Girl-Nerds Like it Harder (Erotic Romance) Book 1

by Rachel Dunning

  My lips parted, then I caught myself, closed my mouth and looked back at his eyes.

  “I love the way you smell,” he said.

  I squeezed again. Oh, darn it. I gave up trying to act cool. If we were gonna have sex, it might as well be fun. I tried my damnedest to think of something funny to say, I really did. Instead, all I ended up doing was sighing a heavy sigh that culminated in another expulsion of warm liquid in my nether regions, such that I dropped my head in defeat...and I grinned.

  My skin was flaming now.

  “Clayton Remington,” I said, looking down at his quilt, “you are making me nervous...and more than a little horny.” I had no defenses here. I’d given my virginity to this boy and he didn’t even know it. But I realized only now that I’d given it to him for only one reason: I actually really liked him.

  And all this time I thought I’d been ‘experimenting’...

  “Nerves are good,” he said. “They’re the cousins of arousal.”

  I heard him moving and before I knew it he was in front of me, standing, cock hard behind his boxers.

  I was so far out of my league here that the shivers I felt were part arousal, part scared-out-of-my-wits-shitless. Nonetheless, I saw my hand go over to his hardness, a mind of its own, and I rested my forehead just above his left thigh. Then I started rubbing him.

  But Clayton stepped back, and my head fell into nothing.

  “No,” he said, “tonight is about you only. I owe you.”

  “Hmm?” I sort of asked.

  He bent down and kissed me, a gentle, soothing kiss in which our lips met and his tongue eased itself into my mouth and then around my own tongue, licking the top of it, then the bottom, my teeth, around again. Slowly, masterfully, perfectly. He licked my upper lip, then my lower. He pushed his tongue into my mouth, then out, then in, slowly, hinting... It reminded me of earlier, and how his tongue had so expertly played with my other lips below, firing up the nerve endings inside me so as to almost make me come without even so much as a touch from him.

  “Why do I get the idea you know more about this than you let on?” I asked in between kisses. He pushed me back once more into a lying position.

  “Because I do,” he said, easing his body between my very open legs, only the quilt and his boxers between us.

  I wanted to tell him I was in over my head, that I’d made a mistake... But another part of me just wanted to experience this, wanted to experience something I’d never felt with anyone.

  He rubbed his cock against my middle and another surge of moisture broke out from me. Now it was also his quilt that would need a wash! He kissed me passionately and my eyes closed of their own will again. Damn stupid eyes that couldn’t stay open even if I wanted them to!

  “It’s romantic with the snow, isn’t it?” he said.

  Romantic? “Um, I guess...” But let’s not make this about romance, Clay. Let’s just do it. Because I don’t want to confuse any emotions with this, OK?

  “Clayton.”

  “Yes?” His voice was a slow murmur as he kissed me around the bottom of my neck, easing his tongue over and above my collar-bones, each time a little further into the collar of my tee, down to my breasts. And all the while, he rubbed me with his cock...

  “How many girls have you slept with?”

  For a fraction of a second, he paused, then he continued on my right collar-bone, his left hand now easing its way below the quilt and also under my shirt, up the side of my body. My breathing deepened, slowed, became heavier.

  “Is it important?”

  “Yes,” I breathed, “it’s important...”

  “Why?”

  Now his right hand also moved under my shirt, both of them circling my waist. Again I felt self-conscious at never having exercised, wondering if he’d frown at my complete lack of muscle tone. Some girls complain about picking up weight. I’ve always had the opposite problem. And, believe me, it’s a problem. Especially when people accuse you of having anorexia or bulimia simply because, for the life of you, you just cannot put on a pound!

  “It’s important,” I said, “because...” Because you haven’t got a fucking clue how insecure this whole thing is suddenly making me feel. “It’s important because I say it is. So just tell me, how many?”

  I pushed him away by his shoulders, holding him there while his hard-on stayed on me.

  He grinned, shrugged. “A few...” he said.

  He pushed down against my arms but this time I held him damn it! “How. Many?”

  Clayton sat back on his knees, ran his palm down his face, then muttered something into his hand that I couldn’t hear.

