by Meghan Quinn
His hand ran over his mouth as he took me in. “I’m such a dumbass,” he confessed.
“Why?”
“For waiting this long. I should have done this the first day I met you.”
With that, Henry lowered down his head and placed his lips softly on mine. When I pleasured him, it was more of an experiment for me—a little learning experience—but when Henry was in charge, it was more about passion, something I’d longed for.
While he kissed me, his hands ran up my body until they hit my breasts. With gentle strokes, his thumbs played with the underside of my boobs, something I absolutely adored, actually craved.
His hands massaged and soothed me, as if he’d been feeling me up for years, sending waves of pleasure rolling through my heated veins. He knew what to touch, when to touch it, and the kind of pressure it needed. There was no hitch in his movements, just pure confidence. And when his thumbs stroked my breasts, his kisses grew even heavier, needier.
And when his thumbs pulled away, so did his lips, killing me softly with pleasure. It was pure torture, fantastically amazing torture.
Growing impatient from the pressure building in the pit of my stomach, I was about to encourage him to suck on my nipples again, but I didn’t get a chance because he was so in tune with my body he started making his way down to my breasts before I could say anything.
His mouth found one of my nipples, causing my back to arch off the bed from the light bite he applied.
“God. God, that feels good,” I said, voicing my pleasure, something I never thought I would do but given the feelings running through me, I couldn’t control what flowed out of my mouth. Delaney was right: when in the throes of passion, you couldn’t control what you said or did.
Giving the other nipple attention, I writhed under his touch, his caress, his suckle, until I felt completely spent and in desperate need for him to ease the ache between my thighs.
Slowly, he lifted his head, smiled devilishly at me, and kissed my sternum, then my stomach, then right above my pubic bone. I gasped as he lowered himself completely below me and positioned my legs over his shoulders. He had me in a provocative position, and I should have been nervous, I should have been squirming under him, but I wasn’t. I was with Henry, and I was safe.
Relaxing into the bed, I closed my eyes and allowed Henry to taste me, like he said. His fingers touched me, spreading me wide and with one small swipe, his tongue ran right against my clit.
“Uhhhhh,” I moaned loudly. My upper body relaxed as my lower half tensed with every stroke, every flick. It was an odd sensation to feel like your body was floating on a cloud, yet was building and building to this epic moment.
There were times in a girl’s life where she knew she’d remember a certain moment in time and right now, with Henry’s head between my thighs, his tongue lapping at me like I was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted, I knew I’d never forget this. This moment was about to define me as I realized Henry was going to be the first guy to ever give me an orgasm. I wouldn’t have had it any other way.
When I thought I couldn’t handle his tongue any longer, the pressure was too intense, his fingers gently swooped inside of me while his tongue stroked my clit with a strong thrust.
Fuuuck.
The room disappeared, it was just me and Henry and the way he desperately played with me, teased me, tantalized my pussy with his tongue. It felt like every nerve in my body pooled between my legs and exploded all at once, rendering me speechless. My body stiffened like a board, my toes curled, and this overwhelming sense of complete and utter pleasure overtook my body as Henry’s tongue continued to move against my clit, making my body embarrassingly convulse in all different kinds of directions.
“Fuuuuuuuuuck,” I screamed as my body finally settled back on the plush mattress, twitch after pleasurable twitch lightly shocked me.
Henry slowly pulled away and traveled up the length of my body, spreading small, feather like kisses along my impassioned skin. When he reached my face, he delighted me with a full on grin, then kissed me, letting me taste myself on his lips.
I’d read this in books before and let me tell you, I wasn’t turned on like all the other girls were. I was actually perplexed as to why Henry felt the need to have me taste myself, or have my taste on him.
“Was that your first orgasm?” he asked quietly, almost desperate to hear the answer.
“It was.”
“And did you enjoy yourself?”
Giving him a pointed look, I said, “You know damn well I did by my obscene gurgling sounds coming out of my mouth. Jesus, could I have sounded any less attractive?”
