by Nicole Snow
“Stroke,” he growls, putting his hand over mine, guiding my fingers forward. His cock jerks as soon as my fingers hug his tender skin.
I can barely form a complete fist around it. My pussy goes slick from the challenge while I stroke him slowly, up and down, gliding across his length.
It's hard to fathom how he's going to fit inside me, but God willing, I'll take every feral inch.
“Nice and easy, little bird. Fuck, that's good,” he groans, letting his head roll back on his shoulders. “Now, put that shy tongue to work like you've always wanted.”
My lips part. I start with the tip, tasting him for the very first time. He's salt, earth, masculine to the core. Opening my mouth wide, I lower it onto his length, rolling his swollen head against my tongue.
“More,” Luke groans, positioning his hand on the back of my head.
He eases me lower in a slow, gentle bobbing motion. I listen for his commands and his pleasure. My tongue revisits the same places on his skin and his breath shortens. It's hot knowing I can choke a man with pleasure, whenever I push the right buttons.
He's so big, so strong, everything I want. I swear I'll bring him to his knees one day with this mouth, after I've memorized the things that electrify his nerves.
“Yeah, baby. Yeah!” he groans, over and over, just like a mantra, background music to my tongue working his cock. My confidence grows every second.
I'll need lots of practice to perfect my technique. At least I'm off to a good start, even if I can't get more than a few inches past my jaw without tearing up. He's so big it would hurt if I'm not careful.
There's a strange power to sucking him off, a risk that fans the flames building up inside me. A sick, dark part of me likes that he can hurt me.
Every time his hand pulls on my hair, I'm reassured he won't. He's in control, introducing my virgin mouth to new delights, teaching me how he wants to be pleased.
It's just like he said – we'll end up lovers, going all the way – or we'll be mortal enemies.
The yin and yang of possibility tastes divine against my tongue. I devour his pleasure, bobbing my lips faster now, each time he dips his head backward, his short dark hair spiking out in the shadows. The blue flames in his eyes are contained, raging inward, because they're pinched shut.
He's focusing on my heat wrapped around him, pulling him deeper into the undertow. I don't know what to expect if he blows in my mouth, but I'm ready to find out.
I can't wait to taste him at his fullest, his peak, his flood.
Can't wait for him to lose it, to make him seize. He'll give in, pouring himself into me, the same way I've surrendered to his tongue.
“Good, good, good, baby girl. Sweet fuck!” He's groaning, swearing every other stroke.
I try quickening my speed, but it's all new to me, and it isn't easy. I slow my strokes, focusing my tongue, digging into the spot under his cock's head that causes his entire body to tense.
Please come, Lucus Shaw. I need you.
Just when I'm expecting him to ride my tongue to release, I feel tension in my hair, a hand lifting my head away. “Enough.” His eyes are open, looking down, staring in judgment so fierce I blush.
“Was it good?” I whisper, terrified it wasn't.
“No. It was fucking incredible, Robbi. You'll get another crack at making me come down your throat soon enough, but we have more important business.” Pausing, he presses his hand against my cheek, holding my face so there's nowhere to look except his eyes. He lowers his lips to mine, painting them in a new brute heat with his kiss. “My cock can't handle keeping you a virgin a minute longer. Stand up, lay down, and spread your legs. I want that cherry, babe.”
I'm in a haze as I obey. Cool autumn air brushes against my pussy when my thighs shift open. He finishes shedding his pants and boxers before he joins me on the bed, naked and perfect. The bed is so small holding both of us, sinking under his weight. Perfect for bringing our bodies closer to sin.
He takes my mouth in his. Several kisses in, a slave to his tongue, I hear the condom's foil tearing again, this time all the way open.
My eyes flick down to the space between us. Massive cock in his hand, and he rolls the condom on skin tight. Rearing up, he taps the throbbing head against my leaking pussy, teasing me in long, delicate strokes like a painter testing his canvass.
“Please. Luke, please.” I think he wants me to beg. Whether that's true or not, it's happening, and my pussy is about to kill me with anticipation if he doesn't do something in the next thirty seconds.
