by Amy Star
Melissa rolled her eyes. “Look, if it turns out you hit your head on something, I’m not dying when you pass out behind the wheel,” she informed him blandly.
With a snort and a scowl, Mitch slid down lower in the seat and stared out the window as Melissa started to drive.
Honestly, men could be such toddlers sometimes.
*
Melissa’s house was not what Mitch expected it to be. He expected a tiny, generic little one-story at the edge of town, possibly with a mud pit in the backyard to go searching for frogs. When she carried on driving into the mountains, he had to adjust his mental image slightly. And then, she kept on driving, higher and higher, until finally the narrow, pitted road turned into a leaf-strewn gravel driveway.
It rumbled and rattled and crunched under the car’s tires and curved in an almost perfect arc until Melissa pulled the car to a halt on a slab of tidy concrete, just beside the house that looked
nothing like what Mitch had imagined.
The yard was sprawling, and the moonlight was dappled and scattered as it fell through the leaves. The house itself was an enormous wooden A-frame cabin, the wall facing them made almost entirely of glass, so Mitch could see into the kitchen and what looked to be a living room. He had to stare as she led him inside, where the tile and hardwood floors gleamed, and the fireplace looked like a centerpiece all on its own.
Melissa looked up at him slowly, her smile sly. “It used to be the vacation house,” she explained, her smile very quickly broadening to a delighted grin. “My folks sold it to me for like a hundred bucks once we determined that I’d be able to pay all the bills and taxes.”
“Your parents just…gave you a house,” Mitch translated slowly.
“More or less,” she replied, apparently willing to concede that $100 was not much of a price tag in that context. “Why not? We don’t really do the whole…family vacation thing anymore, so the cabin was just sitting here. Why not let me have it? It’s not like my parents get anything out of it if I need to scrounge for every cent to pay rent in an apartment that looks like a cat threw it up and has zero luxuries.
And it’s not like they’re losing anything by giving me a house that we weren’t using anymore.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “There was literally no reason not to let me live here, other than…I don’t know, building character? But let’s be real, that excuse is always bullshit. You can build character doing literally anything. Sit down on one of the stools.”
The topic changed so quickly that it took a moment for Mitch to process it, before he sat down on one of the two bar stools at the kitchen island. He watched in bemusement as Melissa set about investigating, checking him over carefully for any sort of injuries. He let her have her way for a few minutes before he sighed and pointed out, “I told you, I’m fine.”
“A vampire kicked your ass,” she reminded him, utterly unsympathetic.
“Tried to kick my ass,” he corrected her, folding his arms over his chest. “I think I held my own pretty well, all things considered.” A beat, and he conceded reluctantly, “I guess I lucked out that he was a small vampire.”
“You think?” Melissa wondered dryly, though she did step back. “Look, just…” She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose between two fingers, knuckling at the corners of her eyes. “You were worried about me, but you’re the one whose first instinct with basically anyone is to say the least helpful thing you can think of.” She dragged her hand down her face. “Your baseline state of existence is throwing rocks through windows and then running from the homeowner’s dogs. I mean, I know I can jump the gun, but I do it on accident.”
“I don’t do it on purpose,” Mitch protested, rolling his eyes.
“Maybe not consciously,” Melissa conceded, shrugging one shoulder. “Anyway, my point is, can you just…chill out for a while? I mean, we’re doing something important, and it’s going to be a lot easier to get it done if I don’t need to keep worrying about whether you’ve pissed off…I don’t know, a Chupacabra or a skin walker or something.”
“Mel?” Mitch sighed, sliding down from the bar stool.
She fell silent, looking up at him expectantly. And she let out a noise sort of like a startled squeak when he bent down, cupped her face in both hands, and kissed her. For a few seconds, her hands fluttered awkwardly in the air as she tried to figure out what she was supposed to do with them, before they fell limply back to her sides as he slowly pulled away.
“Stop worrying,” he finally replied. “It was just a bad day. That’s all. I’m fine.”
She simply scowled up at him for a moment before she reached up, curled her hands around the back of his neck, and dragged him back down for a second kiss, insistent and exploratory. His hands settled on her hips as hers began to explore his stomach, fingers sliding over his skin.
She didn’t protest when he curled his hands beneath her thighs and picked her up, her legs curling around his waist as he deepened the kiss, his tongue probing at the seam of her lips until they parted. Their tongues slid together, and Mitch’s hold on her tightened as he began to make his way towards the door that seemed like the most likely one to be a bedroom.
Though, if they happened to get distracted and sidelined before they could even get there, he certainly wasn’t going to complain. He would be just as happy to fuck her on the couch or against a wall as he would be to fuck her on a proper bed. He would make it good no matter where it wound up happening or what surface it wound up happening on or against, and he wasn’t really getting the impression that she would object to either of those outcomes at that point, as she was panting through her nose while Mitch’s tongue delved deeper into her mouth.
