First Time: Penny's Story (First Time (Penny) Book 1)

by Abigail Barnette

  We wrestled the fluffy, down-filled duvet from his bed into the elevator then rode up to the roof. The second the glass doors opened, I realized I was an idiot. It was way too freaking cold, and the weather, which had looked charming through the window, now had sinister intentions toward us. The snow wasn’t drifting softly down like in a Christmas movie, but blustering sideways and scattering flakes all over the lovely covered seating area.

  The furniture wore snuggly waterproof coats of its own. Ian leaned down to unzip the cover over the chaise longue. “This is insane.”

  I totally agreed. So, when the cushions of the chaise were clear, I belly flopped onto them, mummified in the duvet.

  “Could I get in there?” Ian asked, pulling on a corner of the blanket.

  I reluctantly gave up my sarcophagus of warmth to let him in. “It’s way colder than I expected.”

  He leaned against the chaise’s slanted back and helped me settle in, my legs between his, my head low on his chest. “I do think I mentioned the cold once or twice,” he reminded me, playing with my hair.

  I could lie on Ian like this for hours, or at least until his legs fell asleep and then he limped around dramatically to get the feeling back into them. Ian and I fit together, and the addition of his body made any couch or chair or bed ten times more comfortable than the factory standard.

  “It’ll get warm here soon,” I said, pulling the duvet tighter around my shoulders.

  “For you.” He waved his arms up and down to demonstrate how not-covered they were by the blanket. “I’m basically just wearing fluffy down trousers.”

  “Ooh, I didn’t think about that.” I tapped a fingernail against my front teeth as I considered our problem. I’d been looking forward to cuddling, as well as getting dirty, but he was right; he would freeze to death out here in just his shirt. I would have to speed things along. “You know what? I can just pull the blanket over my head—”

  I didn’t wait for an answer before wriggling down farther on the chaise and pushing the duvet up to replace the space where my body had been. “There, that’s better, isn’t it?” I called up to him.

  “Not really, no.” His reply came through the thick, muffling layer of down.

  I opened his fly and slid my hand inside to grip him. “How about now?”

  I curled my fingers around his shaft. He was half-erect already, as if he’d been envisioning this exact same outcome. “Well, that is a little better, now that you mention it.”

  There was something almost meditative about lazily gliding his foreskin up and down. I didn’t have to think about anything except the measured pace of my hand and the way his chest rose and fell a little faster as I stroked him. I licked my lips and leaned closer, until I felt just the heat of his skin near my lips. I blew a long, soft breath across the tip of him. The vein along the underside of his shaft thrummed harder, which was thoroughly gratifying. I barely parted my lips to brush them against the head. His hips lifted up, and I laughed, my mouth still pressed to his cock.

  Before I’d met Ian, there had been no possibility that one day I would be so carefree about sex that sucking dick on a Brooklyn roof wouldn’t faze me. Sure, I wasn’t entirely unfazed, and I was hidden from view by the thickest, warmest blanket in New York, but with Ian, I could act on all sorts of impulses that were once sexually out of my league, and I never once got the impression he would judge me for it.

  I pulled his foreskin up to cover the head of his penis and ran my tongue all the way around, then pushed my tongue beneath that flexible skin. I’d read up on blow jobs online, and every website I’d looked at had suggested that particular move. They hadn’t misled me; I took him into my mouth and heard him exclaim, “Jesus!”

  Getting Ian to take the Lord’s name in vain as a curse word wasn’t that difficult in general conversation, but hearing him blaspheme during sex was somehow extra hot. Especially after church.

  Did that make me a church pervert or something?

  Rather than examine those implications, I took him into my mouth, all the way to the back of my throat, and triggered my gag reflex. Not enough to puke all over him—Sophie’s vividly worded shower-blow-job-emesis story came disgustingly to mind—but enough that he would hear it. The first time it had happened, it had been an accident, but he’d made the most delighted sound when he’d heard it; I hadn’t been able to help myself since. Plus, it made me drool a ridiculous amount, which he’d confessed to really enjoying, so I kept doing it.

