“You don't mince words.”
“No, never.”
I lower my head and plant three gentle kisses on her lips.
“Oh, God, I can taste myself,” she says, licking her lips.
“I know,” I laugh. “For the first time, I want you to come on my cock,” I tell her.
“Oh, I don't—” she waves a dismissive hand in front of her face. “Never mind.”
“Finish your sentence,” I press.
“What about tying me up?”
I'm not sure what just happened, but I let it slide.
“What about tying you up?”
“Did you forget?”
“One doesn't mutually exclude the other.” I set her straight.
That worried look again.
“It isn't fair if you’re the only one naked. Let me get undressed,” I say.
She tilts her head back and laughs.
I watch her watch me as I undo my tie and fling it on the bed.
“We’ll need that for a little later,” I wink.
I remove my charcoal gray jacket, reach out and drop it on the dresser. My white shirt is next. I unbutton it and slide it off my shoulders before flinging it on top of the jacket.
“Ha! You have tattoos,” she exclaims, her eyes widening like saucers.
I can't read her expression.
“Is that a deal breaker?” I ask.
“Before I moved to LA… maybe.” I appreciate her honesty. “But, that's before the colored hair. Now, I can handle living on the edge,” she laughs.
“The tattoos are part of the bad boy rocker package,” I joke. “I gather from your response, you’ve never been with a guy who’s inked?”
“No,” she shakes her head. “My ex-boyfriend had a ‘the third’ behind his name and he was part of the Barrington Hills Polo Club—just outside of Chicago. No tattoos. No facial hair. No edge. He always wore an undershirt—even under t-shirts and even in the smoldering heat. I never saw him in jeans. He was as straight-laced as they come,” she says. “Is it just random art?” Her eyes are glued to me.
“Most of them are, except for this one,” I point to my chest above my heart.
She moves closer. “It's so intricate. I can't make out the words.”
“Naomi.”
Her eyes lift up to mine. “Your daughter?”
“My world.”
She reaches out and traces the letters with the tip of her finger. The contact sends a thrill that travels all the way down to my balls.
“That's…” She hesitates. “That's so beautiful. She's with you everywhere you go.”
Few women get it.
I just nod.
She continues her exploration by running her hands along my arm.
“Wow. Your tattoos run from your shoulders all the way down to your wrists. Did it hurt?”
“It hurt like a bitch, but the result was worth it. I didn't get it all done in one shot. I started with the shoulder and bicep, then I moved to my chest—all on the right side of my body. A few years later, I got the left shoulder and bicep done, but didn’t do the chest—the lack of symmetry makes it more interesting. I thought I was done, but I decided to do my forearms to celebrate the end of my career as a rock star.”
“I always thought tattoos were rebellious. Gang related, even. It never occurred to me they could be meaningful. LA changed that,” she says.
“In some cultures that's all they are.”
“You wear them well.”
“Thanks. They’re part of me.”
We exchange a warm smile until my cock reminds me I have a gorgeous, nearly naked woman standing in front of me. Without breaking her gaze, I kick off my London-made bespoke shoes, then unzip my pants and pull them down my legs before stepping out of them. I remove my socks and with quick hands, I strip out of my boxer briefs. I now stand in front of her fully naked.
I’m so hungry for her, my cock is erect straight against my stomach, pointing north. Instinctively, I grab it and start to stroke it gently as I walk towards her.
“Wow.” She swallows hard. “You’re way too big.”
“How do you know?” I challenge.
She flashes me an incredulous look. “Have you seen how huge you are?”
“Only once or twice.” I chuckle. “You're freaking out for no good reason. You’ll stretch.”
“I'll never stretch enough to accommodate that massive thing,” she waves a frantic finger at my cock.
“Are you a virgin?”
She shakes her head. “No, but…” Her words trail off.
“But, what?”
“I've only had one boyfriend. And let's just say you put him to shame.”
“We’ll take it slow and you'll take me in like a champ.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Since this is our first time together and I have this massive thing…” I lower my eyes to my cock. She laughs. “I don't want this to be too intimidating for you. I’m going to sit down on the bed and you’re going to straddle me.”
“How is that going to work?”
“You’re going to slide down on my cock. That way you can take me in an inch at a time.”
She widens her eyes, surprised. “Oh, okay.”
“Why do I feel you’re hesitating?”
She worries away at the corner of her lip. “I’ve never been on top before.”
“Ah. I see. Straight-laced polo boy liked it missionary style?”
She explodes in laughter.
“Something like that.”
I smile down at her. “Well, donut dominatrix, we’re going to do everything but the missionary position. Are you up for that?”
“On one condition?”
“The baby donut dominatrix has demands?” I tease.
“Just one.”
“Shoot.”
“Please don’t rip me in half.”
“I won't. I can't. I need your pussy. If you think we’re doing this once tonight, you're gravely mistaken. We’re doing this over, and over, and over again.”
“God save me,” she hisses.
I stroke my cock hard and squeeze the tip just enough to lose a few drops of moisture. “I'm your only salvation tonight, precious.”
I let go of my cock, walk back to the dresser and find my wallet. I fumble through it until I find a condom.
“I’m on the pill,” she offers.
“Yeah?”
Best to double check.
She nods. “I’ve been on it for years, for my periods.”
“Good.”
I bring the packet to my mouth, rip it open with my teeth, pull it out and I sheath. Her eyes are on me the whole time. I stride back to the bed and sit, grab the tie and wiggle my finger at her.
“Come closer.”
She does.
“Hands out,” I command.
Her eyes bounce from the tie to my gaze for a few beats.
“What if I'm really bad at this? That would be so embarrassing for a first time,” she finally says.
My fierce vixen transforms into a worried little girl.
“Look at me,” I command. “We’re in this together. Okay?”