CHAPTER 2 #2
Drew’s dark gaze shifted, taking in the smooth olive skin of her chest, the dark swallow wing tattoo rising toward her left collarbone, and the tight, dark crests of her nipples, which were fully erect in the cool air of the room.
"Look at you," Drew murmured, his voice dropping an octave, rich and thick with appreciation. "You are built so pretty, Jayla. Gorgeous curves."
Jayla reached for the button of her denim jeans, popping it open with a soft metallic click. She slid the zipper down, her hips swaying slightly as she worked the tight denim over her thighs, kicking the pants away along with her small lace underwear.
She stood completely nude before him. The single lamp cast a golden light over her olive skin, highlighting the dark, intricate botanical tattoos that coiled down her arms and legs, and illuminating the completely smooth, hairless mound between her thighs, which was already shining with a thin, clear glaze of arousal.
Drew leaned forward, his heavy, dark eyes devouring every bare, exposed inch of her body with raw, hungry intent.
"Fuck, look at that," he growled, his voice dropping into a raspy, filthy whisper that vibrated straight to her thighs.
"Shaved bald and already leaking your sticky little juices before I even put a hand on you.
You really sat in traffic fingering that wet, married cunt until you were soaking, didn't you? "
"I told you I was, Drew," Jayla gasped, a hot, filthy blush rushing to her cheeks as her knees trembled. "I thought about your massive cock and stretched three fingers as deep as I could push them the whole fucking drive here."
Drew stood up from the armchair. He reached down with both hands, taking hold of the waistband of his gray sweatpants and his dark boxers. In one smooth, deliberate motion, he shoved the fabric down his broad thighs and stepped out of them.
Jayla’s breath caught violently in her throat. Her eyes went wide, her mouth falling open in a silent, stunned gasp.
His cock came free, thick, heavy, and formidable.
It was a massive piece of dark, muscular flesh, broad as a mason jar at the base, with a wide, flared head that was already dark, swollen, and glistening with a clear bead of moisture at the tip.
Thick, dark veins corded along the shaft, mapping the incredible length and density of him as he stood before her.
"My God..." Jayla breathed, her voice barely a whisper as her eyes stared at the sheer size of him. "Drew... Tamara was not exaggerating. You are massive. That is the biggest thing I have ever seen in my life."
Drew took his heavy length in his right hand, stroking it once from base to tip with a slow, proud rhythm. The thick head twitched upward, rising under its own weight until it pointed almost straight toward his chest.
"They do not call me Mr. Girth for nothing, photographer," he said softly, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across his face. "Now tell me... do you still think you can handle this?"
Jayla reached out, her small, olive hand trembling as she extended her fingers toward him. She wanted to touch it, needed to feel the physical reality of what was about to happen to her body.
Her fingers brushed against the warm, smooth skin of the head.
It was hot, firm as dense rubber, and pulsing with a heavy, steady heartbeat.
She tried to wrap her hand around the shaft, but her fingers could not close around the circumference.
Her thumb and middle finger were separated by a wide gap of dark, throbbing skin.
"I cannot even get my hand around it," she giggled, the sound breathless, excited, and slightly hysterical. "Drew, this is ridiculous. How is this even possible?"
Drew chuckled, the deep sound vibrating through his broad chest as he allowed her to stroke him. "It is plenty possible, girl. It just takes a woman who knows how to open up and take what she needs."
"I do not think anyone can be prepared for something this wide," she said, her palm sliding down the heavy length, marveling at the weight of him in her hand. "Gray is... Gray is nothing like this. This feels like a tree trunk."
"Do not talk about your husband right now," Drew said, his tone shifting from playful to quietly commanding. "His little ten minute routine is over. Tonight you belong to Mr. Girth. Now get on the bed."
Jayla obeyed instantly. She backed up toward the king sized mattress, her knees striking the frame before she climbed onto the white spread. The sheets were cool and crisp against her bare thighs and back, providing a sharp contrast to the burning heat rising from her core.
She lay on her back, resting her head against the white pillows, her long black hair fanning out around her face like a dark halo. She looked up at Drew, who was standing at the edge of the mattress, his massive cock swinging heavily between his thighs as he stepped between her legs.
"Spread those pretty thighs for me," Drew instructed softly, his dark eyes locked onto her face. "Wide, Jayla. Let me see what I am working with."
