Chapter 25 #2
He starts pumping them in and out, using his knuckle to rub my clit at the same time. My hips are rocking against him, moving of their own accord as I chase that friction with almost embarrassing desperation.
“Walker,” I gasp.
“I love it when you say my name, sweetheart. Especially when I’m playing with your pussy. You should feel yourself, so wet and tight and perfect. Getting ready for my cock. Ready to be fucked. I’m gonna take such good care of you.”
He puts his mouth on me again and I lose all sense of space and time. My head is thrown back and my tits are jiggling as he tongues me and makes my whole body shake.
He curls his fingers inside me, right against my g-spot, and it has me seeing stars. He works me with his fingers and mouth.
Every time I make a sound he pays attention to it. Remembers it. Returns to whatever caused it.
When he suckles my clit between his lips, the orgasm slams into me, uncontrollable. Harder than I’ve ever come in my life, more intense than my own fingers or my vibrator has ever made me come.
It’s so different like this, with a man’s mouth actually on me. The heat and wetness of it, the way I have no control over it.
It’s raw and real and I feel totally exposed and vulnerable, not just physically, but emotionally too, coming in front of him like this. Coming undone completely as he can’t take his eyes off me.
I’m barely aware of him almost growling with pleasure as I clamp down on him. He tongues me through the last of the aftershocks and then he’s wrapping a hand around the back of my neck and pulling me down to him for a kiss.
I taste myself on him.
His cock is hard and hot between us.
And suddenly I need to feel him inside me with a desperation that takes me off-guard.
I grasp for him, trying to wriggle myself onto the head of his cock, when he closes a hand around my wrist to stop me.
“Sadie,” he says. A kiss. “This is the part that hurts.”
His gaze on me is deep and serious, even as his pupils are so dilated that the familiar green is almost totally obscured. He’s so turned on right now, eyes gone black with it, and he’s still taking a moment to prepare me. To talk to me. To connect.
I reach up and frame his face in my hands, stubbled jaw under my palms.
“Stop being afraid of pain. Mine or yours.” I stroke his face tenderly, then give him a cheeky smile. “You know how much I love your voice, but now I need you to stop talking and get to the part where you’re inside me.”
He gives me a breathless laugh. I like coaxing them out of him. For someone who’s default mode is grumpy and brooding, getting him to laugh feels like a real victory.
“You are such a fucking handful,” he says. And then his hands are moving all over my body, taking those handfuls and then some. “My handful.”
Another kiss. Another warm wave of pleasure at the thought of being his.
If only for a little while.
I understand now, more than ever, why I’ve been waiting.
For someone who would look at me like this, like I’m everything he’s ever wanted. Who would touch me like my pleasure and happiness in this moment matters more than anything.
He positions himself over me, kissing me, squeezing my breasts, my hips.
I can feel the hard length of him between us.
He adjusts himself so my thighs are parted around him.
And then he slicks the length of himself along my pussy, not penetrating, just coating himself in my arousal.
And then his fingers are inside me again, pumping. Stretching me.
My hips buck underneath him. I want more. I need more.
Why won’t he give me what we both want?
I let out a little growl of frustration and he chuckles, low and dark.
“So pretty and innocent on the outside,” he murmurs. “Nobody would ever suspect you’d be panting beneath me. Begging for it and you ain’t ever had it yet. My sweet little virgin. Need your man to fuck you good, is that it?”
“Walker, please,” I beg, no pride left at all. Just pure want. “I need it.”
“What do you need, baby? Use your words,” he teases.
“I need you.”
“Need me to do what? Take your cherry? Say it.”
I bury my face in his neck with a little whimper of frustration and need and arousal. “I want you to be the one. Please, take it. Take me.”
“Good girl. You want me to be the first man to fuck your little pussy?”
“Yes,” I breathe. “Please, please fuck me. Please be the first. You’re the only one I want.”
My words make him groan. He withdraws his fingers, and I make a noise of protest at the sudden emptiness.
Then he’s notching the head of his cock at my entrance.
Another kiss. “You ready, my beautiful girl?”
I give the tiniest nod. Nervous now, even as my body is tingling with pleasure everywhere.
He pushes in.
There’s an unfamiliar stretch, one I’ve never felt before. It’s never been like this from my fingers, or his. It helps that I’m really wet, but he’s big and thick and my body isn’t used to this kind of intrusion.
A little whimper escapes me.
