Chapter 34
CRUTCH
I’m thankful Lulu doesn’t have experience.
My only prayer is that she will think three minutes is a very long time. Because I’ll be lucky to make it that long without blowing my load.
Her kisses are wild and hungry tonight, driving me into a depth of longing that I’ve never felt before. Her moans are louder, her body hotter, swollen and tender. She slides her legs down, and I hold on tightly to her waist, making sure her feet are steady. We’re standing at the edge of the blow-up mattress, and I don’t want her to trip.
“Ry, it’s time. I’m gonna wrap my hand around you. And I’m gonna put my mouth on you. And I want you to lead me. Tell me. Show me what you like. Show me how to make you feel as good as you make me feel.”
Kill me now.
Lulu has gotten more and more verbal with each and every orgasm I’ve given her. Moaning, screaming, writhing. And dirty talk. Each time gets a little dirtier. And I fucking love it.
Without any hesitation whatsoever, she sinks to her knees. Grabbing the band of my boxer briefs, she tugs them down, taking gentle care to lift them over my bobbing erection. She gasps, staring at my body in stunned silence. She doesn’t even untangle my underwear from my feet. I have to step out of them and kick them to the side.
Looking down at her, she’s the most gorgeous creature I’ve ever seen. That I’ll ever see. I push the hair away from her face. It flows down her back like a stream of maple syrup. “Have you seen a naked man before?”
“In pictures.”
“Never in person?”
“Of course not, Ry.”
I’m impatient to know more. “Well, what do you think?”
Her awed whisper makes me want to weep, cry like a freaking baby. “You’re gorgeous. It’s —your dick— is sexy. Powerful. Big. Huge. I’m completely astonished to think that one day it will be inside of me. Am I big enough for you to fit? It’s all forbidden and perfect. Don’t you think together, we’ll be perfect?” She glances up at me, her eyelids heavy with lust.
Did I mention I’m ready to die?
Kill. Me. Now.
She lifts her hand in the air, fingers twitching. “I can’t wait anymore.”
Grabbing her hand, I show her. I show her what I like. And I talk to her. I tell her that I’m just like her, that sometimes I want a gentle touch. And other times, I need it harder, rougher. I slide her hand over my slit, spreading my pre-cum over my cock. I pump myself slowly and then faster, telling her how both rhythms feel good for different kinds of pleasure. I show her how hard she can grab my balls before causing pain.
Then, I leave her to her own devices. And as with everything else in life, Lulu is a quick learner. A complete natural. My body is already drenched in sweat and my quads are twitching. I can’t make it much longer. She’s taking me over the edge. The edge I want to jump right over and fall from. My mouth is dry, the words barely escaping. “Lulu, I’m so close.”
Immediately, she yanks her hand away from my body. Oh, shit. I scared her. The lava boiling in my body simmers, shouting in pain for an eruption. “Lulu, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you. I’ve got to finish this, though. I can go outside and finish myself.”
“No!” Her hands wrap around my thighs, locking me into place. “Ryland Joseph Crutchfield, don’t even think about it. You didn’t push me. I just don’t want your first orgasm from me to be from my hand. I want it to be from my mouth. Just like the one you gave me.”
KILL. ME. NOW.
“How do I do it?”
I’m surprised the English language is still a part of my vocabulary. I’m not even sure how I spit the words out, but I do. “Lick me, Lulu. That’s how to start.”
She absorbs my every word, follows my every request, moves her body every direction, as I gently guide her head. She works her mouth over my length, taking me as deep as she can, sucking my soul from existence. A couple of times, her teeth scrape against my sensitive skin. It doesn’t bother me. I admire her. I’m not gonna lie; I’m pretty damn big. And giving me a blow job can’t be easy. Many girls have said as much.
The sounds she makes when she’s sucking my cock should be a criminal act in the lower forty-eight. Those sounds are maddening, fascinating, intriguing. Too damn alluring for my own good.
My legs begin to shake uncontrollably, my stomach muscles vibrate with need, and my ass clenches in preparation of an earth-shattering release. I massage her head with my fingertips.
Holy shit. It’s never felt this good.
Never. Ever. Ever. Ever.