Jayla reached down, grasping her own knees, and pulled her thighs wide apart.
The posture was completely exposed, vulnerable, and thrilling.
The pale, smooth skin of her inner thighs was completely bare, the delicate pink lips of her entrance glistening under the warm lamp light, slick with her own clear fluids.
Drew knelt between her parted knees, his wide knees sinking deep into the mattress. He reached out with his dark, broad hand, his thick fingers resting gently on her inner thigh, sliding upward until his knuckles brushed against the wet fold of her skin.
"Look at that," Drew murmured, his voice thick with appreciation as he traced the outer edge of her lips. "Dripping wet and ready for a real man. You really did a good job on yourself earlier."
"It was all for you," she whispered, her eyes fluttering shut as his warm thumb stroked her sensitive center. "I wanted to be ready when I see you."
"Let us test it," Drew said softly.
He slid one thick finger inside her. The entry was smooth, her natural moisture welcoming the invasion with a quiet, wet slide. Jayla let out a low, breathy sigh, her hips rising slightly off the mattress to meet his hand.
"One finger," Drew noted, his dark eyes watching her face. "Sliding in smooth as butter."
He did not wait. He slid a second thick digit beside the first, pressing deeper until his knuckles rested against her outer lips. The stretch was immediate, a full, satisfying pressure that made Jayla’s eyes snap open.
"Two fingers," he murmured, curling his digits slightly inside her, finding the sensitive, swollen ridge of her front wall. "You feel tight, Jayla. Very tight. But so wet."
"It feels good," she gasped, her hands gripping the white sheets on either side of her hips. "Put the third one in. Show me."
Drew pressed his third finger forward. Her body resisted for a fraction of a second, her inner muscles stretching tight around the thick cluster of his hand, before yielding with a soft, wet sound.
Jayla’s head fell back against the pillow, her mouth opening in a quiet gasp as the three thick fingers filled her completely. The stretch was intense, far wider than anything Gray had ever offered, but the fullness was intoxicating.
"Look at that," Drew whispered, his voice dark and proud. "Three fingers all the way to the knuckle. You really did your homework, girl."
"I told you I did," she breathed, her hips pulsing weakly around his hand. "I told you I was ready."
Drew smiled, his dimple cutting deep into his dark cheek. "You are doing great, photographer. But like I told you... my cock is wider than three fingers. If you want this dick inside you without crying, you need to take a fourth one right now."
Jayla’s eyes widened in mild shock. "A fourth? Drew, that is... that is almost my whole hand."
"That is what it takes," he said, his tone firm, encouraging, and unyielding. "Relax your hips. Breathe through your nose. Take the fourth finger for me, Jayla."
Drew did not force the movement. He held his three fingers still inside her wet core, letting her body adjust to the density, while his thumb stroked the dark, swollen peak of her clit in small, rhythmic circles.
The dual sensation made Jayla’s core throb with a fierce, mounting heat. She let out a soft whine, her thighs trembling as her hips began to move of their own accord, seeking more of the dark friction he was offering.
"That is it," Drew coaxed gently, his voice a smooth, encouraging whisper. "Open up for me, baby. Just loosen those tight little muscles. Let me in."
He slowly brought the tip of his small finger against her entrance, aligning it with the other three. With a slow, steady push, he pressed the fourth digit forward.
A sharp, bright burn tore through Jayla’s lower belly. Her body reacted instantly, her inner walls clamping down hard against the massive intrusion, trying to push the thick cluster of hand back out.
"Ah! Fuck!" Jayla cried out, her back arching off the white sheets, her dark hair tossing wildly across the pillow. "Drew... wait... wait, that hurts! It is too much!"
Drew stopped immediately. He did not pull back, but he held his hand completely still, keeping the four fingers lodged firmly inside her stretched, glistening entrance.
His other hand reached up, taking hold of her left wrist, pinning her hand gently against the mattress while his broad body leaned over her, his dark face inches from hers.
"Breathe, Jayla," he commanded softly, his dark eyes holding hers with absolute calmness. "Look at me. Do not look away. Look straight into my eyes."
Jayla forced her eyes open, tears of sensation shimmering in the corners of her dark lashes. She looked into his heavy, steady eyes, finding an anchor in his complete lack of panic.
"I am looking," she sobbed softly, her breath coming in ragged, short hitches. "It feels like... like you are tearing me open."