think.” To think of it, maybe even nine.
I clean myself with wet wipes while watching her every move.
How her hand disappears between her legs, cleaning the wetness I created.
How it moves across her thighs—the same ones I held onto a few moments ago.
And just like that, I’m getting hard again.
She doesn’t notice my intense stare as she finishes cleaning up and goes to the bedroom.
This time around, I’m the one following her.
“W-what?” she stutters while climbing into the bed. “You haven’t been with anyone?”
“Yeah, been busy.”
“For eight months?” Her face looks like she just realized Santa Clause isn’t real.
“Yeah, for eight months.” This conversation is making me uncomfortable. As if I should be embarrassed for not fucking the whole city. I crawl to bed and say, “Scoot over.”
“What?” She looks gobsmacked.
“Scoot over so I can lay down.”
She silently moves to one side, looking at me cautiously, like I can pounce on her anytime now.
And I can, seeing as my dick roars to life again the second I catch a glimpse of her tits.
I climb under the covers, grab her, and pull her toward me.
She’s surprised, as am I because I’m not a cuddler.
But with her, all bets are off, or so it seems.
Her head lands in the groove of my shoulder, her tight fist on my chest. I want her to throw her leg over me and relax, but she’s cautious, and I don’t blame her.
I wrap my arm around her and begin making small calming circles on her back.
Eventually, her little fist relaxes, and her palm lands on my pec.
“You have insomnia. Why are you in bed?”
“Just to let my body relax.” I sigh. I don’t sleep, and it’s taking a toll on me. A significant one, seeing as I’ve been up for less and less hours between crashing, and I’m only thirty-one. At this rate, my body would give up on me way faster than I anticipated.
“Okay,” she answers quietly and yawns.
She’s asleep a moment later. A soft snore tickles the skin of my chest, and I find that I like the sound. In fact, I like a lot of things that happened today.