Barrett’s hands go down the back of my panties, squeezing my cheeks, and he groans into our kiss as if it’s the best ass he’s ever touched. Without warning, he easily hefts me up his body and carries me to my bedroom like I’m some petite pixie girl when in reality, I’m thicker than most.
But nothing about this encounter seems like it’s part of reality. It’s all so dreamlike that I’m afraid I’m going to wake up any second, that I’m imagining it like I imagined the man following me earlier…
When Barrett lays me down on my soft mattress, the look on his face above me is nearly feral as he jerks my panties down my legs to get them off me, as if he’s angry at them for being in his way. As soon as they’re gone, he moves up my body, both knees on the outsides of my legs, his heavy weight sinking onto my chest and stomach. He’s so big and hard in his jeans as he rocks against my thigh.
One second, his palms are under my bottom, squeezing both cheeks; the next, they’re fondling my breasts before he puts one hand on each at the same time. His mouth is as urgent on my neck and then my lips as his hands, which can’t seem to cover enough of my body fast enough.
That’s when I’m certain that Barrett is definitely the man I want my first time to be with. This is how I always imagined it. An overwhelming need. An unexpected night of mindless passion. Being with someone so desperate for me they’re a little wild and out of control because they need me right that second.
None of it feels real until his teasing fingers move from my bottom to between my legs, caressing me so intimately, gently invading me with just the tip of one while his thumb rubs my clit. As my back arches, I cry out his name from the building pleasure. That’s when I know this is all actually happening. I couldn’t imagine anything to make me feel so good, so sexy, so alive.
Men like Barrett never look at me, much less want to get me naked under them or touch me.
My bitchy low self-esteem tries to make excuses for him – like he must be drunk, high, or desperate to want me tonight.
But he seemed so clearheaded earlier that I push those explanations away. He actually wants me. That’s the only explanation for why his mouth is now covering my breasts, licking them, sucking on them hard enough to leave marks while his fingers try to get me off.
And they would’ve done so already if I wasn’t so lost in my head.
Pushing all of the negative thoughts away, I try to focus on the here and now because I don’t want to miss a second.
Releasing my breast from his mouth, Barrett lifts his head. Reaching over to the bedside table, he turns on the lamp, then appears to study me intensely. His eyes move from my messy hair to my face, lower to the red marks on my skin his mouth just made, then back up again to my eyes.
When he’s staring down at me again, his gaze locked on mine, he works two fingers inside of me, making me gasp.
“God, you’re so gorgeous I could get off just looking at you. But I want it to be good for you too.”
It takes longer than it should for me to be able to speak. “It is…it is good,” I assure him as I run my palms over his flexing biceps.
“Not good enough. Tell me how you like it, what makes you go crazy, what makes you come.”
How I like it? What makes me come? Even if I could think clearly at the moment, I wouldn’t be able to answer those questions.
Instead of admitting to him in the heat of the moment that I’m inexperienced in that whole area, I squeeze my thighs together and make my inner walls clench around his fingers a few times.
Closing my eyes, I tip my head back and moan because it feels good. So good I assume that’s all there is to having an actual orgasm.
After I moan and clench a few more times, I reach between us to the front of Barrett’s jeans to grab his hard bulge and tell him, “That felt good, but I want you inside of me now.”
His eyes slam shut, and he makes a grunting sound of agreement as he thrusts against my palm a few times. When he opens his eyes again, he sits back on his heels to undo his belt, telling me, “I’m already so close it’s going to be hard and fast.”
Hard and fast my first time? I bet it’s gonna hurt, but at least it’ll be done and over soon, right?
Unfortunately, Barrett has to climb off the foot of the bed to remove his boots, jeans, and socks. At least it gives me a chance to just look at him and appreciate all of him. He seems bigger when he’s completely naked. Bigger everywhere.
I barely notice him pulling out a condom from his pants and taking it out of the foil, but there’s no missing when he holds himself to roll the rubber down his thick shaft. He’s so hot, and I’m so turned on that the throbbing, insistent pulse between my thighs grows even stronger – insistent for I’m not entirely sure what.
When Barrett crawls back onto the bed, he kisses his way up each of my legs slowly, my belly, my breasts, then finally my mouth as his strong hands spread my thighs to make room for his body between them. His erection bumps against my entrance a few times until Barrett reaches down to line it up and ease his way inside of me. So far, so good.
“Goddamn, you’re tight,” he says, followed by an open-mouthed, choked groan as he thrusts even deeper…and rips me apart.
“Ow.” I tried not to make a sound, but it’s impossible. I slap my hand over my mouth to keep any other sounds inside. But it’s too late.
Barrett goes still. He’s frozen above me, still buried inside of me, stretching me in ways that should be impossible. Either he’s too big or I’m too tight for all of him. And he’s apparently realized that.
I try to lean up to kiss him as an attempt at a distraction, but even that small movement makes me whimper. Barrett pulls back as my head hits the mattress again. His brow is furrowed, full lips frowning. It’s the kind of confused and disapproving look you never want to see on a lover when he’s currently inside of you.
“Lyla, are you…” He trails off.
I have to clear my throat, which again jars him inside of me, making me wince. “A virgin?” I manage to squeak out.
“Yeah.”
“Not anymore.”
“Jesus Christ!” Barrett exclaims loud enough to wake the dead as he pulls out of me, removing the burning ache but leaving me unbelievably empty as I breathe for the first time in several long seconds. It’s the strangest thing. My lower body wants him back in there, which doesn’t make any sense at all. How are women expected to endure this on a regular basis? Why didn’t my sister or best friend warn me how much sex hurts?
“You should have told me,” he says.
“If-if I had told you, then you wouldn’t have wanted to, and I needed this, to be with you.”
“Why me? Why tonight?”
“I don’t know. I just…I wanted you so much. I was afraid telling you would ruin the moment.”
Barrett lowers his forehead to the uninjured side of my head but holds the rest of himself up. “I wanted you too, more than you know,” he tells me softly. “But you should have told me because if I had known, I would have tried to make it better for you.”
“Oh.”
“I could’ve licked your pussy first, made you come a few more times, made it hurt less and feel better for you.”
“Well, um, I thought it was going pretty well before you stopped,” I lie. My head isn’t ready to keep going, even if my body wants to.