“I liked it. It was fucking sexy.” He smiled. “How do you feel?”
“Wet.” We both chuckled, the sound sweet.
“Good, do you think you’re up for more?” he asked, peeking at his cock. Oh that’s hot, he’s turned on again, just from going down on me. He was ready.
But the question was, was I ready for this? I meant, I’d actually wanted it more than anything, but hell, I was nervous. Books said it was a slight pinch, but the girls loved it after the initial barrier was broken, so it couldn’t be that bad, right?
And this was with Henry, he wouldn’t hurt me. If anything, he would be the absolute perfect man to do this with because he truly cared about me and if I wanted anyone to take my virginity, it would be him.
Wanting to finally find out, I nodded and brought Henry’s head to mine, wanting to kiss his beautiful lips and sink into his embrace. I was doing this with my best friend, with my Henry.
His body spread against mine, allowing me to once again feel his penis against my thigh, something I was starting to grow quite fond of and fast. What a weird thing to enjoy—penis against thigh. Rosie Bloom liked to write, hated cats, enjoyed Chinese food, and penis against her thigh.
His hands wandered up to mine, playing with my breasts and teasing me relentlessly, while my hands wandered just as much but never really touching his penis. Two could play at this game.
“Don’t tease me,” he said into my neck as he kissed me up and down.
“Why not? You’re doing the same,” I said breathlessly as he pinched my nipple. “God, my nipples love you.”
“Good to know.” He chuckled just as his mouth wrapped around my breasts and sucked hard. My back arched, my toes curled, and my mind went blank as I pressed his head closer to my chest. It was pathetic, I knew it, but the minute I found out my nipples controlled the be-all and end-all of pleasure, I wanted them played with at all times.
Like a professional, Henry sucked, nipped, licked, and pinched them, never letting up, never paying too much attention to one single nipple. In five minutes, he had me begging and pleading for more, my legs falling to the side.
“I don’t know how much longer I can last, watching you writhe under me like this,” Henry said into my breast.
“Then don’t,” I breathed out.
He pulled away, gave me a questioning look of did I really want this? With a curt nod, I gave him the go-ahead.
With the green light, he leaned over to the nightstand and grabbed a condom. If I wasn’t so sated, I would have offered to put it on, practice my condom skills, but I let him take care of it. I would have been a fumbling mess in my state.
Once he was done, he positioned himself over me again and grabbed my legs so they hung over his shoulders.
“Wh-what are you doing?” I asked, feeling incredibly nervous.
“Making this as easy on you as possible. Do you trust me, Rosie?”
“More than anyone I know,” I admitted honestly.
“Okay, then I’ll be honest. This won’t feel very good, it might hurt a lot since I’m pretty big and you’re very tight.”
“Think pretty highly of yourself, don’t you?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood.
“You know it’s the truth.” He grinned wickedly. He was right; he was sporting a tree trunk. “Ready? I’m going to go slow.”
&nb
sp; I nodded and braced myself. His hands ran to my breasts as he said, “Relax, love. The more relaxed you are, the easier this will be. Be in the moment with me.”
Unclenching, I tried to take deep breaths while one of his hands went to my right nipple. His other hand had a hold of his cock, which now rubbed against my entrance. Surprisingly, I was incredibly wet so when he rubbed his cock against me, it actually slid easily, easing my stressed muscles.
“Oh, do more of that,” I said while I braced my hands above my head, gripping onto the headboard.
Chuckling, he did as was asked, and I reveled in the feel of the smooth tip of his cock running the length of my slit. It felt incredible, just incredible enough for me to forget the fact that Henry inserted the tip of his cock into my vagina.
“Oh.” I adjusted, but with each movement, he slowly went deeper.
“Don’t move, love,” Henry said, looking a little pained.
“Are you okay?” I tried to steady my breathing.
“You’re so goddamn tight, love.”