  “Huh?”

  He sighed, seeing he wasn’t going to get around this on. “One!” he finally said.

  “Wh—? Huh? Bullshit!”

  Clayton stared at me, regret clouding his face. “She was older. Much older. Very experienced. Um... She... Oh god, this is so fucking embarrassing...”

  “Don’t tell me she ‘taught you everything you know,’” I said.

  He let out an involuntary laugh, then went red as a beet. “Yes, that’s exactly what she did.”

  “So, you’ve only slept with one other girl? I mean, woman?”

  He nodded, as if this was something to be embarrassed about. “Hey, what are you smiling at?” he asked.

  I was smiling at the fact that I suddenly didn’t feel like such a dunce for having let this guy take my virginity. This guy who I’d thought was a total player and who was probably going to break my heart more than I was ready for it to be broken. (Because I knew he’d break my heart. Love always leads to a broken heart. I’d known that the second I’d admitted seeing that L.O.V.E. banner-ad in my mind.) I was willing for that to happen, to have my heart broken by him, because I wasn’t totally innocent here either with my stupid little experiment. But at least now I felt a little victory, like maybe we were both a little unsure of ourselves.

  At least that’s how I felt...until I asked him the next question: “So, how much did she ‘teach’ you?”

  Clayton looked down at me with the searing stare of a raptor aiming for plunder. Then one corner of his mouth broke into a dangerous smile. “Oh, Layla, she taught me...everything.”

  Then he moved in on me.

  -5-

  This time, he wasn’t slow.

  Before I knew it the quilt was on the other bed, flung away like so much paper. He widened my legs as far as they went, my knees pointing at the ceiling. Clayton bored his eyes onto my pussy and licked his lips. Then he swept down. When his mouth touched it I gasped, arched my back, propelled my pelvis into him. No, he wasn’t slow, not slow at all. He pushed and thrust with his mouth and tongue, kissed and rubbed...

  Oh god, the rubbing... That’s what did it. I was already there... His nose tickled my clit, then his lips, his tongue. “Oh god, I’m coming,” I said, “Clay, wait, wait, oh—”

  He licked me once, long and hard. Through clenched teeth I gave a throaty cry as waves of scorching rapture pummeled my middle, my butt, my stomach, my legs, up to my tits. Damn it, his hands were on those tits now while he kissed and licked me down below throughout my spasmodic contractions. I rammed my pelvis into him, rode his mouth like a bronco and he pushed himself into me until I opened my own mouth and screamed. I howled. “Oh God!” I cried out so loudly that I was fucking certain some professor was gonna walk in and find Clayton munching me like the horny kids we were! I clamped my hands to his head, let the billowing waves surge through me, through my vocal cords and taut muscles and clenching abs, while I kept him pressed firm against me.

  He never let go, never stopped. The orgasms just continued. I wasn’t even certain if the first one had ended or if this was simply a continuation of it. The screams became whimpers of unending pleasure. “Oh god oh god oh sweet fucking god what is happening to me this is so incredible oh Clayton lick me lick me lick me— Urgh!”

  The third time I came was quick. A sudden jolt of snapped tension and
then immediate relaxation, all at once, all over my body. I heaved out a sigh, Clayton kissed my pussy again, inside, outside, touching the overworked nerves on the walls of my vulva with the tip of his tongue. I ground my pelvis at him. I was lost. Lost at sea. Lost to what was happening except that I knew I had the most incredible wet sensation down below and something was working me even after all my muscles were completely drained.

  At the end of it all, Clayton got up.

  I knew this only because, where his mouth had been, was now cool air. I opened my lazy eyes and saw him, kneeling between my open legs, pushing his boxers down to reveal the most exquisite, pulsing, throbbing, veiny cock I have ever seen.

  I had one thought only: I want to lick you.

  So I did.

  I took him by surprise. I knew what he’d planned. He’d planned to fuck me. Right there. After he’d made me come he’d wanted to put his cock inside me and ride me to his own climax, maybe even squeeze another orgasm out of me.

  Oh, she taught me everything.