“Look at me, Robbi. Need your eyes on mine when I stretch you open. It's a special night for both of us. You're kissing your virgin ass goodbye. I'm having the best fuck of my life.”
He's so sure. Confidence is sexy, they say. Must be true because my blood is boiling when he gazes at me again, his eyes narrowed, focused on the prize he's claiming.
His hand comes up, heavy and hot on my cheek. He's holding my face as his hips move forward, one thrust away from breaking the barrier between us. It's a good thing, too, because my whole body wants to thrash. The wait is torture.
“Please.” It leaves my mouth like a whimper.
“Love you, Robin. I always will.” It's the last words I hear as a virgin.
Luke's hips plow forward. One thrust, and he's in, shoving his thick cock into me. He doesn't stop until he's reached the hilt, his heavy balls resting on my ass, shifting my pussy to accommodate him along the way.
Holy shit. It's incredible. There's a soft, sharp ripping sensation when he's in, rooting his thickness deep inside me. Yes, it hurts, but the pleasure shadowing the pain is worth it, a promise of bliss in the stinging depths.
“Fuck me,” I say, wrapping my legs around him, urging him on.
His nostrils flare. The hand on my cheek moves down, gently to my throat, cradling me with a tender, awesome power. One more reminder we've chosen to be lovers, when we could be each other's total undoing.
I let him savor the moment for twenty seconds before I start moving my hips into his. The motion makes his eyes widen, drilling into mine.
We're fucking like real lovers now, finding our rhythm. Flesh tangled, breath pouring, sweat steaming from our pores.
A dozen more strokes, harder than the first, and the pain recedes with every thrust. New pleasure fills my veins, simmering my nerves. I'm digging my teeth into my bottom lip, ecstasy pooling around my womb, an inferno refusing to be contained for long.
Wrapping my arms around his broad neck, I use the extra leverage to fuck him back. Maybe it's too much, too soon, but I don't care. My pussy takes him better each time our hips collide.
Every thrust leads me deeper into a wild, primal mode I didn't know I had. When he rears up, lifts my legs, and throws them over his shoulder, giving his cock more depth and more sweet friction, I'm panting through clenched teeth.
“Oh, Luke!” I cry out, hands on his arms, fingernails cutting into his skin.
Oh, God. It's sex as it's meant to be: uninhibited, wild, exciting to the very end.
And my first end, my crescendo, comes with the bed quaking. He fucks me harder and faster, slamming his big cock into me, his balls clapping my ass in steady, rough beats.
I'm going over the edge, breathless and mouth open, lips frozen in a silent scream. Hot blood floods my extremities. My pussy tightens around his pistoning cock, clenches, and electrifies.
Luke never relents while I'm coming myself into the next universe. His thrusts power through it, coming harder all the time, especially when my pussy clings to him like a glove. It's sweet, rampant madness massaging my walls, bringing every inch of me off into the white hot yonder.
His thrusts only slow when I'm coming down, letting me catch my breath. Then he positions himself lower, pinning my thighs around him, before he slides one hand underneath my head to fist my hair.
“Wake the fuck up, beautiful. We're not finished yet,” he growls, pulling my blonde locks.
No, we're
not. My body knows when he starts to rut in harder, slower strokes, dragging his pubic bone against my clit. New delicious fire kindles in my depths, bringing my muscles back to attention, turning me into his willing virgin slave anew.
I want him to come.
I need him to come inside me.
Both my hands go to his face, raking my nails through his stubble, begging him with just my eyes while my third orgasm of the night is building stroke-by-stroke.
“Please, Luke. Please. I need to feel it.”
“You'll get it, and you'll fucking love it, babe.” He stops moving, adding one more round of torture to our loving. “Move like you want it. Show me how bad you've got it before I give it up.”
Whatever shyness and shame is left in me fades. I don't recognize myself anymore when I'm pinching him with every limb, folding myself around him to move my pussy against his cock, drawing his length in and out and over the moon.