“I’m sorry, should we stop?”
“No! Don’t be sorry, you feel beyond amazing. If it’s all right with you, I’m going to go a little deeper. Are you all right with that?”
“I think so,” I said cautiously as I held my breath.
“You think so?” he questioned with a grin.
“Well, I guess since you’re already pushing past the threshold, you should go all the way, right? I guess with you I can say, go big or go home.”
Chuckling, he shook his head while looking at me. “Remind me to tell you about bedroom talk later; we’ve blown past all bedroom decorum.”
“Like what?” I asked, curious as to what I possibly said.
“Not now, Rosie,” he said a little pained. “Kind of having a hard time tipping you.”
“Tipping. Huh, is that a real term?”
“Not now, love.”
I was about to say sorry when his lips found mine once again, but this time instead of being gentle, he was more demanding. He nipped my lip with his teeth, plunged his tongue into my mouth, and once again fondled my breasts. The onslaught of attention to my body had me forgetting what he was doing down below and before I knew it, a sharp pain flew through my lower half, making my body arch off the mattress and a moan escape my lips.
“Are you okay?” Henry stilled above me. His breathing was labored, and I knew this was difficult for him and yet, he was so incredibly patient.
Eyes tightly shut from the pain that ripped through me, I took a few deep breaths and once the initial shock of what happened passed, I eased my body and opened my eyes. Henry’s concern was reassuring as he scanned me for any indication that he should stop.
Oddly, I wasn’t hurting like I thought I would, besides the initial “pinch” that was talked about. I just felt . . . full. I felt stretched, yet satisfied, like Henry was meant to be inside me all this time.
“I feel full but in a good way.”
“Good.”
Gently, Henry moved his hips in and out of me, forming a kind of friction I’d never felt before, even when I got the vibrator stuck up there, there was nothing like having his cock slide in and out of my tight channel. His lips caressed my jaw, sucking and kissing, turning an awkward moment into an intimate one.
His hands traveled slowly up and down my body, sending goosebumps over my skin. His fingers traced the outline of my ribs and at a snail’s pace, found their way back to my breasts where I felt my chest press into his hand once he grabbed hold of them. I was shameless.
The movements of his lips and fingers combined with the gentle thrusts going in and out of me had my body wanting more, needing more, craving more. I felt like whatever he was doing was not satisfying the pressure starting to build deep inside of me, until one of his hands ran down my stomach and hovered right above my pubic bone.
Desperately, I waited for his next move, wanting to see what he had in store because so far, I was cursing myself for not partaking in sexual intercourse until now. With the slip of his finger, he pressed against my clit, applying the right amount of pressure to make the world around me slip into a dull darkness and leave only Henry and me in view.
“I’m going to come, love,” Henry gritted out.
I wanted to respond, I wanted to tell him it was okay, but the epic orgasm pulsing through my veins took over, and I was left speechless. Two more thrusts, a pinch to the nipple, and pressure on my clit, had me screaming his name, pulling on his hair, and curling my legs around his waist, thrusting my hips into him, trying to steal every last ounce of pleasure.
“Henry,” I screamed just as I felt him stiffen above me, making a low groan of his own.
“God,” he mumbled, his chest corded, tight, his orgasm ripping through him at the same time.
Once we couldn’t move anymore, we stilled and simply stared at each other. Henry hovered over me perfectly, granting me that sexy smile of his, and right then and there, I felt happy. Truly happy.
“By the nipple hairs of a wildebeest, that was by far the best thing I’ve ever experienced,” I confessed while reaching up and caressing Henry’s hair softly.
A full on laugh escaped him as he shook his head and presses a kiss to my lips.
From my touch, Henry switched to leaning on his elbows so he was only a few inches above me. His hands went to my face as well and stroked my cheeks. I relished in the feel of him on top of me, of him caressing me, being intimate in a completely different way. Was this what post sex was like? Probably not with everyone, some people probably did the deed and went on with their lives, but I enjoyed this so much more. I enjoyed the sight of Henry’s eyes soaking me in, loving me. It was a moment I would never forget.