  His words played through my mind but I had no fear. This wasn’t about that other woman. This was about me. And him. In this room. Here. And, damn it, I’d solved my fucking software bug! This had shit to do with mechanics. This was lust. This was passion. This was human warmth. This was heat. Heat that fogged up the window and made our bodies drip with luscious desire for each other.

  I’d never given oral before. Never. But he didn’t need to know that.

  I buried him inside me. And I knew his moan had escaped him by surprise. “Oh sweet Layla Rudemeyer, you’re fucking incredible!”

  I pushed his hard-on all the way to the back of my throat, then grabbed his sac with my right hand. I massaged it, each ball, one by one. He moaned. “Mmmmmmm,” he said. Then I sucked, sucked his length so hard that my cheeks hollowed and his prick twitched and—

  “Stop, stop, oh wait, I’m coming—”

  I pumped him with my fist, then covered him with my lips again. He tried to pull away but I grabbed his ass with my left hand and pulled him into me. “Layla, please I’m gonna come!”

  I sped up, bobbing my head in and out and up and down, twisting and turning him with my right fist until—

  Huh!? I was on my back! He’d thrown me down to my shoulders! I stared up at Clayton’s contorted face, steadying himself on the wall next to him. His left hand was out to me, his cock pointing at the heavens and pulsing insanely. “Wait, wait, please oh please wait.” His cock was red, twitching, throbbing, slamming against his abs and back. But not coming yet... Pre-come and my saliva made it shimmer and glow in the orange light diffusing in from the outside.

  I smiled, a smile of victory. I was no longer afraid. This was no longer about him teaching me or me being the inexperienced virgin. This was about us. Because sex is about two people. I felt like an equal. I wanted him to come as hard as I had, as many times as I had. I wanted us to come together and shake and tremble in mutual satisfaction.

  In that moment, there was no tomorrow, no yesterday. Only now. I wanted this boy to fuck me all night, as many times as possible.

  As he held himself up there, breathing in deeply, willing himself with all he had, not to come, I slinked over to him, on my knees, in front of him.

  Unembarrassed, injected with a shot of unforeseen self-confidence, I took off my shirt, pressed my wet pussy against his fraught cock and my naked breasts against his chest. “Fuck me,” I whispered in his ear, then I licked his lobe. “Fuck me hard. Fuck me now and then fuck me again. And again. And again. I want you to fuck me all night until your hardware short circuits.”

  Clayton’s manhood pushed against my clit and made me almost come again myself as I stood there on my knees, his cock occasionally twitching precisely on my sweet spot. I kept trying to keep up this new level of bravado but my legs had already started to buckle. Clayton, on the other hand, was breathing slower now, back under control.

  His movement was quick. Before I knew it he was on top of me, guiding his cock inside me and then—

  Everything stopped. I heard nothing but our sweet breaths heaving together as Clayton filled me. Deep, penetrating breaths and grunts, mine and his, hard exhalations as he began to spear me, rhythmically, hard, then out again slowly, then hard inside me...

  I found my left hand move onto his spine, trickling a finger down it like it was all the touch I would ever need.

  Clayton fucked me. He lifted my legs by the knees and dangled them above his shoulders, pushing down against my chest as he did what I’d asked him to to do. The depth was so much that he hit my back wall and I yowled. He drove his shaft inside me so long and hard that my body began to shake. Then he put my legs down, eased his body back down onto me, put his hands by my ears and slammed me. “Umrghpf!” I groaned.

  He pulled out slowly. Slam!

  He pulled out again. Slam!

  My eyes began to roll, the ecstasy was too much...

  Then came the rhythm. Deep, driving rhythmic pulses of his shaft, his pubis rubbing against my clit for that perfect combination of...of—

  “Oh my god I’m coming. I’m going to come. Clayton, don’t stop. Fuck me, baby. Fuck me with all you got. FUCK ME!”

  “I’m also coming. Oh god. Oh...” He groaned, moved faster, faster, so fast in and out in out in out in out in in in in in hard! Deep!

  “Oh motherfucking holy shit urghhhh!” he cried, still plying me, still pumping his cock into me until every nerve ending inside me just yowled and howled from tensile pressure and all of it finally detonated and I absolutely shrieked in blissful ecstasy, wailing at such a high pitch that I fucking knew—this time for sure! —someone was finally gonna come barge in on us!

