Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
VERITY
I’m not sure how it happens but instead of being downstairs, making Warrick food rather than letting him serve me like it’s his job and life purpose, I’m standing in front of him, letting him tug my shirt up and over my head until I’m only wearing my old and graying bra and equally unattractive panties.
But he isn’t looking at me like I’m a disaster. His gaze devours me like I’m a melting popsicle on the hottest day of the year.
I lost my virginity yesterday, gave my first blow job, and was the recipient of so many orgasms I lost count. Today it’s definitely my turn to show him I have some value to offer to this relationship and that I don’t need to be taken care of like I’m incapable.
But when he reaches for me, I don’t step back. I let him unfasten my bra and slip my crappy panties down my legs. I let him drag me onto the mattress and beneath him again. Then I let him shuffle down my body until his face is level with my pussy, that’s dripping and excited to see him.
“Look at you, amore mio. Why get out of bed when you’re this needy?” he coos, his voice liquid aphrodisiac.
“I wanted,” I start, but he places a finger over my lips and silences me.
“I know what you need.”
His fingers part me, and his tongue lasers in on my clit like it has a homing beacon. The sounds that come from my lips barely sound human, but I feel it vibrate through me. An animalistic need that I didn’t know existed until literally this second.
I tense, expecting it to hurt when he carefully slips one, then two fingers inside of me, but instead of pain, there’s only a lingering soreness that is almost immediately overridden by the jolt of pleasure I feel.
In the past twenty years while my libido was locked down tighter than a bank vault, I had no idea just how wet my sex could get.
But after only seconds of him touching me, I can already feel my arousal dripping down my ass, as the sound of my body eagerly accepting his fingers becomes our soundtrack.
A heady scent of excitement, anticipation, and my own body’s desperation quickly saturates the air, while he licks at my clit with his tongue and fills me with his fingers.
Tensing when he withdraws his fingers from inside of me, I go rigid when he slips his soaked hand further down my body until he’s using my own desire to coat my only remaining first.
Until I met Warrick, sex wasn’t on my radar, and anal sex was just something the girls at the club charged double for. I never imagined myself ever doing it, let alone having a deep-seated desire to gift that part of my body to anyone.
But there’s something about the man who is carefully teasing my hole with his fingertip that makes me feel like I need to do this.
Like giving him this part of me will settle something inside me.
No, it’s more than that. I want to gift him this, because so far, he’s given me everything, and I’m all I have to offer in return.
A part of me wonders if that’s wrong, if it’s transactional, like I’m bartering myself for his kindness and affection.
But as I consider if that’s what I’m doing, that feels wrong too.
Warrick cares for me. He wants me. He wants to do things for me.
He’s been open and honest and unapologetic about how he feels about me, and while I’m not sure what this is between us, I can do this for him.
I can give him this. Because so far, that’s all he’s asked of me.
“Relax, amore mio, let me make you gush for me,” he coaxes, teasing my ass with two fingers while he uses his other hand to push a single finger into my sex.
Still teasing my clit with his tongue, my body lights up like fireworks on the Fourth of July have detonated inside of me.
I don’t have time to process what’s happening as he slips a finger past the tight ring of muscle I hadn’t noticed he was softening.
The invasion of his finger in my ass feels foreign, but I don’t have time to explore the sensation, because he slides a second finger to join the first inside my sex, igniting a rush of liquid to seep out of me as my body starts to tingle.
“So wet, so fucking perfect,” he praises, making me groan as he works my ass wide enough to slide another finger in alongside the first.
My body feels stretched beyond capacity. With two fingers in my sex and two in my ass, I can barely breathe, my chest heaving in short pants that leave me incapable of making anything but grunted whines and moans.
Withdrawing the fingers in my sex until only the tips are stretching me, his fingers in my ass start to move, slowly pushing deeper, twisting and widening until a guttural whimper falls from my parted lips.
If I was more aware, I’d probably be impressed with his ability to multitask, because while his tongue is lapping a drugging rhythm, his fingers work in opposition; the fingers in my pussy pushing deep, while the ones in my ass retreat.