  Another great tip I’d gotten from the websites I’d visited was to go slowly and change it up, so you wouldn’t hurt your neck. I took this good advice to heart, letting my hand do some of the work as I licked and sucked. I pressed my thighs together; the crotch of my panties was wet. I leaned on one elbow to tug them down halfway then let the natural shifting of positions wiggle me out of them altogether.

  It occurred to me I could get Ian off with my mouth; he would make sure I had an orgasm, whether we had intercourse or not. But I really wanted to fuck him. I debated this for a while, until I settled on jumping to a finishing move and letting him decide how to proceed.

  I rubbed my lips up and down the underside of his shaft. The little vertical ridge right beneath the head was super-sensitive, and if I kept concentrating on that, he would have to stop me soon. He fumbled a hand beneath the blanket to touch the top of my head. “Why don’t you come back up here before I embarrass myself?”

  “Why should you be embarrassed?” I asked, but I toed my panties from my ankle and came up for air. The cold was surprisingly tolerable; giving head under a blanket for an extended period of time got you all sweaty. “You always say that. Trust me, I would be so pleased to make you come too soon.”

  I knew I’d gotten close before. I would break him, eventually.

  “You’d be pleased? How would I fuck you?” He leaned up and steadied me with his hands on my ribs, just beneath my breasts, so I could straddle his lap. Then he got his shocked, blinky face on. It was one of my top five favorite Ian facial expressions. “You had panties on when we left the house, didn’t you?”

  What kind of pervert did he think I was? My jaw had just gotten too much of a workout to hang open the way it did. “Of course I did!”

  I rummaged behind me for physical evidence and presented him with my satiny pink underwear. They went from my hand straight to his nose.

  “Oh my god, that’s so gross!” It didn’t really bother me to see him sniff my panties; after all, he spent a lot of our time together with his face in my pussy. But I couldn’t help my reaction. I may not have been totally clueless about sex before, but knowing about something and experiencing it have much different levels of shock value. The way he savored the scent of me jarred me into realizing how sexy he found me, and I was still kind of timid when it came to my own perception of myself as a sexual person.

  “Not at all. You’re one of my favorite smells.” The low, serious tone of his voice made it clear that he was not joking, and I got a tingly thrill. I ground myself against the length of his erection. It would have been so easy to just shift and slide onto it.

  His breath hitched. “We have to go back inside for that. I didn’t come prepared.”

  Well, we’d better go inside then, I thought, and I was very proud of myself for how rational and even-headed it was.

  I wasn’t going to do that, if I could get Ian to go along with me, but I was impressed that I had enough non-horny brain cells to come up with a responsible solution.

  “Oh, just this once? Just for a little bit?” I begged. It wasn’t fair, I knew, to keep rubbing my pussy all over his cock as I asked, but my hips moved of their own volition. “Just to know what it feels like.”

  He made the pained face of a person who saw their future self doing something they should know better than to do. “Just as long as you’re aware that this could have potentially unintended consequences up to and including—”

  “I had health class, Ian.” I rolled my eyes at him.
We’d already done a risk analysis conversation about our sexual pasts. As for the likelihood of getting pregnant, the chances of that happening this one single time were like, ridiculous odds. Become-a-millionaire odds. Besides, “You could always just pull out.”

  “Well, here’s hoping,” he said, all the resolve he might have been able to muster leeching out of his voice.

  He lifted me up before I could even move, and I reached between us to position our parts. It took a little wriggle to get him inside, and I sat back, sliding myself onto him fully. We both groaned.

  Without the condom between us, I felt more of him. More heat, more texture, and definitely more stimulation as the ridges and veins rolled through me as I moved on him. I squeezed my eyes shut at the unbelievable difference. “Fuck condoms.”

  “Hey, they have their place. I’ve had some very good times that wouldn’t have been possible without them.”