My growl is low, rumbling in my chest. “Lulu, it’s time. It’s okay; you can stop if you want.”
But she doesn’t back away. She doesn’t stop. She doesn’t leave her position.
My orgasm steals the breath from my lungs, steals the thoughts from my mind, and steals the love from heart. Hot spurts of desire flow from my body, and Lulu swallows every last drop. Pumping me dry. Leaving me fresh, new, and spotless. And I’m not just talking about my dick. Has she cleansed me of my impurities? Can I one day be the man she deserves? Give her a life worth living? Give her more than a crappy tent?
She untangles herself from my body and rubs her jaw with her hand. “You taste clean and salty. Is that what I taste like?” She looks up at me. Her lips are bee-stung, and her face is flush from exertion. “Did I do okay? Did you like it?”
Tugging her from the floor, I ravish her in a kiss. I taste the salt of my body on her tongue and it makes me kiss her even harder. She wraps her arms around my neck, bending my body close to hers. I’m still pretty hard, and she knows it. When my cock rubs against her stomach, she groans. I sweep her into my arms and lie her down on the mattress. Hooking my fingers in her panties, I slowly drag them down. Settling between her mile-long legs, I bury my face in her soaking wet pussy. I barely do anything at all, and she’s coming all over my face. Making me hard as a damn rock again. Like concrete. Like steel.
Instead of wiping my face with my hand, I slowly climb over her body. My lips and chin are dripping with her juices. “Kiss me, Lulu. Lick my chin.” She immediately does as she’s told. “That’s what you taste like. You taste like My Lulu and it’s my favorite flavor in the whole wide world.”
She blushes. When she takes a deep breath, her pussy rises to meet me. I quickly roll to the side before my animalistic behavior has me doing something we’re both not ready for. Instead, I trace her thighs with my fingers, working my way to her clit, driving her to the brink of another orgasm. My finger delves into her, gently teasing. Reaching between her legs, she grabs my hand, pushing me a little deeper.
Her words are loud. Very loud. “More. Deeper. Go deeper, Ry. Use another finger. I want two fingers.”
I always use my pinky finger inside of her. That’s all that will fit without any force. And that only works, I’m assuming, because of her use of tampons. Not to mention, I’ve got giant hands. I kiss her eyelids, forcing her to open her eyes. “Lulu, I can’t. Not without hurting you. I feel too much pressure inside of you, too much resistance. If I do more, I’ll…” my voice trails off, worried about the best way to describe what I want to say. “If I do more, I’ll pop you, break you.”
She nods. “I know. I want you to do it. Now.”
My jaw twitches. In excitement. In wonder. In concern. “What? Why?”
“I know it will hurt the first time we have sex. Especially after seeing your size tonight. But I want it to be as pleasurable as possible. I wanna make myself ready so I can focus solely on the joy of the experience. Don’t you want me to be ready for you?”
“Of course, I do. But there’s no going back once this is done. You understand that, right?” My passionate words feel thick as molasses on my tongue. “Once I bury my fingers inside you, once I stretch you, and claim the deepest parts of your pussy for myself, there’s no going back. I’d be your first. I’d be the one who marked you. For all eternity.”
She tugs me to her lips, kissing me until I’m so dizzy I don’t even know what direction is up and what direction is down. Her low and sultry whisper hums in my brain, fogging my every sense. “Break me. Claim me. Mark me as yours.”
Fuck. Me.
I reach behind me, grabbing a small blanket that’s easy to wash. “Lift up. Put this underneath you.”
“Why? Will I bleed that much?”
“I’m not sure. I would think so.”
“You don’t know? You’ve never done this before?”
No, I’ve never finger-fucked a virgin before. At least not that I know of. I mean, I guess it could’ve happened. But unfortunately, I’ve not been a super-concerned or super-attentive lover with the women of my past. I did get super concerned when that one girl from the college bookstore wanted to shit on me, but other than that, I typically did the deed without much foreplay and got the hell out of dodge. Diplomatically, I choose to keep some of those horrid thoughts and memories to myself.
I lean close to her face, studying her every feature, absorbing it all, committing it to memory. “You’re the only girl I will ever mark, Lulu. Never before you. Never after you.”
