Root (Band Nerd Book 2)

by Danica Avet

  He kisses me again, long and hard, before pulling away and reaching for the box of condoms. His hands shake as he tears a foil off the roll, tossing it aside. My heart pounds with nerves and anticipation as I watch him open the pack and start rolling the latex over his erection.

  Oh god, we’re really doing this!

  Is it weird that watching his hand move over his penis, his long fingers smoothing the condom in place, is almost as hot as what he did to me earlier? Because it is. I can feel how wet I am and we haven’t even done any foreplay, although I really didn’t need it considering I’m still well-lubricated from my orgasm.

  He looks up at me through the hair that’s fallen into his eyes, pinning me in place as he guides himself to me. “I don’t care who you’ve been with before,” he says as the crown of his shaft kisses the entrance of my body. I frown at his words, but he continues. “I only care that you’re with me now.”

  “What—?” I start to ask, but my question is cut off as he presses inside.

  Remember me thinking my eyes were bulging out of my head earlier? Well now I know they are. Holy fucking shit—lord forgive my potty mouth—but he’s big. Like huge. Imagine stuffing a zucchini in a garden hose, that’s about what it feels like as he breaches me.

  The head finally sort of pops inside of me and he fits another inch before I make a sound that’s a cross between a moan and a shriek.

  “Eep!”

  He stops moving, sweat rolling down the sides of his face. “Lena?” he chokes, his chest heaving, the light hairs brushing my nipples in a really interesting way. Interesting if he wasn’t trying to shove something the size of a baseball bat into my vagina, that is. “You okay?”

  I shake my head, fingernails digging into his arms. “Slow,” I pant. “G-Go very, very slow.” Because even though it’s uncomfortable, I don’t want to stop.

  “I’m hurting you,” he says in a soft voice that’s full of self-loathing. “Fuck.”

  He goes to pull away and the drag of his penis leaving me makes my eyes roll. My legs clamp around his hips, holding him in place before he loses all the space he just made. “NO!”

  His forehead falls to my chest, his hot, choppy breaths bathing my boobs. It feels… Okay, that feels good. My nipples are uber sensitive and every movement makes them tingle. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispers, big, strong body shuddering. “Never want to hurt you.”

  Now that the imminent danger of my vagina being split in half has subsided for the moment, I relax my tight grip on his arms and stroke my hands over his skin. “I want you,” I confess. “I want you so much, Anders. We just have to take it slow.”

  He doesn’t look up at me. Instead, he feathers a soft kiss over my breastbone. “Was your last boyfriend as big as me?” he asks in a voice that’s full of trepidation.

  Not sure I want to really sit here and talk about my non-existent sex life while Anders’ massive penis is lodged in my vagina, but this is the second time he’s said something about a previous boyfriend.

  “You’re my first boyfriend,” I finally say, my fingers drawing aimless designs on his broad shoulders.

  His head pops up, the movement jarring our bodies. He sinks inside me another fraction of an inch, but the small shift makes things stretch and flex. Ooooh. Okay, that… Wow.

  Not that my boyfriend seems to notice that my vagina is finally getting with the let’s-have-sex program. He’s staring at me, blue eyes wide. “But you have condoms…”

  Annnd, there goes the blushing thing again. “Well yeah, for my vibrators,” I shoot back, trying to pretend that we’re not intimately connected. “I told you that.”

  His expression is similar to the ones he wore when he couldn’t talk to me back at the beginning of our relationship: dumbfounded. His Adam’s apple bobs in his thick throat a couple of times and I swear it feels as though his penis got harder or something.

  “Vibrators?” he asks on a whisper.

  I fling my arm over my eyes so I don’t have to look at him. This is so embarrassing! “Yes, okay? I’m a healthy red-blooded girl who has urges, okay? I have… I have a couple of toys and I use the condoms to help with cleanup. Just like I told you.”

  “You’ve never been with a guy before?”

  I drop my arm and glare at him, really starting to get pissed off. “No!”

  That gleam is in his eyes. The one that shouts of possessiveness and sexy times. Then I lose sight of them because he’s kissing me again. Huh. Who knew Anders’ kisses could cure anger?