“Shh, baby,” he soothes. He kisses me, rolls my nipple between his thumb and finger until my body loosens up again. “You were made for me. You can take it.”
Another push.
“Walker,” I breathe. “I don’t know if I can…”
A soft kiss on my lips. “This is the hard part. Trust me, darlin’. You saved this sweet virgin cunt just for me and I’m gonna cherish it.”
Another push, deeper.
My body is relaxing again. Loosening. And he pushes in all the way.
I whimper at the sudden fullness, the stretch, the wholly unfamiliar sensation of being penetrated. He’s inside me, all the way, and so this is sex, and oh my god…
He swallows it with his kiss, caressing me everywhere, letting my hips wriggle even as he has me pinned, filled up.
“I know. I know it’s a lot,” he whispers into my ear. “You’re so fucking tight. But you’re doing so good. Let me take care of everything.”
His lips trail across my jaw, along my neck. His hand comes up to palm my breast, thumb dragging circles across my nipples.
Everywhere he touches sends pleasure rippling through me. Lessens the sting between my legs.
“You like that?” he murmurs. “You like when I rub your pretty tits?”
“Yes.” My nails dig into his shoulder. “I like everything you do.”
I run my hands through his hair, needing to ground myself in the familiar sensations of him as I get used to this new one. I wrap my legs around him, literally keeping him right where I want him, and I pull him to me for a kiss.
My body is getting used to this. To him, filling me up.
He moves his hips. Not much, at first, just slow, shallow thrusts as I get used to it. And I am getting used to it.
I’m still really wet from him going down on me. And now that my body is adjusting, it’s okay now.
Better than okay, actually.
It’s good, really good, like I didn’t even realize what an aching emptiness used to be there until he filled it up.
“Sweetheart,” he murmurs against my skin. “Can’t believe I’m the one who gets your cherry.” Another thrust. “Such a perfect little pussy. And it’s all mine.”
“Yes,” I gasp, and he groans. His pace picks up, almost like he can’t help himself.
Walker Rhodes is fucking me now. A steady, strong rhythm that makes my breasts jiggle every time his hips snap against mine. The coarse hair at the base of his cock is rubbing against my clit and that feels so good too.
“Nobody else has had this.” It’s almost a growl as he thrusts into me. “Nobody else gets to have this.” He cups my jaw. “Tell me you’re mine.” His thrusts slow as his eyes meet mine. “I want to hear you say it.”
Of course he does. Words are his lifeblood, inseparable from the music. Of course he wants the words that go with this particular melody.
“I’m yours, Walker.” I turn my face so I kiss his palm. “I’m yours.”
He looks at me like I just gave him something he was starving for.
That hand slides down to my throat as his mouth crashes into mine. His cock pushes in and out of me, faster now, harder.
While he fucks me, his gaze crawls over my body, devouring the sight of me. As his hands move over my skin, his eyes follow, dark and intent, like he's watching himself touch me and can't quite believe he's allowed to.
I’ve never seen him look so focused, like we’re the only two people in the entire world, like the world could be burning down around us and he wouldn’t notice or care.
“Are you gonna give me another one, baby?” A squeeze of my breast that sends another jolt of pleasure through me. “I want to feel you come on my cock. Can you do that for me?”
He kisses me again and I wrap my thighs around him tighter. I’m so wet now, and my whole body feels so good that I welcome the fullness and pressure of his cock inside me now.
Shifting his weight, he pushes my knee up, pressing my thigh into my chest so he can get deeper.
That's the thing I didn't think about when it came to sex with Walker. I knew he would be good to me, knew he would take care of me, and he is.
But I didn’t anticipate just how much he’d be into it.
He’s not treating me like I’m fragile or breakable. He’s not holding himself back. He’s fucking me hard and deep now. Passionately. Of course he’s giving me pleasure, but he’s taking it too, and I love that.
I love knowing that I turn him on so much. That he loves fucking me.
His hands roam over me, squeezing my tits and my hips and my ass. With each thrust he kisses me hard, tongue moving in tandem as he pushes his cock inside me.
The new angle makes for delicious friction on my clit. Every time he pushes in and withdraws, I feel it. And it’s not long before another wave is building, that simmering build of pleasure in my spine.
“I’m going to come,” I gasp. “I’m…”
White-hot pleasure courses through me as my orgasm crescendoes and breaks. My fingernails dig into his back. My legs tighten around him as my pussy clenches on his cock. His rhythm picks up, fast and hard as he slams his hips into me.