To Mitch’s surprise, they did actually make it to Melissa’s bedroom before anything truly started to happen, and he set her back down as he fumbled with the door knob for a moment before opening the door.
He backed her towards the bed and pulled her shirt over her head as the back of her knees met the edge of her mattress and she came to a halt. Reluctantly, she pulled her hands away from where they were wandering -- his chest and abs -- to instead help him pull the garment off, and to unclip her bra, letting it fall to the edge of the mattress where it then slid down to the floor.
Mitch’s hands trailed down her sides until they came to the waistband of her pants, and he slid the tips of his fingers beneath it as he dragged his hands towards the button, his fingers pulling along the fabric of her panties until he popped the button and tugged the zipper down.
One hand curled around her hip, the tips of some of his fingers still beneath her waistband, and his other hand dipped below the open fly of her pants, fingers sliding along the cloth of her panties until he was stroking her clit through the fabric. She shivered against him, her hands clenching against his arms.
“Have you ever…?” Mitch’s voice trailed off midway through the question, and Melissa shook her head tightly. His fingers slowed, until her grip against his arms tightened enough that her nails started digging at his skin.
“Keep going,” she commanded, and though her voice shook slightly, she sounded sure.
Slowly, Mitch nodded, he pressed his fingers more firmly against her clit and kept rubbing it, and Melissa sucked in a quiet breath, letting her head dip forward to rest her forehead against his chest. Mitch kept rubbing, his other hand absentmindedly stroking the skin of her hip in small, idle circles, until her panties were damp, and finally he pushed them aside, so he could stroke her properly.
She heaved a slow, shuddering sigh as he dragged his fingers along her vulva, already hot and damp and ready. But if this was her first time, then Mitch wasn’t going to rush it. She deserved for her first time to be incredible, and he fully intended to make it so.
He rubbed his thumb in slow, steady circles against her clit and pressed his middle finger to her entrance. He massaged around it at first, finger moving in slow circles, and with his other hand he began trying to fidget her pants down her hips, until she p
ulled her hands away from his arms. They shook only slightly as she shimmied her pants down her thighs just enough to give him room to properly work.
He coaxed her into spreading her legs as wide as she should with her pants still around her thighs. Finally, he sank his middle finger into the velvet heat of her sex, and she gasped, her hands once again clutching at his arms.
“Alright?” he asked, voice low, and he didn’t move until she nodded. And finally, he began thrusting his finger into her.
Melissa clung to him, her grip on his arms tight and her face hidden against his chest as she panted and moaned and whined with each motion of his hand, utterly unashamed of the sounds she was making. Mitch waited until her breath was hitching before he slid a second finger into her, and his other hand slid from her hip up her side and to her chest. He grinned at the little gasp that escaped as he pinched one of her nipples between two fingers and twisted slightly. He gave it a squeeze and a tug and a firmer pinch, and he pressed a third finger into her as she was distracted.
She moaned, long and low and wanton, as he finally began to pick up the pace. Her legs began to shake as he thrust his fingers fast, and with each thrust inward, she had to rise onto her toes slightly, until finally he urged her back onto the bed. Her legs hung over the side, and he put a knee on the mattress, leaning over her as he thrust his fingers into her over and over, until her fingers clenched in the bedding and her toes curled against the rug. Her back arched, her stomach went taut, and her sex clenched around his fingers as she came with a long, whimpering moan.
It seemed like a short eternity before she went slack again, her chest heaving as she slumped back down onto the bed. She was coated with a thin layer of sweat, and her hair was sticking to her face and neck. When Mitch leaned down and kissed her, she was slow and sluggish to
respond, and he could feel her trembling with overstimulation as he kept working his fingers into her.
He had determined he was going to make her first time good, after all.
Slowly, he pulled his fingers out and pulled his hand out of her panties. He kissed her again
before he began trailing kisses along her jaw and neck, making his way to her chest with lips and teeth and tongue, until finally his lips closed around one pale, pink nipple. He flicked the tip of his tongue over, circled his tongue around it, and with the lightest pressure of his teeth he gave
it a tug, and she moaned gently beneath him. As he pulled away, she sighed out a quiet protest,
only to moan again as he gave the same attention to her other nipple.
Slowly, he leaned back, and he curled his hands around her hips to pull her farther onto the bed. He pulled her shoes off, followed by her pants and her panties, and he sighed in relief as he
unbuttoned his pants. He shoved his jeans and his boxer briefs down his thighs, his erection springing free, and once he got them to his knees, he kicked off his shoes and let his pants drop to the floor, stepping out of them.
Melissa was propping herself up on her elbows as Mitch knelt on the mattress and shuffled closer to her. As he settled between her legs, he urged her to sit up with his hands on her hips, until she was straddling his thighs.