A tear falls from the corner of her eye. I plunge my tongue into her mouth. She gives back, clawing at my shoulders with her fingernails. I don’t give her time to prepare. I don’t warn her. I don’t give her time to dwell on it. I immediately plunge two of my fingers into her darkest depth, twisting and pushing when I feel resistance. She tenses and cries out. I swallow her cries with my mouth.
Pulling my fingers out, I perform the same motion over and over. Sweeping into her with a twisting movement, trying to stretch her to the far sides, to the breaking point. Pressing deep into her, I wanna make the painful part as quick as possible. I’m ready for the pleasure. I’m ready to explore the hidden parts of her. Find the spots that make her go wild and buck against me. The spots that make her beg for more.
After a very long time, her body relaxes, and her frozen kisses melt. I’m so damn relieved that her kisses aren’t angry. She’s tasting and biting like a lover showering me with thanks.
Slowly, I pull my fingers from her body and lift them between us. Under the soft glow from one of the battery-operated lanterns, we look in fascination at what is before us. My fingers are stained pink with her blood. Some fine strings of bright red circle my nails and my knuckles. But more importantly, the white cream of her desire coats me from fingertip to palm.
“Did it hurt? Do you hurt? It might take a while before you can tell me what feels good inside of you. I want to find the spots that make you scream my name.”
She nods, biting her lip. “It hurt. Not a normal kind of hurt, but a burning sensation. A tearing. I’m sorry I bled on you.”
I kiss her neck. “I’m not sorry.”
“Let’s not wait to start finding what makes me feel good.” She pushes my hand down her trembling body, sliding my fingertips against her engorged clit. “Make me scream your name.”
And scream my name she does. It takes a while. We go slow. Very slow so as not to hurt her more than she already is. There are some areas that are too tender for me touch right now. There are other areas that, after some time and healing, we know will have her jumping from the cliff. But there are two spots, for now, that get the job done.
And trust me, my name has never sounded so damn good.
Unable to leave me in what she imagines is an extremely painful state, she jacks me off again, quickly switching to a blow job the second I tell her I’m about to come all over the place. It’s the most euphoric form of déjà vu I’ve ever experienced.
Eventually, we clean ourselves with washcloths and fresh water from the gallon jugs. She digs through one of her bathroom bags, grabbing what she calls a panty liner, and puts it and a simple pair of black cotton panties on her sore and thoroughly loved bottom half. I gather my discarded clothes from beside the pond and place them in my dirty clothes bag along with the bloody blanket. I’ll toss them in the washer when we go to the garage to shower tomorrow.
After snuffing the fire in the firepit, we crawl our exhausted bodies back into the tent. She snuggles into the lavender-scented sheets as I grab the book we’ve been reading this week. Every night before bed, I’ve read aloud from Hemingway’s A Farewell to Arms . After just one chapter, I toss the book to the side and turn off the lantern.
Lulu’s body wraps around mine, encasing me in her in heat. In her warmth. In her love.
She traces the ridges of my six-pack and then slowly counts my ribs. “Tell me something.” She leans over and kisses my chest. “Something no one else knows.”
I think. “All of my best days are with you.” Simple, but true.
“Ask me,” she demands.
I kiss the top of her head. “Tell me something. Something no one else knows.”
“I think my sister is dead.”
I jerk, lifting my head from my pillow to look at her profile in the dark. “What? Why would you think that? There’s still hope.”
“One night on the cruise, I woke up out of a dead sleep. I couldn’t breathe. My heart was beating so fast in my chest, I thought I was dying. It has never felt that way before. It’s like I was drowning in agony, suffocating in anxiety. Holt was in the same room as me. It scared him to death. My aunt and uncle had to call the ship’s physician to the room because I couldn’t even move. Fortunately, by the time he got to the room, my symptoms had eased up. Panic attack. He said I had a panic attack.”
She runs her fingertips back and forth across my collarbone. “Come to find out, it was the same night Carrie went missing. I don’t feel her, Ry. In my heart, there’s already a hole. A missing piece. I know she’s gone. I can just feel it.”
Her hot and silent tears fall onto my chest and race down my side, puddling between our connected bodies.
“So, what does this mean?”
“It means I’m looking for a murderer.”