I sighed and pulled on my lip with my teeth, unsure of the sexual etiquette. His words were turning me on, and I wanted to mount him like a prize-winning show jumper. Should those words turn me on? Or rather, should I admit they turned me on? Shy, little Elle Davis with the childhood keepsakes and sensible underwear liked filthy, dirty words. No one had ever spoken to me that way before, and it only added to my growing arousal. I knew I was wet. I could feel the hot pool between my legs, but I was still hesitant. He took charge, lifting my hand, encouraging me to touch myself. My lip stayed caught between my teeth as I stroked myself through my underwear and watched him rub his cock over the strained denim of his jeans.
‘What do you want, gorgeous?’ he asked. ‘I think you like my dirty words.’ I nodded. Those dirty words had penetrated my skin and collected together to lift my hand and make me reach inside my lace knickers. The ones I had purchased especially for moments like this. The ones I would later be thanking Abi for picking out. He watched as I started to touch the hot, swollen bud hidden away underneath. ‘Fuuuck, what are you doing to me?’ He threw his head back and squeezed his eyes shut in what I wasn’t sure was a reaction of pleasure or pain. ‘Who’d have thought you were a good girl with a very naughty side?’
I removed my hand and leant down, kissing him hard on the lips as I steadied myself, looping my arms around his shoulders as I looked around the room drinking in the small clues that told me more about the man panting in front of me. There were two tall shelving units filled with music and films, all ordered yet messy. My mind wandered to cosy nights in together watching James Bond films and casual Sunday afternoons listening to music, my legs draped over his as I read home and lifestyle magazines, planning our next house move as a couple. Except, he didn’t want that. Luke didn’t know if we would ever get to that cosy place.
‘Stop thinking,’ he whispered. I straightened and shook my head, hoping to settle the stray thoughts. ‘Don’t think about anything but what feels good when we’re doing this. I want that dirty girl back.’
I returned to staring into his eyes, willing him to see the spark of potential that should be sought and found in any new relationship. ‘Where are you, dirty girl?’ He reached round to tease the back of my neck, dragging me back into the moment where thoughts and questions about where this was going didn’t matter.
He gently put his hand on my breastbone and pushed me back onto the sofa. My chest was still exposed and my jeans were lazily pulled down to my knees, but I didn’t care. I could be dishevelled, rumpled and messy because nothing else mattered. I wanted to feel his bare chest on mine. I needed the glorious sensation of his body pressing down on me, the heat from his body warming me. I wanted to feel more. I needed more.
I groaned as he pushed his hips towards me, simulating the thrusts of sex through the barrier of our clothes, stroking the side of my body with his left hand, picking up the pace of his hips, making the delicious ache inside of me impossible to ignore. ‘Tell me what you want. I. Need. To. Know. You. Are. OK. With. This,’ he said between thrusts. I nodded my head. There was nothing else I could do. ‘Tell me,’ he moaned through gritted teeth. ‘Talk to me, beautiful.’
‘Take off my underwear. I want to be naked.’
‘Holy fuck,’ he moaned, as he swiftly pulled his body up like an electric shock had propelled him into action, his muscles flexed and tensed as he hauled me up, pulling my jeans down with enough force to make my stomach flip and as he frantically ran both hands up the soft flesh of the inside of my thighs. I latched my hands onto his head and ruffled his hair between my fingers. He was an exquisite mix of emotions. Softly and slowly, he felt his way around my body in an attempt to get to know every line in fine detail, and then quickly and franticly when his arousal got the better of him. ‘You are fucking beautiful,’ he whispered, hooking his fingers into my knickers and pulling them down to my ankles.
Taking my hand, he pulled me through the living room towards the stairs, only stopping to bend down and tap my ankles to encourage me to step out of my underwear. I reached out, linking my hands around his shoulders to steady myself. His hands were everywhere as we climbed the stairs, squeezing the flesh of my cheeks and taking advantage of the slow pace, enabling him to kiss a trail down my spine to the dimples that sat at the bottom. He moved forward, crossing me as he led me by the hand to his bedroom.
