March 2007

MARK

The silk pyjamas shimmer with every step she takes across the lounge. The second we're inside her bedroom, I shut the door. That amuses her for reasons I don't have time to consider.

Instead, I sweep an arm around her waist and tug her towards me. Her tiny palms splay across my chest as she stumbles forwards, and I fight the urge to throw her onto the bed. Last night I got the impression she likes a bit of rough, but until I know just how much, better to keep that beast in the cage.

"You're still wearing clothes," she points out.

Getting undressed would speed things along, but this might be our only time together. Better to draw it out. Savour every second.

Like her tongue in my mouth again.

With my spare hand, I cradle the back of her neck and then dip down to her lips. Her warm breath, minty fresh, mingles with mine, tempting me closer, drawing me in.

"Thought you hated kissing," she taunts.

"Means to an end," I taunt back.

It's impossible to hate kissing Zoe. Maybe it's because she doesn't see it as a means to an end. She enjoys it, puts effort into it. It's slow and thorough, like a sensual venture into a forbidden land. She tastes of toothpaste and a confusing blend of innocence and danger. The girl isn't innocent. Far from it. But my protective instinct wants to shield her from hurt.

If we do this, we need to be on the same page. The same line of the same page.

"This isn't going to be romantic," I warn her, dragging my swollen lips across her cheek until I reach her ear. I nibble and she shudders. "I don't fuck romantically."

"I don't want romance. I just want orgasms."

Logic suggests that when something's too good to be true, it usually is. But for now, I can only take her at face value. It'll be just one time. Get it out of our systems. Move on with clearer heads tomorrow.

I test boundaries a little, try to figure out what she likes. Easing my grip upwards, I sink my fingers into her hair, gather a bunch of soft blonde strands within my fist, and yank her head to the side. She gasps and clutches onto my t-shirt. The long stretch of her neck is too inviting to ignore. Gentle at first, I trace a light path with my lips. Up to her jaw. Down to her shoulder. The more she trembles in my arms, the harder I suck, until her shallow pants evolve into needy moans.

Reading her body language has always been easy, and if it's just as simple in the bedroom, we're in for a mind-blowing night.

I let go of her waist and slide my hand beneath the hem of her pyjama top. Silk tickles my wrist as I skim a palm over warm flesh, up to her hard nipples. I capture one between two knuckles and squeeze. To my surprise, she wriggles out of my grasp.

"Is something wrong?" I ask.

"Yes. You're still wearing clothes." She perches on the edge of the bed and extends her toned legs out in front of her.

If she's expecting a strip tease, she'll be disappointed.

I cross my arms over my stomach, grab the hem of my t-shirt, and drag it over my head. Her beady eyes follow my every move, and her throat ripples with a swallow as I undo my belt. Does she have a thing for belts? So much to learn. So little time. I step out of my jeans, then hook my thumbs in the waistband of my boxers.

When I pause, her gaze flicks up to mine. "I'm starting to think you're shy."

"I'm not," I say.

To prove it, I tug my boxers down my thighs and bend to manoeuvre them over my ankles. I keep my eyes fixed on Zoe's expression as I straighten. Usually I get some wide-eyed reaction, occasionally a less-than-Oscar-worthy gasp. It's like girls feel they need to protect my ego by at least acknowledging the grand reveal.

Zoe does nothing. For once, I can't read her. If anything, she looks pensive. Maybe a little analytical. Is she comparing me to someone? It shouldn't matter, but not knowing is frustrating, so I switch back to offensive mode.

"Your turn," I say.

The blank expression splits into a grin. In that moment, she looks so happy and relaxed, like I'm not about to fuck her brains out. She shimmies out of her pyjamas, and I'm pretty sure I fail at hiding my own reaction.

Perfection wrapped in a tiny package. A package that I can't wait to explore, if only I could decide where to start.

"I feel like you're scrutinising me," she says.

"Hard not to when you look like that." I stalk towards the bed, and she leans back on her elbows to hold eye contact with me.

