Deacon is kissing the side of my breast, watching my face with a teasing smile. “How was that?” he asks.

“What the fuck just happened?” I say, breathless and a little confused. How had I been masturbating for years and never knew it could be like that? It’s almost like a betrayal, like my body has been lying to me this entire time.

He buries his face between my breasts and starts laughing. Like, crack-up laughing. I feel kind of dumb, like some ignorant little girl instead of the sexual woman I try to portray myself to be.

“You’ve never had an orgasm before?” he says when he finally stops laughing.

I’m still breathless, my heart pounding in the back of my neck. “Not like that. Nothing close to being like that.”

He looks at me, smug now when he smiles. “Oh, honey, that’s nothing compared to the things I plan to do to you.”

A shiver rolls through me and it feels a little like Christmas right now. I’m so excited I can hardly sit still.

He kisses his way down my body until his head is between my spread legs. At first he just teases me. A nibble here, a bite there. My body reacts. Just knowing he’s down there is enough to turn me on. Then his tongue reaches out, touching that most delicate spot and it’s as though the rest of the world has just slipped away into the abyss. I close my eyes, marveling in the feelings he’s giving me. He sucks at the skin of my labia, nursing at my clit. Tongue driving deep. Drinking in my excitement. He’s so focused. The skin on his forehead tightens as he concentrates on bringing me pleasure.

When he comes up for air, he says, “Your pussy tastes so good.” Then he’s diving back in. I hold the back of his head, running my fingers through his thick hair.

He fits his entire mouth around my pussy, hungry for it. Sucking and licking as if he’s afraid to miss a single drop.

A wonderful warmth spreads through my body, reaching out to my limbs and I lie here feeling as if I’m glowing from the inside out. I’ve never felt like this. It was always awkward and confusing with other boyfriends when we’d fool around and it was obvious that neither of us had enjoyed the experience as much as we should have. Maybe it’s because Deacon is older and more experienced. He seems to know exactly what my body needs exactly when it needs it.


He slips his finger in, and though I’ve been fingered before—including by myself—it’s as if he’s found some kind of secret passage, a pleasure center that’s been hidden my whole life and only his finger is the key to unlocking it.

I let out a loud moan despite trying to be painfully quiet as not to wake up the baby. It’s probably too late for that now. I already cried out more than once.

He tries a second finger. It’s an uncomfortably narrow fit. “Jesus, you’re tight,” he says.

I almost tell him it’s because I’ve never had anything more than one finger in there before. I’m afraid to tell him I’m a virgin, afraid it’ll scare him away. I don’t want this to stop. I don’t want him to think of me as the little kid next door. I’m a woman now, and I don’t want to come off as anything else.

I take his hand and move it before he realizes I’m a virgin. “I need you,” I tell him. “I want you inside of me.”

He climbs his way up my body, kissing me the entire time. While he’s on top, he looks at my eyes and he’s so insanely handsome. I can’t believe this is actually going to happen with him. All of those adolescent fantasies finally coming to life. I can hardly stand the anticipation.

The head of his cock rubs against my clit, both of us wet and slick, driving me wild. He starts to push into me and when he does there’s a slight tinge of pain. He stops, hitting my barrier. His brow furrows. There’s a long pause, him studying my face before he finally says, “You’re a virgin?”

I take a long breath. There’s no sense in lying. It’s pretty obvious. “I am.”

He lets out a disappointed sigh, and my heart clenches. “Remy, your first time should be with someone you care about.” He starts to pull out, but I grab his hips, holding him in place.

“There’s no one else I would rather lose my virginity to. I’ve been in love with you since I was thirteen-years-old. No one has ever made me feel the way you have. I’ve always been waiting for you,” I say. “I want to do this with you and only you.”

The hunger in his stare intensifies. His lips devour mine, our tongues clashing together, twisting and writhing around each other.

“Are you sure you want this?” he says, breathless, when our lips part. His thumb traces the curve of my bottom lip.

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