Until he stills with a groan, wrapping me even tighter in his arms.
I feel the heat of his cum pumping inside me.
And then he’s kissing me again, deep but relaxed. Almost lazy, the way his tongue slides against mine.
Utterly satisfied.
When he pulls his cock out, we both suck in a breath at the same time at the sudden change in warmth and pressure.
He rises up. Kisses each of my breasts, then the place between them, right above my heart.
Sitting back on his knees, he gently spreads my legs wider. I let him do it, even as I feel suddenly shy. Especially with the way he’s examining my pussy with a look of intense concentration.
“Does it look different?” I tease, to cover up my self-consciousness at his perusal.
“Your pussy’s perfect. As always. But I might love it best like this, with my cum dripping out of you.” He gives me a wicked smile. “You look real pretty like this. Well-fucked. All pink and mussed up.”
“You don’t look so bad yourself.” An understatement. He’s got a thin sheen on sweat on him, making his tanned, muscular form stand out in even more relief. There’s a gleam in his eyes I’ve never seen before, one of pure satisfaction.
The man is actually grinning.
He looks the happiest I’ve ever seen him.
Pressing a kiss to my hip, he says, “Stay here, darlin'.”
He gets up and heads to the bathroom. I hear the water running. I lie there, nestled in his soft sheets, in the warm lamplight, and stare at the wood beam ceiling.
My body feels different. Like it knows something now that it didn’t before. Not just the physical pleasure, but a whole new way of being.
I didn’t know there was anything on earth that felt that way. That intense. Like space and time fall away, and the overthinking stops, and all there is is that moment.
I didn’t know you could share that same exact experience with another person, at the exact same time.
Walker comes back with a glass of water in one hand and a damp washcloth in the other. First, he puts the glass of water on the nightstand next to me.
“Make sure you drink, baby,” he tells me.
Then, kneeling between my legs again, he gently cleans me up. The washcloth is warm and feels good on my tender skin.
I don’t remember the last time someone took care of me. Ever thought to bring me a glass of water. Bothered to tend to some part of me that was hurting.
I’ve been taking care myself as long as I can remember.
When he changes his grip, I notice there’s a little bit of blood streaked on the white fabric of the towel.
My virgin blood.
His eyes meet mine. A hint of worry creeping in. “Are you sore?”
“A little,” I confess. “But the good kind. Like after a hard workout.”
“Well.” His eyes move over me slowly. “I did work you.”
“You did.” I smile at him, letting him know there’s nothing to worry about.
His lips curve, reassured, and he goes back to his slow caress with the towel. “Didn’t they use to parade this kind of thing around when a woman lost her virginity, in the old days?”
I laugh. The man’s particular brand of crazy still surprises me sometimes. “I think that was just for royalty. And only on the wedding night. Why do you even know that?”
“I read books, same as you. I’m a man of culture.” He gives me a sly look. “Maybe I’ll hang this out the window. Proclaim to the mountains and the deer and the meadowlarks that I’ve made you my queen.”
I just shake my head, laughing. Ignoring the runaway gallop of my heartbeat.
“You’re crazy, you know that?”
He watches me laugh with an expression that’s tender and open and completely unguarded, and I think: I want to make him look like that again. As many times as I possibly can, for all the time we have left together.
The thought arrives with a small ache underneath it.
I push it away.
Not tonight.
He takes the washcloth back to the bathroom. I hear the water run again. Then the lamp in the bathroom clicks off and he comes back to bed, where he turns off the bedside lamp before pulling me against his chest. His chin drops to the top of my head as he keeps one hand moving slow through my hair.
I press my palm flat against his sternum. Feel his heart beating under my hand, steady and sure.
He exhales, deep and content. “How are you feeling?”
I consider the question. Really consider it.
I’ve been waiting a long time for the right person to do this with.
And I found him.
At the wrong time.
In the wrong circumstances.
With an end date already written into the arrangement.
But lying here in the moonlight with the mountains in the window, his heartbeat under my hand and the summer still stretching out ahead of us, I can’t make myself regret a single thing.
“I’m mad,” I say.
When he tenses, instantly on alert, I add, unable to stop smiling, “I’m mad that we haven’t been doing this the whole time.”
His arms pull me tighter as he shakes with laughter.
“Such a fucking brat,” he murmurs, and kisses me more.