Come for me, beautiful bastard, I think to myself. My teeth pinch together so tight I'm afraid they'll break. I'm struggling to hold back my latest release before he erupts inside me. Please. Fucking. Come.
He doesn't understand. It's no longer a want, but something I need.
I need it to know we're real.
I need it to know we'll always have this love.
I need it to know I'm making the right choice, running away with him tomorrow, leaving everything I've ever known for wherever he leads.
There's a flash of smirk on his face before he moves with me again. This time, there's nothing held back. His cock fucks into me with a crazy, bone jarring force I swear shakes the entire house.
My eyes roll back in my head, and there's no way I can hold back the inevitable for a second longer. The fireball in my belly bursts, spilling bright, orgasmic heat into me again, and his growl becomes a roar through the maelstrom.
“Robbi, fuck!”
Just in time. I'm smiling as his cock balloons, adding his heat to mine. He ruptures in thick, fiery jets I swear I can feel hurling out of him even through the condom.
My pussy convulses, sending shocks into every muscle, every extension of who I am.
Toes to fingertips to the edges of my soul.
Yes, it's ridiculous. Cheesy. Clichéd.
I'm the virgin girl responding like a violin's strings to a virtuoso's touch her very first time. Coming so sweetly, our bodies in tune, giving as much as they take. Making beautiful music I'll never forget for the rest of my life.
I don't care what anyone says. It's real, damn it, and I relish it all night as he bends me over, folds me around him, puts his mouth between my legs again and again.
It's just before dawn when we're finally spent. We've barely said a word all night, speaking with our flesh instead, lost to the world's depressing complexities in each other.
“Sleep for a few hours,” he tells me, shoving my hand off his cock when I move to make him hard again for round...round what? I've honestly lost track. “If we don't get out of here by six, like you said, there'll be hell to pay.”
He's right, as much as it makes me pout. I snuggle into his chest, using his scary falcon as a pillow, hand laid over the mysterious date stamped on his shoulder. “Goodnight, Luke. I know I'll have sweet dreams thanks to you.”
“Get used to it, little bird. If there's nightmares rolling around in your head after this, I haven't done my job.” His face moves into mine.
We kiss one more time. It's love, salt, and sugary sweetness. The kind of kiss that hurts every time you remember it as your last because it's so real, so honest, so fucking perfect.
If I'd known what was coming next, I would have kissed him again. Maybe the next one would've been a little less immaculate, and wouldn't weigh on my heart like a back breaking boulder tethered to the past.
There's a crash. Pounding. Screams.
I wake up in a cold sweat to an empty bed. Luke is already up, pulling on his boxers, stumbling to the door and stopping there with his fists flexed.
“Robin! What're you doing? Wake up, wake up! We have to leave now!” Mom's voice. She's pounding on my door again, slamming her fist into it like no tomorrow.
“I said back the fuck away, cheating whore! You're not taking her. You're not taking my little girl!”
My heart jumps into my throat. The other voice is dad, boiling with rage. I'm blindsided. I think it's the first time I've heard my parents together in months. Never like this.
“Luke...” I look at him, shirtless and beautiful as ever, not knowing what to say. “Let her in. They're going to find out.”
“You sure?” He lifts his eyebrows, a surprised look that would be sexy if he weren't standing there half-naked, just as confused as me at the commotion outside.
“Robbi, please! Hurry!” Mom again, giving the door another round of violent slaps.
“Just a second!” I yell back. I'm up, throwing off the covers, stepping into the closet for fresh clothes. He waits another minute while my parents turn on each other.
I can't make out the steady stream of curses, insults, and accusations. At first, I think my father's completely lost his mind.
He's drunk. There's no doubt with the way he's slurring his words. Nothing else explains why he'd be rampaging through the house, screaming at my mother, accusing her of high crimes and atrocities.
There's just enough time to get dressed. Luke throws on his outfit, and peeks out the window, looking toward his car. It's still there, untouched. If my parents have noticed I'm not alone in here, they haven't said anything. Hell, they haven't said anything about it through the screaming.