  Anders

  Every instinct I have is telling me to thrust and thrust until I’m so far embedded in Lena’s body, she’ll never be able to run away. Either because she’s addicted to my dick, or because I left her bowl-legged. Either way would work, but I wasn’t just telling her I didn’t want to hurt her to make her happy. I really don’t want to hurt her, something I’d already started doing as soon as I joined my body with hers.

  To that end, concentrate on anything but the sensation of her pussy wrapped around the head of my cock like a vise. The tingling at the base of my spine, the tightening of my balls, makes that a little more difficult than I thought it would be, but even in my body’s almost desperate need to be lodged so far inside her I’m knocking on her tonsils, I don’t want to hurt her.

  Kissing her is never a chore, it’s like a fucking necessity and I give it my all, twining my tongue with hers until she makes a soft humming sound in the back of her throat, her body going lax beneath me. I slide in another inch and even though my eyes are closed they roll until I swear I see the inside of my skull. Tight. Holy fuck, she’s tight. And wet.

  I want to touch her all over, saturate my nerve endings with the satiny perfection of her skin. My brain went bye-bye the minute I wedged my cock into her pussy, but my hands apparently don’t need direction, just desire, one of them finding her breast, drawn to it like a magnet. Her nipple’s a tight point seeking my attention, which I give with gentle tugs and pinches that soon have Lena moaning into my mouth.

  “Anders,” she sighs as her body softens even more, allowing me deeper inside.

  Just as she suggested, going slow works because soon, although not that soon, I’m buried in her pussy to the hilt. Feeling every inch of her tightness wrapped around my dick is enough to have me drag my mouth from hers to throw back my head. I’m going to come. I’m going to come so fucking hard, I might blow out the end of the condom.

  Lena’s hands stroke my shoulders, arms, and chest, her short fingernails leaving little trails of fire behind that make it even harder to control myself. “Anders,” she whines, her body squirming under me, making me rock inside her. “Oh god. Move!”

  It feels as though the top of my head is going to just pop off with all the blood pounding through my veins, but that fear of hurting her holds me still. “No,” I grit out, one hand clutching the sheets, the other gripping her tit. “Gotta wait.” And I swear to god, I’ll wait as long as I can to make sure she doesn’t feel any discomfort.

  But Lena has other ideas. She flattens her feet on the bed and starts fucking me from the bottom. Not a lot, since I pretty much have her pinned down, but she undulates her hips in slow rolls that slides my dick along her channel. My toes curl as she works herself on me, her low keening moan an aphrodisiac.

  Tentatively, carefully, I thrust into her, countering her sexy little movements, and it’s like nothing I could’ve ever imagined. I do it again, a little harder. A jolt of white-hot pleasure shoots up my spine as my balls slap against her curvy ass. We both moan at the contact, at the way my dick slides along her sleek walls.

  “More,” she whispers against my mouth before she bites me on the chin.

  Not hard, just a little nip of her teeth, but it unleashes something in me, something I’ve tried hard to hold back ever since I realized I was bigger than most of the people around me. I fuck her. It isn’t gentle anymore. I can’t be gentle, not with her fingernails scratching down my back before digging int
o my ass. I can’t be tender, not with her sweet voice whispering for me to move, her breath against my neck, her teeth raking over my pulse.

  The bed screeches as I fuck her, an additional instrument in the symphony of our bodies meeting, our moans and groans. Then I can’t hear anything at all as the blood roars through my veins, the tingling at the base of my spine growing and growing until it encompasses all. I come with a shout, my dick spurting into the condom, the hard pulses draining me of every thought.

  My body shudders as I give her everything I have, my hips jerking. Slumping over her, I can’t do anything. I can’t feel anything. I just am.

  Lena

  “Anders?” I ask after he goes still. This can’t be it.

  But he doesn’t respond to me calling his name, although his body continues shuddering. I know he came. We fit tightly enough together I felt every pulse of him emptying into the condom, but what about me?

  I don’t understand. Every book I’ve read, every porn I’ve watched, the girl always comes with the hero, or at the very least, comes. Always. And yet, while I’m so close I could almost taste it, he isn’t moving anymore. In fact, he’s going soft.