  I was glad that he had, because he was passing a lot of that experience onto me. And obviously, if he hadn’t been responsible in the past, I wouldn’t want to have unprotected sex with him now. But I wasn’t an idiot; I liked this enough that I was going to call my gyno first thing in the morning and look into hormonal birth control. I laughed at how easily I’d come to that decision, when it had been at the back of my mind for the past month. “Shut up and let me feel this.”

  Everything I did got a reaction out of him, whether he realized it or not. When I clenched around him, he stopped breathing. When I rocked fast on him, he dug his fingers into my thighs. When I went too slowly, he lifted up impatiently beneath me, as if he were threatening to take matters into his own hands, or cock, as it were. And I guess I went a little too slowly for him, because he grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me down. The position restricted my movement and made good on that implied threat, that he would drive us both if I wouldn’t keep my hands on the wheel. He thrust into me fast as he held me captive in a dizzying kiss.

  My skirt bunched up between us and scratched my belly. The top felt suddenly too tight, and the underwire in my bra chafed my perspiring skin. “Get my zipper.”

  “You’ll freeze to death.” He bit my earlobe playfully.

  Shit, that was right. We were on a roof. And here I wanted to take my clothes off, when it was snowing all around us.

  Snow would be really good for cooling off. I gasped, “I don’t care. I’m burning up.”

  His hand fumbled at my back, then I heard the whiz of the zipper, and the dress became mercifully looser. I pulled it over my head and tossed it aside. A gust of wind caught it. Oh god, I hoped it wouldn’t blow away! Ian and I both stared at it until it came a stop on the floor, and I heaved an inward sigh of relief as I unfastened my front-closure bra. Ian watched me reveal myself as though I were about to unveil a finely restored painting or present him with a culinary masterpiece. Then he pulled the duvet around me and started to thrust again, and I pushed down on him at the same tempo.

  It felt better than before. It felt…well, extremely naughty, to be on the roof of a building, outside, in a city of millions of people, riding my fully clothed boyfriend while I was completely naked. It was even naughtier that I didn’t care and that I was actually getting off on the idea. In fact, I was going to make myself come, and I didn’t care a bit if anyone saw.

  I reached between us and slid my middle finger over my clit. His cock put pressure exactly where I needed it. “That!” I shouted, hoping he took it as a compliment when I slapped my other palm against his chest. “Don’t stop doing that!”

  I was going to come. Right there, on the rooftop, in an icy wind that hopefully would muffle the sound of my cries, I was going to come. I leaned back, my muscles stretching and tightening as his cock pressed mercilessly against my g-spot. Ian edged me along with shallow thrusts and sharp moans of his own. I was close. My pussy fluttered around him, ready to clench and squeeze and—

  With an agonized groan, he pulled out of me, still thrusting his cock between us. The full, slick length of him sawed over my clit for the space of a blink before the building pleasure exploded, sending shockwaves from the epicenter of my clit all the way to the tips of my fingers and toes. He grabbed my hips and kept me moving, extending the pleasure when I would have stopped. He jerked his shirt up, threw his head back, and groaned as he shot pearly ropes of semen over his stomach.

  I couldn’t hold myself up, anymore, and though I knew it was going to be a big, sticky mess, I flopped onto his chest anyway. “I know.” I laughed. “I thought about it, but I’m too tired to stay up.”

  He managed to pull his shirt and undershirt over his head without jostling me too much. If we stayed there much longer, I would fall asleep. I was never so comfortable as I was in his arms. I snuggled my face into his neck. “I can’t believe we just did that on the roof.”

  “We’re on the roof?”

  I gave him a playful push. “By the way, that feels really good. Can we do that all the time?”

  “If you don’t mind using an alternate method of birth control.”

  Well, obviously. I wanted to have Ian’s babies. I just wanted to have them later. “Okay, I’ll look into it. And as soon as I have something, we’re doing it this way every time.”

  “Can we change the venue to somewhere warmer next time?” he asked, and I remembered his earlier comment. He held his breath as I reached between our bodies to cup his balls.

  “See? They didn’t freeze off.”