  While I came and while he came (and, boy, did he seem to come for ages...) he moved my legs up to his shoulders again, pumped me, moved them down, pumped me again. His face contorted and twisted, his eyes clamped shut from the excruciating joy I saw in him as he shot his seed inside me, holding himself deep within me, all the way, as if he if couldn’t get any deeper but tried anyway.

  He roared.

  Finally, he slowed.

  At the end, he buried his cock once more far inside me, then yanked me by the legs toward him, one powerful tug. I said nothing, let him have his pleasure. His head fell back as he squeezed out whatever last remnants of orgasm he had left in him.

  He wiped his forehead with the back of his forearm, and smiled, sweat dripping from his brow, beading on his temples. He looked down at me, at my breasts, the too-pale skin on my belly, my legs surrounding him. “Wow,” he said.

  A twinge of insecurity hit me. “Wow what?” I asked, feeling again highly self-conscious at my nudity.

  “I’m so glad I waited for the right girl to do this again. It was so worth it.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. The right girl? So I didn’t say anything. I just looked down at the join of his thigh to his waist, at his oblique muscles.

  I rolled my pelvis into him, slowly, not sure what else to do. He was still hard inside me. Not as hard as before, but hard nonetheless. I had no experience with this relationship business. And I had zero experience with this sex business, but I seemed to be better at the latter. So, before I felt even more self-aware of my nakedness, I said to him, “I asked you to fuck me until you couldn’t fuck me anymore. It feels like you could go again...”

  “Damn, Layla. And you were grilling me about how many people I’d slept with!”

  I realized, as he started moving back and forth again, bringing me to almost-climax within only a few seconds, that not only did Clayton not have a clue that I’d been a virgin when he’d first slept with me, he actually thought that I was ‘experienced’!

  I pushed the thought away. I’d deal with that later. I mean, it’s not that big a deal, is it? I was sure all guys had it as their dream to deflower a girl. I was sure he’d be totally fine with it...

  Clayton picked up pace, lying down so our ears touched and pushed down against my shoul
ders with his own as he thrust again deep into me. This time, when I came, I buried my forehead into the corner of his neck and shoulder and breathed in his manly scent and our combined sweat. There’s never been a better smell in all of my life. Not grilled cheese when I was starving, not buttered popcorn at a theater.

  I breathed him in as I heard and felt his warm come again inside me.

  At the end of it, he kept moving, slowly, gently. “Don’t you ever stop?” I asked.

  “Not when I have someone this beautiful below me.”

  I cringed at the statement, at us growing closer and closer tonight, as if at the end of it it would all snap and explode just like the false bubble I’d always known it was. I felt that all-too familiar sense of insecurity, the sensation of vertigo. Again, I pushed it from my mind. This had nothing to do with uncontrollable emotions goddamn it. Not if I had anything to say about it!

  Clayton moved in and around and out of me, in again, gently, even after he’d come, never stopping. The motion was satisfying, fulfilling. He kissed my tiny breasts, my sides, my skinny-ass ribs. I ran my hand through his hair.

  “I wish it would snow more often,” I said absently, looking out the window, the blizzard still relentlessly blasting snow down.

  Clayton kept massaging my insides with his semi-hard cock, pushing his pelvis against mine, kissing me, kissing me...

  “Clayton, why did you decide to have sex with me?”

  He stopped. “Hmm?”

  “The first time, I mean, why did you do it? Was it only because you were drunk?”

  He eased himself out of me, slowly, then massaged my crotch once or twice with his fingers, letting me know he was still there. He tickled me as he spoke. “If I recall correctly,” he said, “you asked me.”

  “Yes, I know...” I didn’t know what I was getting at, where I was going with this. Maybe I was hoping he’d tell me he felt nothing at all for me, thereby making my own burgeoning emotions pointless, allowing me to ignore them completely because the whole subject would then be moot anyway?

  “I like you,” he said. “I thought you liked me, but I can respect that you’re not into anything serious. I get it.”