My phone beeped, letting me know I had a message, and that was when I remembered the missed call.
I thought about answering it to avoid an awkward moment but held off when Henry asked, “Was everything okay?”
“It was perfect, Henry. It hurt a little at first but you helped me forget. You’re really good at kissing.”
“I should say the same about you. You do this thing with your tongue that has me losing all my self-control.”
“Really?” I asked, kind of proud of myself.
“Really.” Henry chuckled. Stroking my cheek, he continued, “You’re so beautiful, you know that?”
“Thank you,” I replied shyly. “You’re kind of crazy sexy yourself.”
“Just kind of?” he teased.
“Only kind of.” I smiled.
My phone beeped again, which had me wondering. No one would leave me a message unless it was important. My overactive imagination freaked me out at the thought of my mom and dad dying in a ditch somewhere.
“Do you mind if I check my phone?”
“That’s fine,” he said, getting off me.
I sat up and looked down to find that the crisp and clean sheets were now covered in blood.
“Holy hell, it looks like someone sacrificed a lamb,” I said, wondering if everything was okay down below.
“Hold on, let me get a warm towel to wipe things up.”
I took in the sight of Henry’s tight rear end as he shuffled off the bed, shucked his condom, and threw on a pair of athletic shorts that were in his closet. Never thought I would be checking out my best friend, but damn if I couldn’t help it now.
Within seconds, Henry reappeared with a washcloth. Taking charge, he spread my legs, which made me blush, and started cleaning me up. To say I felt mortified was an understatement. I’d read about men cleaning girls in books and how it was a kind gesture, which it was, but for a girl who’d just started spreading her legs for the man cleaning her, I felt like clenching my thighs shut, not caring if his hand was still in there or not, but I refrained.
“There, you’re all set.”
Wanting to cover my body, I leaned over and grabbed his shirt to shield his prying eyes that were staring at my breasts.
“Don’t cover up on my b
ehalf.” He laughed, as I grabbed my phone from my purse and keyed up the voicemail. The missed call was a number I didn’t recognize, so I grew even more worried.
The voicemail started, and I listened carefully while sitting next to Henry on his bed.
“Hi Rosie, it’s Atticus. You know the guy you kicked in the crotch? Uh, I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to call you. I’ve been out of town and also trying to gain the courage to call you again. Even though things ended on a crushing note”—he chuckled—“I would still like to see you. I had a great time, minus foot to the crotch, so if you were thinking you might want to go out again, give me a call. Okay, see ya.”
I sat there, motionless as I listened to Atticus’s voice on my phone. He still wanted to go out with me? After I took out his family marbles? Atticus was probably the last person I expected to hear from.
Now I was confused. I looked over at Henry whose brow was wrinkled and was staring at his hands that rested on his lap.
“Umm, that was Atticus, you know, the guy I kicked.”
“Yeah, in the balls, right?”
“Yeah, he uh, wants to go out again.”
Silence filtered into the room. I was confused. I didn’t know what to do. Obviously if I had it my way, I’d be lying with Henry, relishing in the feel of his embrace, but right now, I wasn’t sure where he stood. From all his hints and the way he’d touched me, spoken to me, I figured he’d want to start a more serious relationship with me rather than just be friends. But by the way he was distancing himself from me now, maybe I was wrong.
Clapping his hands, Henry stood and turned his back to me.
“Sounds like you should call him back. I have to take a shower and then go out. I, uh, will see you around.”
Time stood still as I watched Henry gather his towels and shower caddy, as if he couldn’t wipe the scent of me off him quick enough. What just happened?
“Wh-what are you doing?” I stuttered.
“Taking a shower,” he repeated while facing me this time, his face completely expressionless, like what we just did hadn’t been a magical act of ungodly pleasure.