I don’t know why I started to analyse at this critical moment in my sexual awakening, but the first thing I noticed was how bare the room was, making it obvious that he hadn’t been in the house long. His jacket was hanging over the back of a plastic chair that looked like it had been stolen from a pub garden in the early hours of the morning in a probable drunken haze.
As I looked around trying to soak in every ounce of him, he wrapped his arms around my waist, startling me like I had been caught secretly rifling through his underwear drawer. ‘I want to make you come. Let me feel you all over my fingers, baby. Do you think I haven’t noticed you and your fucking legs that go on for miles? I’ve always noticed, but there wasn’t a damn thing I could have done about it.’
He held my breast in his hand and I leant my head back. ‘Am I scaring you?’ I shook my head quietly, but didn’t speak. I wasn’t capable of forming sentences that would have made even the tiniest bit of sense. ‘Have you ever had an orgasm?’ he asked, still kneading my breast as I smiled teasingly. ‘Ahh, there’s that naughty girl again. You’ve made yourself come, haven’t you? No one’s touched you there apart from you. Shit!’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I’ve never been with a virgin before.’
Suddenly our nerves filled the room. I covered my mouth with my hand and willed myself to stop smiling, but this only encouraged the laughter to burst through. He raised his head to the ceiling. ‘That didn’t help, did it?’ His face soon turned serious after the brief interlude that helped us chase away the last of our nerves. I reminded myself of the magnitude of the situation as he returned his fascination to my breasts. I felt the delectable rub of his thumb over my sensitive nipple. The more pressure he applied, the more I believed that movement alone would be enough to make me come. ‘Tell me what you need,’ he said.
You. I need you.
‘I want to please you. Tell me what you want. Tell me where you want my hand.’
I knew exactly where I wanted his hand, but I had no idea how to phrase it. Oh God, would pussy make his cock throb, or something else? I couldn’t bring myself to say the ‘C’ word. I knew it wouldn’t physically leave my mouth without a great deal of eye rolling, blushing, and unnecessary shame. What about something else? Beaver? Snatch? No, they had to be the most unsexy words ever.
‘Say it. Where do you want to be touched?’ he asked, slowly tracing his fingers down my stomach, lower and lower. I remembered a bad meme from my Facebook feed, something to do with a penis flytrap. No. Don’t say that. That would definitely kill the mood.
‘You know where.’
‘I want to hear you say dirty words.’
I closed my eyes. ‘My pussy. Touch my pussy.’ A low growl of desire told me my choice of dirty words had hit the sexual jackpot.
‘This is about you tonight. Don’t be afraid to tell me what you need,’ he said, skimming his hand down the side of my body as he stood behind me. I didn’t know how to answer him. I just wanted to feel the moment, the heavy touches and the heat of our bodies. I wanted the sensations to wash over me, cleansing the jumbled mess of anxiety that had previously made me avoid all male contact.
Luke’s hot mouth was on my neck, and I could feel the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed hard and stilled. When I looked up, daring myself to meet his eyes, we were both facing a large mirror propped up on the floor. Our eyes met in the reflection. I watched as his hand reached down towards my throbbing pussy. I could see how wet I was, and I could tell by the look in his eyes just what this discovery did to him. ‘Fuck, your body, Elle. You want me, don’t you? Tell me you want me.’
I placed my ha
nd on top of his and started to move it. Backwards and forwards. Up and down. Giving him no doubt that I wanted more. Our hands moved together over my clit. I couldn’t help but arch the curve of my body backwards into his chest. I had no control over it. As he worked his hand faster, I could feel the heat start to gather as my orgasm gathered momentum. I tensed as Luke pushed his finger inside me.
‘Relax. I don’t want to hurt you,’ he whispered. Instinctively, I reached my arm over my head and held on to the back of his neck as we rocked my body into the stirrings of an orgasm.
I had never felt anything so intense in my life.
I watched in the mirror as his hand moved furiously. His fingers started to pull on my nipples and I cried out as my orgasm crashed through my body. His demanding stare didn’t stop as I came down from my high. He held me, kissing my neck and kneading my breast with his hand, capturing my nipple between his fingers before stepping back from me. He gave me a self-satisfied smile and the cocky, smug grin I still wasn’t sure I liked, but it turned me on further. It shouldn’t have done, but holy hot cakes it did.
