His hands began fumbling at the hem of my shirt, and I raised my arms to allow him to lift it above my head. I stood before him topless, since I’d taken off my bra for the night.
I straightened my shoulders, pushing out my breasts for his inspection.
It was obvious how much he enjoyed my tits. His hands and mouth began to stroke them, caress, kiss and nibble almost as if he was on autopilot, drawn in by some powerful homing device guiding him to his objective.
I loved how thoroughly he worshipped my body. He feasted on my flesh until I was flushed and warm. I tugged gently on his hair to pull him back up to kiss me. His tongue savagely invaded my mouth, stroking mine while his hips gently rocked forward, bumping his tense erection against my belly. My hips automatically flexed towards his, seeking, wanting.
I dropped my knees, needing to taste him. As I settled to the floor between his feet, his hands were already at his waistband, working to free himself from his jeans. I looked up at him and held his gaze while he offered me a taste. I remained still, mouth open, hands on his thighs as he gripped his shaft and began working himself in and out of my mouth, watching as I swirled my tongue along the swollen head.
“Fuck, babe.” He gripped my hair, pushing himself farther into my mouth. “Just like that.”
I enthusiastically took him deeper, opening as wide as I could to accept him. I bobbed up and down the length of him, feasting greedily on every thick inch of his manly goodness, unable to help the damp noises my mouth made against his flesh or the little groans of desire when he bumped the back of my throat.
A second later, he placed his hands underneath my arms and hauled me roughly to my feet. “In my bed. Now.” His fingers on the base of my spine prodded me forward, toward his bedroom.
I was only too happy to oblige, being insanely horny and just as curious about exactly how far he was going to let this go.
When we entered his room he kept the light switched off, and turned me to face him. He bent and tasted my left breast, and then my right, nibbling my skin before he rose. He unbuttoned my jeans. “Take these off,” he commanded. “The panties too.”
He had to know what he was asking. The last time we’d been together I’d made it clear that my underwear needed to stay on, otherwise there were no promises of me staying off his cock.
I removed my jeans, and then slowly, carefully slid my panties down my legs. It didn’t escape my notice that I happened to be wearing the white cotton undies I’d joked with Ashlyn were my most virginal pair.
Cohen’s eyes moved along my legs, watching me drop the panties to my ankles and fling them off with my toe. He swallowed, and in the shadowy room, I could see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat.
Butterflies—no, more like a flock of birds, large birds, like peacocks, or ostriches—rioted in my belly. I hadn’t been this nervous when I’d lost my own virginity. I wasn’t positive that was what we were going to do, until I noticed the air in the room felt different and Cohen’s gaze more needy, and I knew that sex was on the menu.
“Come here.” He held out his hand and I took it, letting him lead me to the bed.
We collided together in the center of the mattress, a tangle of arms and legs as we kissed roughly for several minutes. I wasn’t sure if I should take matters into my own hands, as the more experienced one, or allow Cohen to lead so I could be sure this was what he wanted. I chose the latter.
After several minutes, he shifted and hauled me with him. “I don’t have any condoms,” he breathed against my neck.
Holy shit! Were we really going to do this? “I think I have one in my purse,” I heard myself saying.
“Which is where?”
“In my apartment.” I grinned, guiltily. Surely this would be the breather we needed to calm the situation, for him to get back under control.
Cohen stood and pulled on a pair of jogging shorts from the floor, sans boxers, and I giggled at the sight of him.
“What?” he looked down, and chuckled himself. His erection caused the shorts to tent out in the front, making it extremely obvious he was sporting some serious wood. “It’s dark. No one will see anything,” he assured me.
“Yeah, but if they do, they’ll call the police.”
He laughed again, and left the bedroom.
“My purse is on the island,” I called to his retreating backside.
The entire time he was gone, my mind alternated between panic and euphoria, and my heart slammed against my chest at the flurry of emotion.
He returned a minute later with my entire purse, the large bulge still protruding out of the front of his shorts. He dropped them to his ankles and joined me on the bed once again.
