“I believe you’ll put forth your best effort, Gwendolyn. Now, I’m going to lick your sweet pussy while you tell me the metals on the periodic table. You are not allowed to come until you say them all, do you understand?” I waited until she agreed before crawling onto her queen-sized bed, kissing up her smooth right leg as I did. Then lifted the left to kiss and lick my way back to the center before placing it over my shoulder for support.
“You may begin.” I blew against her clit, and she started naming off the metals on the periodic table.
As soon as my tongue flicked against her, she whimpered, “Magnesium.” Music to my ears.
Her words were slower and stuttered, which worked perfectly for me since I could lick her all day.
“I wanna come,” she groaned, and I shook my head, the motion rubbing against her clit, making her cry out in pleasure.
“Do you wanna get an F?” I asked, trying to keep up our game.
“If F means fucked, then yes, I want to get fucked.”
Game over.
I kissed up her mound and kept going. I wasn’t sure how she would react to my mouth on hers after eating her cunt, but she surprised me by pulling my lips to hers. The whole act was erotic as fuck, and I felt her heat inviting my dick to dive on in.
“It’s gonna hurt,” I told her, hoping she understood I wasn’t doing this to hurt her, but it would be unavoidable.
“I know, just do it and don’t stop kissing me.”
That I could do.
I wasn’t sure if it would have been easier for her for me to inch in slowly or fast, so I went with the old “rip the Band-Aid off quickly” method and slipped in fast.
She cried out from pain, and I kissed her through it, holding still so she could adjust.
“Titanium, vanadium, chromium.” I started naming off the metals that I could remember from the table, hoping it would help distract her from the pain. She took a few deep breaths into me and began naming some with me. Slowly her body began to relax, and I felt like I could move without causing her pain.
Her hands caressed my arm and settled on my back, nails lightly scraping my skin, making my hips move into her with a bit more force.
“Oh, I liked that,” she mewled.
I did too. Picking up the pace, I kept my strokes long and deep, lifting up onto my arms, rolling my hips into hers faster and faster. Her hair was splayed across her pillow, and her eyes were bright and hooded as she felt me sliding in and out, taking my sanity away with every movement.
Then her eyes traveled down my body to where we were connected.
I fucking lost it.
She was watching us, it was hot as hell. Lifting her legs, bending them closer to her chest, my hands went to her breasts, and I unleashed myself on her. Her head rolled back into the pillow and those delectable hands of hers went to my forearms as we rocked together.
“Watch me fuck your sweet heat, Gwendolyn. It’s a perfect fucking sight. You’re so sexy. Do you even know how sexy you are?”
We watched me move inside her, and I swear the glistening sight alone was going to make me come.
“I feel sexy, and I really like this.”
“You are fucking sexy. You bring me to my knees every time you turn those ice-blue eyes on me.”
Oh God, her pussy squeezed me tight. She liked me talking to her, and I could feel her body getting ready to detonate.
“You’re gonna make me come with those noises you make when my cock is deep inside you.”
She moaned, and her nails dug into my arms, so close.
“You like my talking, goddess? Telling you how you make me wanna come so fucking hard that I can’t remember my own name?”
Boom.
Her head flew back, and she screamed to the gods above as her release swept her away into a sea of bliss.
I was right behind her, groaning her name as my strokes came faster and harder, feeling every centimeter of her clenching around me in waves, milking me.
Together we came back from our orgasms and both felt the need for connection. She pulled my head toward hers at the same time I was leaning down, sharing a sweet, deep kiss.
This girl was my world, and I vowed to make her feel it with every kiss we exchanged.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Gwendolyn
After cleaning myself up and changing my sheets, which bore the stains of my lost virginity, I returned to my bed with Arthur, my body curled against his, his fingers stroking softly against my bare back.
He’d been gentle with me, but still managed to unleash himself without me freaking out or feeling uncomfortable.
I’d said it before and the words still rang true—he’d awoken something in me, and it was hangry. I’d had only a taste of him and his touch. I was far from done.
He made me wait for a bit before we were at it again. I’d spent the time asking him what positions we could try. Turns out I did not like doggy style one bit. I needed to be able to see his face the whole time. We had to stop for ten minutes while I calmed myself down after that fiasco. But we were teaching each other, and I was figuring out what I liked.
Now we were still in the bed, Arthur fast asleep on the left side of the mattress with pillows between us.
He’d put them there, claiming he needed rest, or I was going to drain the life out of him through his dick.
It made me laugh, and I knew he was kidding. But with dramatic flair, he put the pillows between us, trying to deter me. If anything, it made me more likely to come after him. Once I was obsessed with something, it was all I could think of until my mind found something else to focus on.
He looked so peaceful sleeping next to me, his glasses lying on my nightstand. I would leave him alone, letting him rest easy in my home.
I turned over and looked at my nightstand. The orb of metal I kept there was melted and dripping onto the wooden floors. I could understand the feeling. My body felt like it had melted over and over and was forged anew.
Sleep found me easily, and I didn’t even have to reshape my metal ball more than three times.
Arthur was up before me in the morning, which surprised me. I found him cooking breakfast in my kitchen, chatting it up with Pops. It was nice to see, although it broke from my routine.
“Morning, sleepy.” Arthur grinned and then walked over to give me a morning kiss.
“Morning,” I replied, feeling absurdly shy. He’d literally been inside me many times, and I had the soreness to prove it. Somehow it still didn’t feel real. I watched the muscles flex in his bare back as he walked around the kitchen, finishing the pancakes. He was only wearing his jeans, and his tanned skin and chiseled muscles were a nice contrast to my metal and white apartment. He was color, and I was the blank canvas. Together we made art.
I could try and just enjoy this for what it was.
He deserved nothing less than me trying to make whatever this was work.
“Are you my boyfriend now?” I felt silly asking—we weren’t teenagers in high school—but labeling this felt more secure to me.
He stopped flipping the pancakes and looked me over with that sexy smirk on his face. I knew he wouldn’t think I was silly, but I could see humor dancing on his face.
“I’m yours, and you are mine. Call me whatever you want to call me, whatever makes you feel happiest.” He walked over to my coffee machine and poured some into my favorite mug.