I viewed myself in the mirror. The same girl, yet different.
I had just experienced the most erotic moment of my life so far.
Chapter Twelve
In the course of an evening, I’d turned into a walking, talking, throbbing, aching sex hormone. It had been less than four minutes and already I wanted his fingers cupping my pussy again. I felt a mix of emotions about my first sexual experience. Tonight had been amazing, magical, and intense, but I couldn’t shake the lingering disappointment that Luke hadn’t tried to take things further, or even initiate his own orgasm. I pulled my hair back into an easy, messy ponytail, as that appeared to be the only way to tame my post orgasm hair.
Attempting to walk down the stairs was comical. My legs were wobbly and numb. I smiled as I pictured the scene where Bambi walked for the first time. Holding on to the handrail to stop myself from falling over, I congratulated myself on completing the task without breaking my neck. I found Luke in the kitchen mixing a bowl of salad. The pizza, however, looked depressingly burnt around the edges.
‘I’ve managed to ruin our meal. We must have been preoccupied with something else. Can’t think what.’
Damn, that cocky smirk had reappeared.
‘Can I ask you something?’ I said as I dropped my eyes to his unfastened belt; a stark reminder that although he had just given me a flesh trembling, sole burning orgasm, he had not managed to shirk off any of his clothing below the waist. He nodded his head in encouragement for me to carry on. ‘The plastic garden chair in your room; what’s the story with that?’
‘I’m not sure I’m ready to talk about that. I’ve been sworn to secrecy. I promised my mate Martin I wouldn’t discuss it with anyone after I woke up and found him sitting up asleep in it. He was fully dressed with a cold kebab nestled on his lap.’ He curved his hand around my waist to gently push me out of the way of the fridge. ‘Let’s just say it involved a bucket of beer, a frighteningly early morning, and an illegal act.’
‘You stole it from someone’s garden, didn’t you?’ I smiled slowly and shook my head at his typically drunk man-boy behaviour.
‘Technically, I borrowed it. I just can’t remember which garden I got it from.’
‘Does Martin always lead you astray?’
‘I lead myself astray,’ he announced as he bent down to swat my bum with the palm of his hand. The moment his hand touched me, it propelled me back to his bedroom, standing naked in front of the mirror watching his hand glide against my sensitive skin. ‘You OK?’ he asked, watching me in concern.
‘Didn’t you want one?’
‘Sorry?’
‘Didn’t you want an orgasm?’ I repeated, slightly louder. He walked past me without answering, taking the plates and the salad bowl into the living room.
‘Sit,’ he said, motioning his head towards the table and chairs. Disappearing into the kitchen, he returned with the pizza. ‘You don’t have to eat it. I know it doesn’t look that great.’
‘You haven’t answered my question.’ Finally, he looked at me, amusement coursed across his face.
‘Yes, I wanted an orgasm.’
His answer pleased me but I was still perplexed as to why we were downstairs sitting far apart from each other eating burnt pizza rather than continuing our evening in the scant surroundings of his bedroom. ‘Then why didn’t you?’
‘I told you that tonight was about you. We need to take things slowly. I don’t want to scare you away.’
I instinctively pursed my lips at his reply. He made sense. I couldn’t help but sarcastically marvel at his amazingly steely self-control.
‘Elle, did you see my reaction, how hard you made me?’ I smiled as his words reignited my arousal. Nodding briskly, I looked to the floor.
‘Look at me,’ he demanded. I raised my eyes and met his stare. ‘I wanted to fuck you so hard I couldn’t think about anything else, but if I’d acted on that, I would have scared you away. Now eat.’
Oh God, his mouth. The delicious things he could do with it. The filthy things he said.
After we’d finished the meal and Luke had finished the bottle of wine, we sat at the table chatting and making each other laugh for the rest of the evening. His wickedly dry sense of humour connected with my sarcasm, forming a formidable double act. I could listen to him talk for hours. In fact, I did. It was 1 a.m. before I even noticed the clock. ‘I didn’t realise the time. I should go.’