I removed the condom and set my purse on the floor. The plastic package crinkled in my hands, the noise splintering the silence of the rom. I checked Cohen’s expression for doubt, for any sign he didn’t want this and found none.
“Yes?” Somehow, verbal agreement seemed to also be in order. A decision like this wasn’t supposed to be taken lightly.
“Yes.” Cohen’s voice was low, but strong.
I tore open the package, then leaned toward him and placed the condom on his belly. He unrolled it onto himself while we kissed. It seemed to be taking an inordinate amount of time, but I didn’t want to embarrass him by questioning if he knew what he was doing.
Once his hands came up and cupped my jaw, I knew it was on and there was nothing stopping us. My heartbeat built to an uncomfortable level, but still I waited to see what his next move would be.
I heard him gasp, and I opened my eyes. He looked uncomfortable and his erection had softened slightly. “Fuck, this thing is tight.” I bit back a laugh, because of course it was supposed to be tight, but when I looked down and saw it actually appeared to be cutting off his circulation and only covered half his length, my laughter died on my lips.
“Cohen, we don’t need it.” I’d been tested recently and up until this point had always used condoms, despite being on the pill.
He pulled the rubber free with a snap and tossed it to the floor beside the bed.
If it was any other guy, I’d think it was a plot to go condom-free, but not Cohen, I could tell it had truly surprised him how uncomfortable the offending piece of latex had been.
“Better?” I whispered.
He nodded lightly. “Much.” He gripped my upper arms and hauled me onto his lap. “Now come here.”
We began kissing again as I moved against his hips. This time when his shaft slid up and down my wet folds, it was without any barrier between us.
I waited for him to stop me, to say something—anything. But he remained quiet aside from his rough breathing and the occasional groan. When I felt him begin to slide inside me, I don’t know which of us was more surprised, but there was no denying it felt right. It felt better than right, it was perfect. He sunk into me slowly, inch by inch, until he was fully buried in my warm heat. He let out a groan and a string of incoherent curse words.
This beautiful man was giving me something precious to him, claiming me as his with each thrust of his hips, with each breath and kiss that we shared. The thought made me dizzy and lightheaded, and made my limbs tremble, and then Cohen thrust into me and swept away all coherent thought.
I’d thought at first that having me on top meant I’d do all the work, but Cohen held my hips firmly in place while he pushed upward, rocking his hips against me at a steady pace. I placed my hands on his chest and watched his expression and his icy blue eyes turn dark with desire.
I felt too exposed on top like this, not that the position was new or anything, but with Cohen, it felt like something more. He watched my movements—and not just the way my chest bounced—but he also looked deep into my eyes, watching my every expression. I gripped his perfectly formed pectorals as he continued to drive into me, his features alight with wonder and passion.
I had no idea how long he would last, since I hadn’t had sex with a virgin since I was a teenager—and of that experience I remembered exactly two things: the excruciating pain, like I was being penetrated with a knife, and that Tyler Simonson had lasted exactly forty-nine seconds (I’d counted). But Cohen surprised me by pumping into me at a steady pace for much longer than I expected. And when he hauled me off his lap suddenly, I thought maybe he was going to come, but instead he positioned himself over me, spread my thighs apart with both hands, pressed into me again and admired the spot where our bodies joined.
His thrusts grew harder, and I bit my lip from crying out. His breathing became uneven and erratic as he struggled to maintain control. “Oh fuck, fuck, baby,” he groaned. “You feel amazing.”
I loved that Cohen didn’t hold back with me. I grasped his forearms, which were still holding my thighs spread apart. I could feel his muscles tense from trying not to come too soon. “Cohen,” I moaned as my own orgasm built.
His eyes flicked to mine, a slow, sexy smile curving his mouth. “Tell me what to do…what you like…” he whispered against my lips, kissing me softly.
“Fuck me harder,” I breathed. I was already so close.
He grunted and his thrusts grew more fierce, shorter drives that pummeled into me and shook the bed.