  My brain’s so buzzed with endorphins and the disappointment that every book I’ve ever read has been a lie, it takes a while for that last thought to take hold. My mind though, keeps circling back to there being a problem with him going soft, other than the obvious, of course. Like not getting my orgasm!

  Then it hits me like a ton of bricks, or rather like a six-foot-eight football player who came without making sure I did. He needs to get the hell out of me before the condom slips off and I end up with a gigantic baby with blue eyes and a head the size of a watermelon.

  “Anders, get up!” I tell him with a slap to his shoulder.

  He doesn’t budge, but he does mumble something that I’m sure is sweet.

  “You have to get up,” I demand with another slap to his shoulder.

  The boy is down for the count and all I can picture is what would happen if I got pregnant because the condom leaked semen inside me. Like, Anders is big. I’m big. Our child would be Andre the Giant sized. It’d probably come out the size of a six-year-old or something.

  Fear for my vagina, for my sanity, and anger at all the liars who make sex seem like it’s so effortless, plus a good dose of panic is a magical thing. I’ve heard of people who lift cars when their adrenaline is flowing. Well, that’s pretty much what happens to me. Except the boost of natural chemicals gives me just enough strength to roll my behemoth of a boyfriend off of me. Okay, it wasn’t just a roll, it was more like a hefty shove with a little help from my tuba-player legs.

  But the end result is the same as Anders slips out of me and right off the bed with a thump that I’m pretty sure shifts the foundation of the building. It had to have registered on the Richter scale and I wince. While I’m not happy about the orgasm, or lack thereof, I don’t want to hurt him.

  “Wha-?” he mumbles.

  Rolling in the same direction, after I struggle to close my legs which seem to have been permanently unhinged by sex, I peer over the side of my bed to see him sprawled on his back, frowning at the ceiling. Those pretty blue eyes go from the cracks in the plaster to me.

  “What happened?”

  It takes some doing. Muscles I didn’t know existed protest with every shift of my body, but I manage to climb out of bed, my sheet wrapped around me for modesty’s sake.

  “Well, we had sex,” I say as I stare at him. I’m just so disappointed, but it isn’t his fault. Right? “You came. I didn’t and I really, really wanted to. Then you almost lost the condom in my vagina which would have been bad.” He just blinks at me, looking thoroughly relaxed, confused, and sleepy. I sigh. “You need to get rid of the condom, Anders.”

  His gaze goes from me to his groin where his penis looks like an anaconda shedding its skin. He blinks once. Twice. Then jackknifes to a sitting position, wincing. “Fuck, why am I so sore?”

  “Sex works out your lower abdominal muscles and back,” I recite, having read that somewhere. “You can have a shower after I take a long soak.”

  I used to complain about my thighs rubbing together. No thigh gap for me. But I think I’d take it all back if I was able to move with some grace and not like a cowboy who just got off of a horse. It totally ruins your exit when you do your best John Wayne impression on your way to the bathroom.

  Anders though, recovers a lot faster than I thought he would because I manage to hobble four steps before he’s up and scooping me into his arms. He carries me to the bathroom and sits me on the edge of the tub.

  “Do you have some Epsom salt?” he asks, as he turns the hot water tap on. I glance down at his groin to see the condom is gone, his penis glossy and still a lot bigger than it should be. He follows my gaze and turns red. “I got rid of it in the other room. Do you have any Epsom salt?”

  “Under the sink,” I mumble, eyeing his penis like the snake I compared it to earlier. So fascinating! He gets it out, his motions almost angry as he pours a good bit into the slowly filling tub. “What’s wrong?”

  The bag of salts fall to the ground and before I know it, I have a naked man wrapped around me, his head nestled under my breasts. “I’m sorry,” Anders whispers into my cotton-covered stomach. “I wanted it to be good for you, wanted to take it slowly so I didn’t hurt you, and I still fucked it up.”

  Staring down at him, the broad, beefy shoulders that still bore the marks from my fingernails, all I could do was run my fingers through his hair. His remorse is real. Am I still a little upset I didn’t get my orgasm? Well yeah, it isn’t exactly comfortable to get so worked up with no reward but, on the other hand, I’d enjoyed having sex with him. Do my legs feel as though they’ll never resume their natural state? Yes, but it’s just a reminder that I held this beautiful man’s body close to mine, inside mine. It was still a wonderful experience, one I hope to do over and over again, hopefully with a better outcome for both of us.

