I am the worst hooker in the history of hookering.
"I'm—"
Sorry, is what I'm about to say but I don't get that far because Rhys pinches the inside of my thigh, hard. And when he does that it's like all of my nerve endings focus on that one spot and I can't focus on tensing anywhere else so I don't, I relax and focus on that bite of pain on my thigh and in that moment of distraction he thrusts into me with one rough jab of his hips and he's in, he's in, and holy fuck that hurts. Distraction or not, that hurts. Like a tear, like I'm being split in half and it burns and he's so deep and he's tensed over me, not moving, breathing hard, holding himself still, waiting on me to do something, I think, but I'm not sure what or how I feel and I think I might cry so I cover my face with my hands.
He lets go of my legs, leaning over me and bracing himself on his forearms next to my head, the movement altering the angle of my hips and the way he feels inside of me and—oh, God—is that better or worse? I'm not sure. He moves my hands and kisses my temple.
"Are you okay?"
"I don't know." Maybe?
"Am I hurting you?"
"Yes!" Duh.
"Fuck." He starts to move, immediately lifting off of me, easing out of me.
"No!" I sling my arm around his neck and pull him back to me. "Don't go. It's a normal hurt. I think. I have no idea."
His lips twitch into a smile, though there's tension near his eyes as if it's paining him to go this slow, to hold this still.
"Tell me what it feels like."
"What this feels like, right now?"
"Yes. Please," he adds and it's both a demand and a plea. He kisses my jaw and the movement causes another slight adjustment to positioning, another tiny new sensation to adjust to.
"What it feels like to have you inside of me?" I flush saying it. I can feel the color cover my cheeks as the words leave my mouth.
"Yes, exactly that. Tell me."
"Like you're breaking me, but also like I might like it."
He looks fascinated by my responses. His eyes flickering across my face. His gaze intent.
"Full. It feels really full. It feels hot and tight and pinchy. Is pinchy a word? It feels like stretching after a long run, and achy. But it also feels good. The full feeling is really nice, like I have no idea how I ever lived without feeling it." I move my hands to his hips and run them along his skin, my fingers gripping his ass while I wiggle beneath him, adjusting to the penetration and realizing the pain has subsided into a dull ache, but also into a needy ache. Like I might want something more.
"What else?" he prompts. He kisses the corner of my mouth, a soft brush of his lips, and I don't know why that makes me hot but it does.
"It feels like pressure. Like all this pressure is there building or pulsating. Can I say pulsating? And like I might want you to move?" It's a question-slash-statement because I'm not entirely sure. "Not off of me!" I add, gripping his hips tighter in my hands, afraid I've just given bad directions. "Not off of me. In me." I buck my hips as much as I can from my position beneath him.
Rhys holds my head in his hands and kisses me—a long, wet kiss filled with tongues and nips along my bottom lip—and then he eases off, back to his knees, still buried inside of me as he repositions my spread thighs over his, his forearms under my knees supporting me and keeping me wide open.
I can see where we're joined at this angle. My pelvis is raised off the bed, my hands back to gripping the comforter in clenched fists. He pulls out of me and I feel the loss immediately. The slow slide of his body leaving mine, the feeling of fullness easing into emptiness. He pauses with just the head of his cock inside of me and we can both see the blood. His dick is wet, covered in me and streaks of red, and I suck in a breath because it's a little weird, a little base, a little primal and my feelings about all of this are raw, but Rhys doesn't look freaked out in the least. He looks like he's super into it so I exhale and try to relax.
Then he flexes his hips and drives back into me and I don't really care what his dick is covered in as long as he doesn't stop doing that. He repeats the motion, a long slow drag out followed by a smooth deep glide in, and I decide that I like sex very much.
"That's a good girl," he praises me when I lift my hips to meet his and I like hearing that almost as much as I like sex. Positive reinforcement is totally my thing and being called a good girl while his dick is inside of me is a filthy twisted spin on positive reinforcement that I find suits me just fine.
"I'm glad it's you," I say softly. "I'm glad I'm doing this with you."
His eyes shut for a moment and he swallows. A drop of sweat runs down his chest and I give an experimental clench around his cock where it's buried deep inside me and everything gets impossibly tighter and that feeling of pressure and heat gets more intense.
"That's good," he groans, his eyes opening, gaze hooded. Then he leans over me again, bracing himself on one hand and using the other to bend my knee towards my chest. That feels different, but I don't have time to think or adjust too much because he's pounding into me now. Fast. Quick and deep. Hard. My tits bounce from the thrusts and the sound of his skin slapping against me echoes throughout the room. The lights from the Strip flash and sparkle and glow just beyond the windows and I feel like I'm close to doing all of those things as well. So close.
Rhys bends my leg farther so my knee is practically at my ear and ohmygod he's even deeper and harder and bigger this way and then his thumb is back on my clit and yes, firm yes, I like sex. I arch my back and dig my fingertips into Rhys's forearms and he's whispering the good girl thing again in my ear and all the pressure and friction ignite and my legs are tensing and I'm coming and it's all so tight and warm and I squeeze my eyes shut and a stream of 'ohs' fall from my mouth.
Rhys groans when I tighten around him, holding himself still over me, and then he's moving again, making short jabs with his hips until he's coming too, the tension leaving his jaw and he's beautiful, so beautiful, and I can't believe I got to do this with him.
"That felt like a wave," I tell him, when he's done, collapsed on top of me, breathing hard. "Like a warm intense wave, or maybe the best part of a roller coaster or like flying." I run my fingers along his back, exploring the lines with my fingertips, running my nails lightly across his skin. "It felt different with you inside of me, the orgasm. Different than it felt with your thumb or your mouth. And wet. It felt wetter. Feels wetter. I think it's probably because you just came in me. It feels kinda messy, but like a mess from a good party you don't want to clean up yet." He's silent, save for the sound of his breathing. "Sorry, I'm not any good at dirty talk."
"Are you trying to kill me?" He pants the question into my ear.
"No." I shake my head against the pillow under my head. "Of course not. I want to do that again."
He eases out of me and I feel an instant void from the loss. And sore, I feel sore and exposed and vulnerable. Rhys gets off the bed and walks through an open door, flipping on a light as he enters the bathroom. His ass is perfect, just like I thought it would be. Tight and muscular and there's a little dimple thing I need to explore next time.