‘You could stay, you know. I want you to.’ I felt his lips press onto my neck as he teased the delectable patch of nerves with a lick of his tongue.
‘I can’t. I need to go home,’ I sighed, trying to convince myself.
‘Your parents will worry?’ he asked between fluttery kisses. I had told him earlier in the evening that I still lived at home with my parents. He didn’t seem fazed by this, and I didn’t dwell on it. We moved on before I started babbling excuses about how hard it was to get your foot on the property ladder, gently sidestepping the fact that I didn’t even want to step on the bottom rung.
‘Mum will be waiting for me when I get back, probably holding a clipboard with a checklist of what she wants to ask me about tonight,’ I said, causing him to laugh as he wrapped his arms around my waist. ‘She is desperate for me to lose my virginity.’ He stroked the loose tendrils of hair that had fallen out of my ponytail, kissing me on the lips as he cupped my face.
‘Maybe next time you will.’
Chapter Thirteen
I knew one thing for certain about social work: gossip could travel faster than a speeding train. What I didn’t know for certain was why I happened to be at the centre of the gossip. You know the saying today’s news is tomorrow’s fish and chip paper? Well, today I was preparing to wrap the fish.
I had been reliably informed that social workers young and old were chitchatting about my relationship with Luke as they made their morning coffees and ate their sandwiches over lunch. It was unnerving how much attention was forming around us when we had only been on six dates. The usual topics of last night’s episode of the must see TV show or the latest wannabe to leave the X Factor dissected by colleagues leaning against the water cooler had been replaced with whispers and hearsay about me. This became strikingly apparent at a staff seminar held in the Council House. We had all dutifully traipsed across the city to sit through a dull PowerPoint presentation, knowing before it even started that it would be three hours of our lives we would never be able to get back.
‘What’s the point to all this? I’ve got a Section 47 report to write up and a bagel in the fridge with my name on it,’ Abi protested as we stood on the staircase waiting to go in.
‘Quit complaining. Look at it as a challenge to see how long we can keep our eyes open for,’ Kate said sarcastically.
‘Oh fuck. Boyfriend at ten o’clock,’ Abi muttered before turning her back.
‘Hey ladies. Elle. How are you?’ Luke a
sked as a group of men and women trailed behind him in succession. Their eyes darted backwards and forwards between us, and whispers were exchanged by the Luke groupies waiting for his next move.
‘If it isn’t the Pied Piper of social work,’ Abi said rolling her eyes. ‘Or are they your disciples?’
‘Abi, nice to see you haven’t lost your sparkling sense of humour,’ he replied without a trace of politeness.
I nodded my head over his shoulder in acknowledgment to the crowd of people standing behind him. ‘Colleagues,’ he simply said, offering no more explanation. No names or introductions. No, ‘Hey, this is my super awesome girlfriend. Isn’t she gorgeous?’ Not even a proud shoulder squeeze or attempt to hold my hand. We stood in awkward silence as I tried to dismiss the tension and discomfort that was rising up the bumps of my spine.
‘Isn’t this nice?’ Abi said looking between Luke, his groupies, and me. Her eyes finally settled on mine as she searched to read my expression. I offered nothing except a fake grin. I shrugged and fixed my eyes on the doors in front of us, praying that the magical powers I had always believed lay dormant inside of me would suddenly roll into action, opening them wide to let us escape this silent torture in full Harry Potter style.
‘Is something wrong?’ Luke asked, finally taking my hand.
‘I hate waiting. We’re all busy. We’ve all got stuff to do,’ I muttered nervously.
‘Let me introduce you to Martin while we’re waiting.’ He called over a guy dressed in a pair of blue chinos and a striped navy shirt. So this was plastic chair Martin. He nodded at Luke before turning his eyes to me, taking in my body with one lazy dip of his head. Creep. ‘Martin, this is Elle, my…erm…girlfriend. Elle, Martin’s a good friend of mine,’ he said, stuttering over the important bit, which caused my eye to twitch. He held out his hand.
Let Me Be Your First (Music and Letters #1) Page 9