  Gently cupping his face in my hands, I guide his lips to mine and kiss him. Just a little peck that ends as quickly as it begins. His eyes are so blue, his embarrassment warring with residual enjoyment of our time together.

  I couldn’t help but kiss him again, lingering only a moment before pulling away and whispering, “They say practice makes perfect.”

  Oh yes, it certainly does and his shy smile tells me I’m going to get lots and lots of practice. Yay!

  Lena

  Two weeks later

  I’m a nervous wreck as I rush to shower after practice. Tonight’s the night Anders and I can finally resume sexy times. As I stand under the water to wash away the sweat and funk, I can’t help but roll my eyes. Go figure that as soon as we become intimate, start learning how to please each other, Mother Nature makes her wicked appearance. It seriously pisses me off too because Anders seemed determined to make up for our less than stellar first time together.

  What he can do with his tongue should be illegal. I shiver in memory, my sex flexing with want. Oh yes, those first few days after That Night were heavy on the foreplay. I don’t orgasm every time we go all the way, but he sure makes me come before or after. It’s like it’s his goal to have me screaming his name at least once a night. Then Aunt Flo showed up and brought an abrupt end to the fun.

  I dip under the water to rinse away the soap, smothering a chuckle. The look on Anders’ face when I had to admit that we would not be having sex due to my period still makes me laugh. He’d looked dumbfounded and lost. Like he just learned there was no Santa Claus. But, to my surprise, he didn’t treat me like I had the plague either.

  Turning off the water, I step out and begin drying off, trying to ignore how sensitive my skin is. Even though we couldn’t have sex, Anders stuck by my side. I’ve heard, and read, horror stories about some guys who avoid their girlfriends when they were on their periods. Anders cuddled me, bought me chocolate, and rubbed my back. And despite my condition, I have to admit he
turned me on big time. Hence the sensitivity today. Or maybe that’s just plain old horniness. Five days without anything more than hugs and kisses from him has been enough to leave me aching for more.

  He drives me crazy in the best way. I never thought, not for a single moment, that I’d meet someone like Anders. Part of me keeps expecting everything to go wrong because he’s just that wonderful. Like a dream I never want to end. Then I see him again and I have to pinch myself to make sure this is real. And it is. He’s real and he’s mine.

  I dress in my usual shorts and baggy T-shirt. Probably the best thing about Anders is he likes me no matter what. I’ve started dressing a little nicer, not like going all out in heels and stuff, just wearing clothes that fit a little more. What can I say? I love the way his eyes light up when he sees me in tight jeans or a tighter shirt, but when we’re at my apartment, he really seems to like my shorts. Probably because they give him easy access to my panties.

  I grin, tempted to go commando. That would shock him for sure. But I just can’t do it, even in the privacy of my apartment. Despite all the heavy make out sessions, the intimacy we’ve shared, I can’t seem to let go of my inhibitions completely. Oh sure, once we’re in the moment, I don’t care if anything jiggles, but before or after? I feel myself blush and step out of my bathroom. One day I’m sure I’ll feel confident enough to parade around without panties, but that day is not today.

  My apartment is sort of clean, but I still hurry to pick up the few odds and ends lying around. My books I toss into the corner. I should study for my Math 101 test. I just know as soon as Anders gets here tonight, studying will be the last thing on my mind. Besides, he’s been tutoring me. My man has brains and it’s sexy as hell.

  A glance at the clock shows I have at least thirty minutes before his practice ends. I shoot him a quick text, grinning like a maniac all the while, then set myself to the task of making something that I can throw in the oven for a few hours. Anders has insisted on helping with groceries since he’s here every night, which means I have actual food in the freezer. Figuring a meatloaf would work, I start mixing the ground beef and trying not to get myself too worked up over thoughts of what tonight will bring, even though I know I’ll fail miserably. Knowing I’m just an hour or so away from being with Anders again ramps up my arousal to a fever pitch. It’s going to be the longest hour ever.