One hand on each of her thighs, I spread her legs then kneel in the gap. Her breath hitches, eyes alight with interest. Finally, some kind of reaction.

I warned her this wouldn't be romantic, but I can't resist taking my time. Starting at the base of her neck, I trail a path of kisses down the centre of her body. Through the deep valley of her breasts. Over her flat stomach. Along the edge of one thigh. Every inch of her is beautiful.

As I float my lips towards her pussy, she's practically quivering above me. If I wanted to, I could tease her longer, but I don't have the patience for that. Her scent is driving me mad, and as soon as my tongue sweeps over her clit, instinct takes over.

"Oh my God." Her knees clamp my shoulders, fingers delving into my hair to urge me closer.

She's soaked. I lap up the sweet juices, alternating between long, slow strokes and sucking hard at her clit. Her vice grip on my head encourages me, and her whimpers become louder until she's begging me not to stop.

No fucking chance of that. I could stay here for hours.

I scoop a hand under each thigh, then toss her legs over my shoulders. A high-pitched squeak pierces the silence when I grab her hips to yank her closer.

Hearing her response to my mouth on her body is a high I don't think I'll ever be able to replicate. Although it's quickly topped by the scream that accompanies the violent clenching of her thighs as she spasms against my face and coats my chin in a fresh wave of wetness.

I detach her legs from my shoulders and stand. One arm is strewn over her eyes, her chest heaving with shallow breaths.

I climb onto the bed. "Need a moment?"

Her arm drops and narrowed eyes land on me. Okay, apparently consideration for her recovery period isn't required. Duly noted.

"No. I'm good." She shuffles onto her knees and shoves a palm against my torso. I obligingly fall back, my head sinking into a mountain of mismatched pillows.

Instantly her fingers wrap around my dick. Firm and confident. I'd expected a little hesitation at least, in line with her people-pleasing nature, but there's none of that. She pumps me slowly, pauses to gather the pre-cum leaking out of my tip, then smears that over my erection. It's heaven.

When her head lowers and her mouth opens, it takes every ounce of restraint to grasp her shoulder.

"You don't have to," I say.

"I know."

And then her lips stretch around my crown, and my shaft disappears into the wet heat of her mouth. The instant pleasure is beyond my imagination. It's what reassures me I'm not dreaming, because never could I have imagined how fucking intense it would feel.

She works my dick like she's loving it. Her cheeks hollow as she sucks me deeper, slides me down her throat, chokes and gags and yet doesn't come up for air.

How can she be this good when it's not even her favourite part of sex? Did she downplay it yesterday?

I try to keep my reactions discreet, not wanting to sound like a teenage boy getting his dick sucked for the first time. But fuck she makes it difficult. My balls tighten, a tingling settling at my spine. I clutch her hair, ready to pull her away before I blow my load down her throat, but then she moans. A deep, long vibration right around my base.

Fuck. I tip back my head and groan. She does it again, and this time I manage to pull her up and off me, driven only by the risk of losing out on sex.

"Where are your condoms?" I pant.

She bites her lip. "I'm on birth control. And I'm clean."

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. No. This is a bad idea. I can't be raw inside her. I'll last five seconds.

"I'm clean too," I say, "but we should have this conversation with clear heads. Not in the heat of the moment."

Her mouth screws, like she's not convinced, but then she shrugs and swings her legs over the side of the bed. As she rifles through her bedside drawer, I take a few breaths to calm my racing heart. Stamina is never normally an issue. It'll be just my fucking luck if it lets me down now.

A foil packet lands on my chest. Zoe also sets a bottle of lube onto the bedside table. As she tries to clamber on top of me, I fix my hands around her waist and flip her onto her back, leaning over her.

A frustrated huff of air accompanies the narrowing of her eyes.

"I want to start on top," she says.

She screams confidence in the bedroom. It's a huge turn-on and reinforces my strategy to draw this out, because if she gets on top now and starts riding me, it'll be game over.

"You can," I tell her. "I want to make you come again first."

The tiniest streak of pink colours her cheeks. Then she smiles. "I like hearing you talk dirty."