“Robin Marie Plomb! I said, open up! Now!” Mom again. More desperate than before. This time, when her fist hits the wood, it doesn't stop.
“Back off, bitch! You're scaring her! She doesn't need your damned help.” Dad again, roaring, closer as it sounds like he tries to grab her, and throws her against the wall.
The chaos doesn't stop until Luke stomps over, grabs the knob, and practically rips it off its hinges. Dad has her against the wall, digging his fingers angrily into her shoulders, just like I thought.
The early warning in my imagination does nothing to blunt the pain tearing through my heart. What the hell is happening here?
They've never had a screaming match, much less laid their hands on each other in anger.
My mother's red, tear streaked face eyeballs us in shock when she sees Luke standing there. It takes her huge eyes a couple seconds to look behind him, following the trail to me. Dad doesn't move, loosening his grip ever so slightly on her, just enough to let her drop, and pull herself away from his drunken hands.
“You.” It's all she says when she's free, before she fixes her eyes on me, and doesn't let them waver.
“Get your things together, Robbi. Pack some clothes. We're leaving right now. I'm taking you far, far away from this fucked up place.”
“Leaving? Why?” I'm stunned, confused, and frightened all at once.
She ignores Luke, pushing past him, sneering at me. “No more questions! There'll be time to explain everything later. We have to pack!”
She's serious. If flying into my closet and ripping shirts off their hooks is what she calls packing, anyway.
I'm too stunned to move, much less question yet again what the fuck is happening.
“Ericka!” Dad breaks his trance and comes staggering in, knocking a few things off my nightstand as he runs into it. “Cheating fuckin' bitch. I told you to leave her alone. You're not going anywhere.” His words are slurred. An empty whiskey bottle hangs limply from his hand. “Wha...what're you doing here?” he slurs, noticing Luke for the first time.
Mom never lets my man answer. “Danny, I'm not talking about this here, in front of her! For the last fucking time – get out! Leave us be, or I'm calling the cops.”
Ever the guardian, Luke moves between my parents and me. We watch the hot mess unfolding in front of us.
My parents in the closet, trading barbs, tangled in th
e clothing. One of my dresses covers dad's eyes as he stumbles through the chaos. He grabs onto the fabric, trying to prevent himself from toppling over. It doesn't help. He goes down on the floor slowly, and I wince, listening to fabric shearing apart.
“Look what you've done, you drunken idiot!” Mom shrieks.
I throw my fists up, just as Luke grabs me, wrapping his big arms around my waist. I start hitting him because he's the only one in sight. I don't care that he might be the only one here who makes sense.
“I'm not going anywhere until somebody explains what the fuck is going on!” It's my turn to scream. I pump my fists in the air, starting to shake. It would be worse if it weren't for the manly security blanket wrapped around me.
Mom kicks her way out of the closet, a fistful of my clothes slung over her shoulder, gripped in both hands. She stops in front of us. Dad is still stuck in the closet, wrestling with dresses, quietly cursing every variation of 'fuck Ericka' he can.
“Let go of that boy, Robbi, right this instant! I won't let you make my mistakes.”
What mistakes are those? My face cranes to see Luke as I twist in his arms. He's looking past me, into her eyes. They're sharing a look like they both know something terrible I don't.
“With all due respect, Mrs. Plomb, your daughter's an adult, and free to make up her own mind,” Luke tells her. “I think you ought to walk the fuck out of this house, and take the drunk with you. He needs help. It's going to take a lot of counseling to sort out your shit.”
Mom doesn't say a word. Her feet begin moving a second later. She walks up, stops in front of us, and reaches past me. Luke grunts when her hand lands on his cheek, so forcefully it echoes through the entire house like a gunshot.
“Release my daughter now, you spoiled, fucked up brat. This isn't your fight, and she's much too good for you. I never should've brought my family to this place. Never should've let my guard down for an instant. Never should've gotten involved with your disgusting rich father and his stupid, stupid promises!”