I whimpered. My hands slid from his back down to his ass, and I gripped him tighter to me. “Don’t stop. Just like that.”
His fingers tightened on my thighs, biting into the tender flesh as he drove into me.
I arched my back and cried out his name as a powerful orgasm ripped through me. Cohen slowed his movements, somehow knowing exactly what I needed. He watched as a lazy smile crossed my lips. I could feel my inner walls pulsing around him in the aftereffects of my orgasm.
Recognition changed his expression, and I could tell he felt the gentle squeezes too.
I pulled him down on top of me and kissed him passionately as his breathing quickened. His kisses were disjointed and halting, like he was struggling to concentrate on everything at once. He wasn’t annoying and loud like some of the men I’d been with. He bit his lip to keep from moaning out, but that didn’t stop the gasps of air from coming hot against my neck as he struggled to maintain control. It was freaking hot.
He continued his steady thrusts against me as I wrapped my arms around him and held him to me. “I’m going to come, babe,” he whispered.
“Inside me,” I murmured.
His body shook with his release, and I held him tighter, clutching him to my chest as a low moan escaped from his throat.
He buried his face into my neck as I felt his warm semen flood inside me.
I exhaled quietly, satisfied and content and yet terrified, and knew that nothing would be the same again.
The second time we had sex that night the experience was slower, more controlled. There was a marked difference. It was making love. Cohen ensured every part of my body was aching and ready for him before he took me. He moved slowly above me, his eyes locked on mine as I gripped his biceps. He whispered my name softly next to my ear, as if to demonstrate what this meant to him. It was clear our first time was for me—rougher, more intense—and this second time it for was for him, tender, careful, savoring.
No words needed to be said, it was obvious what he was telling me. In every touch, every kiss, I knew exactly what he was saying, but the full reality hit me when we finished, and he folded me into his arms and held me tightly against him. That scared me more than his willingness to give me his virginity.
After, Cohen suggested we take a shower together. It would be another first for him—showering with a woman—he’d said, but I’d refused, needing some space from him and the intensity of the moment.
He allowed me to shower first, and I took my time under the warm spray of water, vigorously scrubbing away all traces of his aftershave from my skin. Once I was thoroughly pink, I emerged from the shower to find a set of pajamas laid out for me on his bed—a large white T-shirt and a pair of his black boxer briefs.
When I wandered into the living room to find him, he was settled on the couch with a sleepy Bob lying at his feet. I stepped over Bob and sat down next to him.
“Mmm. Warm beer and cold Chinese food, my favorite,” he joked, setting a plate in front of me, and arranging various cartons on the coffee table.
I laughed, happy to see that despite the weight of what we’d just done, it was still just Cohen and me. I’d completely forgotten about the provisions I’d brought over being left out on the counter while we were occupied in the bedroom.
I speared a piece of the sesame chicken, opting for a fork instead of the chopsticks and took a bite. Despite being room temperature, the food tasted amazing. I balanced the plate on my knees and reflected on how thankful I was for Cohen, for this. I didn’t know what the future might hold, and I so wasn’t ready to go there, but it felt good to be here with him, dressed in his clothes, enjoying a nice evening in.
Cohen opened my bottle of beer and set it before me. “For you, beautiful.”
He grinned and caught my eye. “How was everything…for you?” His head tipped towards his bedroom door, and I knew he was asking about his performance.
“You’re kidding right? If screaming your name and having two orgasms didn’t clue you in, let me assure you, you did just fine, sweetheart.” I patted the top of his head.
He chuckled, and took a swig of his own beer. “What the fuck were those, by the way? Micro-mini condoms?” he teased.
I rolled my eyes, knowing he wanted to hear me say that he was exceptionally large. “It was a regular-size condom, Cohen.” I mentally made a note that he’d need the large-sized condoms for next time. Or I was fine using none at all.
“Hm,” he thoughtfully tapped a fingertip against my lips.
He was bigger than average, but of course I wouldn’t tell him that. It was obvious he was feeling pretty damn smug at the moment, and I loved the spark in his baby-blue eyes.