In and out, he alternates, filling my ass, then my pussy, while his tongue flicks and licks me, keeping my body in a constant state of excitement.
My hips rock, asking for more that I don’t fully understand, but that he seems to get, as his whispered praise becomes dirty promises.
“I’m going to fuck your ass so good, amore mio.
I’m going to push my thick cock into you and take your last first. I’m going to make your ass mine and pump my cum into you until your hole can’t hold anymore.
I know you need me, but I won’t give you my cock until you’re dripping for me, desperate and needy.
Once you’re all ready for me, I’m going to pin your legs to your chest and fill you.
I’m going to give you exactly what you need, but not until you beg me for it. ”
Is that what I need? My body is tense and yearning and needy, and god, I want something, but I’m not sure if that’s an orgasm or his dick inside me or what. But it’s something that I think only he can give me, and I want it now.
Pressure and burning pulse through my ass as he does something that drags me from the precipice of bliss, and I feel myself blink as insecurity starts to fester.
Parting my lips, I try to speak, but his tongue laps at my clit, licking and circling, and I detonate, coming with a cry that is half pain, half pleasure, and all want.
Time loses all meaning as I beg and beg and beg Warrick, over and over, desperate and needy.
So needy. One minute. Two. Five. Ten. More pass while he works my body until all I am is need.
When his dick finally pushes into me, it hurts in the best way, burning heat and desire that morphs into an orgasm that blazes so bright I’m surprised sparks aren’t flying off me and setting the bed on fire.
I come so hard my muscles crack and burn while Warrick pumps into me, taking and claiming and owning my last first, my last virginity. I don’t know if I wanted this or if he wanted it and I wanted to give it to him, but who cares when it feels this good? This right?
His hips pound into me, but the harder he fucks me, the harder I orgasm, until my eyesight goes black and the sound of our bodies coming together becomes a distant buzzing inside my head while I slowly blink back to reality.
When I finally open my eyes, his lips are an inch from mine, his pupils blown wide and full of an emotion I don’t recognize.
“I love you. I know it’s too soon and too much, but fuck, I love you,” he rasps, his voice rough and ragged.
“You can’t love me,” I pant, a hint of hysteria seeping into my voice.
“I think I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you,” he says with a smile.
Shaking my head, I deny his words. This isn’t love. Not yet, at least. I don’t know what it is, but it’s not love.
My eyes drift closed, not sleeping, but not fully awake either.
I’m only distantly aware of him slipping from my body, leaving me dripping and open and so lonely that silent tears fill my eyes and slide down my cheeks.
Determined to hide the desolation I don’t understand, I roll toward him and let sleep drag me under.
The sun is high in the sky by the time I wake up again. I’m sticky, the dried sweat, arousal, and cum making my skin feel tight and itchy. My ass feels stretched and sore, and my muscles tighten with pain as I tentatively stretch my legs.
“Amore mio, let me help,” Warrick says, carefully repositioning me a little higher on the pillows as he reaches for a glass of juice, holding it to my lips.
I want to reject his help, but I don’t, allowing him to slowly tip the cool juice into my mouth. “I made us breakfast while you slept,” he says quietly, dragging a tray heaped with plates full of waffles, bacon, and berries up the bed toward us.
“I’m not hungry,” I say, my voice too quiet.
Ignoring me, he cuts off a bite-sized piece of waffle, dips it into the syrup, then brings it to my lips, patiently waiting for me to eat it.
The sight of it makes me…angry, but I don’t know why. It’s a waffle. He cooked for me, which should be a good thing, not something that makes me want to yell or cry or sling the whole tray across the room.
“You need to eat,” Warrick prompts sweetly.
But how does he know what I need? He said I needed him.
He said I needed to give him my virginity.
He said I needed to suck his cock, and then he said I needed to let him fuck my ass, but now all I feel is empty and sad.
He told me I needed all these things that have made my emotions spike so high, and now so low, that I don’t know what to do or how to feel normal again.