She was so small compared to him. It took almost no effort for him to lift her off of his lap, his hands cupping her ass. He paused for a moment once her entrance was hovering over the head of his cock, and Melissa sucked in a breath as he began to lower her. The head of his cock breached her, and he had to stop, both to let her adjust to the feeling and so he could adjust as well. She was so tight it almost seemed impossible.
Her hands clenched against his shoulders, and slowly he began to lower her. It seemed to take forever before she was once more seated on his lap, and he was fully sheathed within her, her damp heat hugging every centimeter of his cock. She trembled slightly on his lap, but when he asked, “Everything good?” she nodded slowly.
His grip beneath her ass tightened, and he began to lift her off his lap. He sighed, slow and unsteady, at the drag of her passage along his cock. He only stopped lifting her when just the head of his cock was still sheathed. He paused for a second before he began lowering her again, just as slowly as the first time. She breathed out a sigh that almost sounded as if it was being punched out of her lungs, and her grip against his neck tightened.
Slow and steady, he lifted her off his lap and lowered her back onto his cock three more times with Melissa whimpering and moaning all the while, before she managed in a voice that slurred with pleasure, “You can go faster.”
He sped up only slightly at first, until she wrapped her arms around the back of his neck and pressed her body flush to his, urging, “Faster,” once again.
That time, Mitch got the point. He lifted her off of his lap in one swift motion, and just as swiftly dragged her back down, and the moan that ripped itself from her throat was more of a sob, followed by a strangled, “Yes, yes.”
She didn’t talk anymore after that, unless the jumble of senseless syllables and half-formed words that spilled past her lips with each quick, pounding thrust as he bounced her on his lap counted as talking. With each drag downwards, he rose up onto his knees slightly as he pounded into her, and Melissa moaned and babbled senselessly in his ear all the while.
When she came a second time, it was not a gentle sort of pleasure. It surged through her more like a bolt of lightning, as her hold tightened, and her toes curled. Her passage tightened around Mitch’s cock and her back bowed, and Mitch kept thrusting all the while, drawing her orgasm out for as long as he could, and then longer still as he felt his own orgasm rapidly approaching.
Melissa was just beginning to twitch and shiver with overstimulation again, her muscles going lax as Mitch came. He managed a few more faltering thrusts before he finally slowed to a halt with Melissa on his lap, his softening cock still sheathed within her. She rested quietly against his shoulder, mumbling something too softly for him to catch it. Carefully, he lifted her off of his lap and laid her down, but she was asleep before he had the chance to ask her what she said.
Rolling his eyes fondly, Mitch pulled her glasses from the bridge of her nose and set them on the nightstand before he lay down beside her and pulled the blanket over them both. It wasn’t long before he was asleep as well.
CHAPTER FIVE
The next morning dawned, as mornings tended to do. Melissa grumbled into her pillow and pulled her blanket over her head to block out the light spilling across her face from the window. She was still half asleep, so it took a moment for her to realize there was a warm mass against her back and that she wasn’t alone in her bed, and she opened her eyes, staring into the blanket-induced darkness.
The previous morning, she reflected to herself, she had been a virgin. And that morning, she no longer was. Despite that, she felt very much the same as she had the day before. Not in a bad way, though. She just felt like herself, and considering she had heard horror stories about what sex could do to a woman, she was more than okay with just feeling like herself.
She didn’t feel dirty and defiled, like her high school teachers had tried to convince the girls they would be. Nor did she feel like it had been some transcendent experience, though it had been
undeniably enjoyable, and she was definitely looking forward to it happening again. She felt
remarkably similar to the way she had felt the day before.
Mostly, she felt a little sore. It was a good sort of sore, though. Or at least not a bad sort of sore, which more or less boiled down to the same thing at the end of the day.
She was pretty sure she wasn’t going to be getting back to sleep at that point, though, so she carefully sat up and got out of bed, leaving Mitch to sleep. She gathered some clothes for the day and made her way into the bathroom.
Maybe the more romantic thing to do would be to wake him up to share a shower or something like that, but Melissa always looked forward to that brief period of time in the morning when it was just her and the warm water, and the re
st of the world disappeared for a little while. Besides, she had never been a huge romantic.
She preferred just saying and acting on what she felt rather than trying to make a huge production out of it, and so much of typical romance always seemed like it was there more to inform other people that the romantically entangled duo were, indeed, romantically entangled.
(Granted, romance involving the shower didn’t really fall into that category, but the fact
remained that she appreciated her private time.)
On the whole, her attitude was tending towards “thanks but no thanks,” and they could always share a shower on a different morning.
Her shower was warm, and the pounding water eased some of the soreness from her muscles. She stood under the spray to enjoy it until the mirror on the wall and the glass of the shower door were so foggy they were nearly entirely opaque. Only then did she turn off the water and step out of the shower. She dressed slowly and wrapped her hair in a towel on top of her head, and from there, she made her way to the kitchen.