She wouldn't if she knew what I was actually thinking.

"It's a reassurance that you're into this," she continues.

I raise an eyebrow. "You think I'm not?"

"You were almost totally silent when I was sucking you off."

Guilt tightens my jaw. In my effort to exercise restraint, I'd apparently gone too far in the opposite direction.

"I was stunned into silence." I cup one tit and squeeze. "You were incredible."

Her lips twist into a smile, then part with a gasp when I pinch her nipple.

"Maybe we should try to communicate more," she murmurs, closing her eyes. "It's our first time together and we need to get used to what the other person likes or doesn't like."

I'd like anything this girl does to me, but I'm definitely on board with feedback from her. It's a mature, clear-headed suggestion from someone who looks drugged on pleasure right now.

"Sounds good," I say.

I float my palm over her stomach, towards her writhing hips, while keeping my gaze fixed on her face. I'm desperate to see every reaction, no matter how small, to my touch. When my fingertips graze her clit, she jolts beneath me. I continue down, into her soaking centre, where she's still slick and hot. Two of my fingers slide inside easily.

"God, yes..." She arches her back, grinds against my hand.

With my thumb, I part her folds and gently circle her swollen clit. Moans evolve into higher-pitched whines. I curl my fingers once, twice, three times, and then reach up with my spare hand to play with her nipples again.

"So good... Don't stop. Do it harder."

I swallow my groan and replace my thumb with the heel of my hand so I can fuck her pussy with my fingers while grinding my palm over her clit. She cries out, then her walls squeeze me tight as she comes.

Once more, she's a quivering wreck on the duvet, but this time I know better than to show pity. I snatch up the condom, tear it open, and sheath myself.

She must worry that I'll renege on my promise to let her go on top, because she scrambles into a sitting position and wrestles me onto my back. I lie there, patient as a saint, while she fumbles with the lube. The gel is refreshingly cool, and thankfully not one of those special varieties that are supposed to do weird things like tingle.

When she manoeuvres to straddle me, lining up my cock with her pussy, I almost have to close my eyes. The sight of her, on top of me, naked, is one I'll never be able to forget.

Warmth replaces the cool gel when she slowly sinks down onto me. Her eyes pinch shut, but she takes every inch, until I'm buried deep inside her. I thought her mouth felt like heaven, but this...

My palms settle on her hips. She rocks back and forth, tentative at first, getting used to me. For someone so small, she takes me well, her hands planted on my thighs behind her.

I skim a finger up her side, over the dip in her waist, along her ribcage, and up to her tits. I cup one, feel the weight of it in my hand.

"You a boob guy?"

Am I? I've never really thought about it. Then again, nobody's had a chest like her.

"Apparently," I say.

"What else do you like? Come on – thought we were going to communicate?"

It's embarrassing to admit, but if she wants communication and it'll get the chip off her shoulder about my silence...

"I'm concentrating on not coming too early," I grunt.

A smile stretches across her face. "Concentrate a little less and let go. I won't judge you."

There's a hint of teasing that ignites the competitive streak in me. If she wants me to show her what I really like in bed, I can do that.

I flex my hips, thrust up into her a few times in quick succession. A strangled gasp tears from her throat.

"Yes... Just like that..."

She's unbelievably tight, squeezing my cock like a fucking clamp, but she's so wet that I slide in and out of her easily. I kick it up a notch, pulling her down to meet each brutal pump of my hips. It seems too rough, but rather than ask me to ease off, she starts bouncing on top of me, until I'm ramming into her so deep that tears pool in her eyes. Still, she begs me for more.

"You like that?" I murmur, sweat beading on my forehead as I fuck her harder.

"So good..."

I skirt a hand to rub her clit—fast, firm circles—and within seconds she's convulsing around me, throbbing and crying and cursing. I grit my teeth to delay my own orgasm, but it's hard work. Her climax is intense, watching her come undone is addictive, and this whole experience is drugging my mind beyond control.

