Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
I expect him to go for it, but he toys with me. Dalton slides one hand lazily over my side as he presses his thumb in and out of my hole. It’s so slippery, so sensitive I’m losing my mind. Maybe I’m no longer Corvus Van der Horn, because I’m a whimpery mess, and he’s not even pushed his dick in—
Dalton’s cockhead settles against my stretched opening, and he rocks his hips a little, stroking my side as though I’m a nervous mare needing comfort before being mounted. “Let me know if something hurts,” he whispers, and I’m about to tell him to shut up and get on with it, but then he thrusts his hips, and I yelp, squeezing the blanket, because fucking fuck he’s thick.
It shouldn’t surprise me, I’ve seen him, touched him even, but for all the preparation I’ve done before I came here, this is still my first time doing this with a lover that’s not made of silicone. I clutch the blanket, biting down on my lip to keep myself from making more embarrassing noises, but my body goes rigid fast, and it feels as if that thing inside me is a knife, not a cock.
Cold sweat beads on my back and above my lip as panic weaves itself through the fibers of my body, because this was obviously a mistake from the start! I’ll probably not enjoy this at all anyway, but with Dalton being so big, I might end up getting hurt, regardless of whether it happens on purpose or not. I wouldn’t be the first person to end up in the ER because of sex, and if I started bleeding because of something serious, like a perforated fucking intestine, everyone would soon know my secret. My family would treat me like a joke. Our enemies would lose their respect for me.
I would never fucking recover after something like that.
“I—maybe… it’s not working,” I mumble.
"Biggest you've ever been with?" he teases like this is some light-hearted matter.
It only reminds me how thick his cock is, how heavy he is, and… how much I want it. To feel a man fucking me, wanting me, using my body for his pleasure.
Dalton doesn’t move, doesn’t force the rest of his cock in, just lies on top of me, kissing my ear, stroking my side. He slides his thick arm under me and holds his palm against my furiously beating heart.
It’s all so hot. And yet I ache a little. It’s so messed up. I’m no pain slut, but taking his cock turns me on even now as I’m considering telling him to fuck off.
“I’ll pull out now, and add more lube,” he says and kisses my nape as if I’m his fucking sweetheart not his jailor.
My breath hitches, and I want to protest, shove him off me, but when his dick vacates my hole, leaving it aching, I’m almost missing its presence already. There’s something so calming about the gentle way he’s stroking me as the loud squirt of lube makes my cheeks heat again. I wouldn't be in this helplessly vulnerable position if I hadn’t put myself in it, so maybe it is only right that I learn my lesson.
I make a non-committal hum, which he might or might not take as confirmation, because I’m not revealing that I’ve never let a man fuck me before. He doesn’t have the right to that kind of information. It would just make his ego bigger than it already is.
I do… like that he communicates well in sex, even if I admit that to myself reluctantly.
I stifle a moan when his cock is back at my slick opening. I want it. I want a big dick inside me. I can’t help it. The need is so primal it floods my brain with even more arousal when Dalton presses his cockhead in with more ease than last time.
His grunt is music to my ears. As if my body is making this brute forget he’s in a life or death situation. He wants to fuck regardless, or he wouldn’t be this hard.
“Tight but slippery, just the way I like it,” he murmurs and rocks his hips. “That’s it, you can take it.”
The pain is still there, making my cock soften, but any and all desire to stop him is gone. I cross my hands over my lips, determined to stay quiet and take my first cock with some dignity at least. He’s shifting his weight, letting it guide that first thrust, and I stiffen again, my mind flaring up with worries and shame.
Why am I doing this to myself?
What is wrong with me?
He’s awakening the kind of animalistic instincts that maybe should have stayed buried. I want to stretch in his lap as he pets me, kisses me, appreciates, and yes, fucks me too.