  He slapped my butt, and I squealed. The temperature was swiftly becoming an issue, so we cleaned up with his shirt, grabbed my dress and panties, and hurried into the elevator. He snagged me into a cocoon of his body and the duvet, and I was powerless to do anything about it with my clothes folded over my arms.

  “Do we still have any of that ice cream from the other night?” I asked.

  “I think so.”

  I smiled at him and hit the button for the lowest level.

  It was so nice to be warm, or at least, warming up. Ice cream was a silly idea, considering the fact that we’d just been fucking in the Arctic Circle, but I needed something sweet.

  “Why is everything salted caramel all of a sudden?” Ian grumbled as he pulled the container from the freezer. “I just got used to everything being blueberry pomegranate acai.”

  “Brace yourself, peppermint is coming,” I warned him grimly. I’d been watching Game of Thrones in the hopes that I would understand his fascination with it. “Every October, like clockwork, pumpkin comes in. The day after Thanksgiving, everything is mint. Which is just about the most disgusting flavor I can think of.”

  “I rather like mint myself.” He peeled back the lid of the carton.

  “Oh, well, true love totally called off,” I teased as I went for the spoons. I rounded the end of the counter so I could face him from the other side.

  “Don’t you want to go sit down?” he asked, nodding toward the dining area.

  I shook my head. He hadn’t come in me, but there was definitely a moisture situation going on. “Uh, no. I really don’t feel like leaving a slime spot on your chairs.”

  “It’s not slime,” he said, almost sounding offended. “It’s proof that you just had an incredible time, and I’d like to think I have a little something to do with that.”

  “Oh, you had a lot to do with that.” I snatched the carton from him and took the first bite of ice cream. I moaned almost as loudly as I had when we were up on the roof. “You were so sexy today.”

  “I thought I looked like an undertaker,” he said, trying to block my spoon as I went for a second bite.

  “It wasn’t that. It was seeing you at church, how much you really believe in all of it. That was sexy.”

  “Why is that sexy?”

  “I don’t know.” I really didn’t. I knew a lot of things. But I couldn’t explain romantic attraction, even if I tried. I took another spoonful of ice cream. “Having faith in something makes you vulnerable. Vulnerability in a man is hot.”

&nbs
p; “Why does believing in something make a person vulnerable?” he asked with a slight frown.

  “Because if you believe in something, you can be let down.” Wow, I was a real ray of sunshine. “Like, okay, look at me and Brad. I thought we were really going to be together forever. I believed that would happen. And when it ended, I was destroyed. I made myself vulnerable to that hurt through my faith that everything would turn out all right.”

  Ugh, did Brad have to come up all the time? Still?

  “But you just told me, not a full two hours ago, that you believe we’ll turn out all right,” he reminded me.

  And he had a point. “Yeah, but we’ve had signs. The fortune cookies. They never lie.” I paused, my brows and lips scrunching at the same time. “I supposed believing in superstitions is a form of faith. Maybe I really am setting myself up for disappointment down the road.”

  “Never, not with me,” he reassured me. Like making that promise was so simple, he didn’t even have to think about it. He scooped up a spoonful of ice cream, swallowed it, and said, “All humans are vulnerable, emotionally. We pretend we have control over it, but we truly don’t.”

  It was so simple and weirdly defeatist, but in the most positive way possible. I laughed. “Well, let me believe, okay?”

  Because looking into his eyes, I couldn’t summon up a single doubt.

  * * * *

  “Ian Pratchett. Leave a message.”

  I groaned at Ian’s voicemail message. When the tone sounded, I forced my voice to be chipper. “Hey there. I guess we’re fated to keep missing each other. I’m going to bed early tonight. Just give me a call tomorrow. Love you.”

  “Missed connections day?” Rosa asked, slipping on her boots. She had a work party tonight. Everyone had work stuff going on, it seemed.

  I sighed. “Yup. How pathetic am I? Be brutally honest?”

  “Not pathetic,” Rosa said, with a sympathetic smile and not a trace of sarcasm in her tone. “You’re totally in love with him.”

  “I am,” I agreed. “I just wish I could get him on the phone.”