Instead, I reverse our positions, tossing her onto the duvet, then immediately rolling on top with my forearms braced on either side of her head to bear my weight. As I push into her again, her eyes flutter shut and a lazy smile tickles her lips.

"Three is usually my maximum." She threads her fingers into my hair and wraps her legs around my waist. "So if you need to come... I won't be mad."

"You'd have been mad before?" I suck at her earlobe. "Thought you weren't going to judge me?"

I feel her cheek pull into a grin. "No judgement, just a little disappointment that you didn't live up to my fantasies."

Fantasies. She's been fantasising about me. My balls tighten at the thought, and I slow my thrusts, now determined to prolong this just to ensure there's absolutely no chance of disappointment on her side.

"What do I do in your fantasies?" I ask.

It's a dangerous question, but now she's admitted it, I need to know.

Chuckling, she shakes her head. "Nah. Doesn't work that way, buddy. You don't communicate with me, I don't communicate with you."

Buddy. I growl and lift her legs over my shoulders to deepen the angle. I'm not her buddy when I'm fucking her.

Her lavender-painted nails claw at my biceps. They'll probably leave scratch marks. A reminder that this happened for real and wasn't just a figment of my imagination.

"You seemed fine communicating when it got you an orgasm." I grunt.

"Bingo."

She's amused. I'm losing my fucking head and she's relaxed. No doubt high off her three orgasms.

If three is usually her maximum, I'm going to give her four. See how disappointed she is then. I sift back through memories from last night, trying to find a clue that will unlock the hidden level. But my brain won't function. Everything other than Zoe's body is a cloudy haze. Ever since I saw her in the kitchen wearing those pyjamas—

I pull out and sit back on my heels. "Where do you keep your toys?"

Her eyes light up, but of course they do. Her loser ex never wanted to do this, so at least I win in that regard.

From under her bed, she plucks out a shoe box and rifles through it. Fuck, she wasn't kidding about the collection. Some small, some big. Some questionably big. No wonder she didn't baulk at my size. I've been out-measured by a stick of rubber.

"Which one has run out of batteries?" I ask.

"None of your business," she clips, apparently seeing straight through my subtle attempt to find out which of these toys was on the cards for tonight.

I press my lips together to hide my smile. Eventually, she selects a narrow metallic tube, shaped like a lipstick, and presses down on a plastic button. It buzzes to life, bouncing around in the palm of her hand. Just as she closes her fingers around it, I reach out and snatch it from her.

"Hey!" Irritation scorches her eyes, but there's something else hiding within the heat. Intrigue. Curiosity. Excitement.

And when I shove a hand against her shoulder to push her flat against the duvet again, the irritation almost entirely disappears. She likes being manhandled. But I agree that we need to get more comfortable with communicating before I start testing just how much she likes it.

Her chest expands with deep breaths as she lies on her back and watches me with guarded eyes. Nobody's done this to her before. And suddenly, I don't feel at all threatened by the toy. I feel empowered that I can give her something that nobody's given her before.

"Tell me to stop if it's too much," I say.

"You can't put it inside me," she blurts out. "That one's external use only."

"I wasn't planning to. Besides, there won't be room." And I line up my dick with her entrance again, pushing just the head inside.

She seems equal parts nervous and excited, so I go slow, letting her get used to the experience of someone else controlling her toy. I drag it over her tits and hold it against one hardened nipple. Goose bumps spread over puckered skin.

"I've never..." She trails off and swallows.

"Feel good?"

A quick nod, then a sharp moan. Her back arches, and I slowly push inside her again.

"Remember to tell me if it stops feeling good at any point."

"I will."

After giving the other nipple equal attention, I direct the toy down the centre of her stomach and press it lightly against her clit. Her hips buck, and another delicious whimper echoes around the room. It doesn't take long for her to explode, and this time I can't hold back as I release inside her, burying my face into her neck as I groan through the orgasm.

The seconds that follow aren't awkward. We don't look at each other with regret or finality.

We look at each other like we've just started something that will be impossible to finish.

***

Thank you for reading ) xx

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Thoughts? Feelings? Theories?