Room 1208 (3 page)

This conversation had
never
happened in
her fantasies. “I, er, only wax a little. I don’t like how itchy it gets. And
it makes me feel more feminine to have hair there.”

“You’re blushing again.”

“Real redheads blush easily. It’s a curse.”

“I like it. Don’t ever change.”

He leaned forward and kissed that patch of hair.

Her hips nearly flew off the bed. He jerked his
head back, rubbed his nose. “You’re a wild one, aren’t you.” He sounded very
pleased and very aroused by that assumption.

She reached down, clumsily patting the top of his
head. “Oh! Did I hurt you? I’m sorry!” Her embarrassment intensified.

His laughter was like warm bourbon spilling over
her skin. “You didn’t hurt me, sugar. But let’s try it this way.” He brought
one arm across her hips, gently but effectively holding her in place as he
brought his other arm and hand up to spread her legs, giving him room to move
his head and upper torso between them. He licked her belly button, the slight
swell of her stomach, before burying his nose in her pubic hair. “Mmm, you even
smell like cinnamon.”

The first time she’d visited a gynecologist—just
one year ago—she’d finally learned the names and functions of all of her
feminine parts. It’d been a long overdue part of her therapy, another step in
restructuring and refining her body image and learning to respect and like
herself.

That place where her hair grew, that place he was
pressing his nose to, was her mons pubis, the cushiony area that protected her
pubic bone. She hadn’t known just how sensitive that area was until he touched
it. He pressed the pad of his thumb there now and she gave a little whimper.

“You like that?”

“Y-yes.”

He pressed down harder while his mouth continued
its downward journey, whispering over her clitoral hood before sliding over her
outer labia. He licked into the fold between her outer labia and thigh, down
one side and up the other. On the second trip around, he flicked his tongue
against her clitoral hood, a teasing promise, before he used his fingers to
spread her inner labia and kiss her there. “You’re so pink and pretty here,” he
rasped. “I can see how excited you are.”

She whimpered again, chin pressed to her chest as
she watched him, dazed. “Do you always talk this much during sex?”

He lifted his head to meet the bewildered gaze
she couldn’t conceal. He took a moment to reply while his thumb continued its
wicked, circular pressure against her mons, making her hips writhe even more.
“It depends,” he finally said. “Do you like it?”

On the verge of losing all coherent thought, she
nodded. “Yes.”

She hadn’t expected much conversation at all on
this night. But, she
did
like it. His words, his expressions of real
pleasure in every facet of her body, not only served to stir her desire to
greater heights of sensuality than she’d imagined were possible, but also made
her feel more confident in her own femininity. In fact, way down in the
recesses of her mind, she wondered if this night, one that was becoming more
magical with each moment, would spoil her for any future lovemaking. Would it
always be like this?

Then he pressed down on her clitoris with the
hard, wet inquisitive point of his tongue and all thought was replaced with an
overwhelming kaleidoscope of vibrant colors. Her head vibrated with a series of
escalating moans and inarticulate words as he licked and kissed and sucked.
When his tongue sank into the depths of her vagina, she threw her head back,
throat arched, her mouth open in a wail of ecstasy that went on and on and on,
muffled only when he slid up her body and covered her mouth with his in a lush,
languid kiss, sharing the taste of her orgasm with her.

His tongue moved in and out of her mouth, first
lazy, then fast, matching the play of his long finger that was moving
knuckles-deep in and out of her vagina. When her cries died down to a restless
moan, he released her mouth and looked deeply into her eyes, his pupils dilated
and pulsing with rampant desire. His cheeks were ruddy, his breathing urgent.
“Are you on birth control?”

“Y-yes, but—” She pointed with trembling fingers
to the nightstand drawer.

He stretched over to open it, his chest grazing
across her breasts and making her shiver with renewed anticipation. She watched
as he tore open a condom wrapper with his hands then lifted away from her to
sit back on his heels. She didn’t remember him taking his pants and shoes off.
He must have done that while she was lost in the delirious throes of her
orgasm. She expelled a tremulous sigh, regretful that she’d missed the
striptease that had played a major part in her fantasies, glad that she didn’t
have to wait much longer to feel a man inside of her at last. His penis, thick
and long, jutted out from a nesting of dark pubic hair. It bobbed slightly as
he rolled the condom down. She reached out to touch it, mesmerized.

But, before she could, he took her hand, squeezed
it gently. “Better not,” he said in an appeasing growl. “I’m about to explode.”

“Does it hurt?” Oh,
God
. She hadn’t been
able to prevent that question from blurting from her mouth. She quickly
replaced her curious expression with, what she hoped, was a provocative one.

His quizzical look transformed into a reciprocal,
wicked grin. “Oh, yeah, sugar. It hurts so bad. I need you to cure the ache.”

She giggled in spite of her returning anxiety.
“You have
such
a way with words.”

He put his hands under her arms, easily lifting
and sliding her backwards until she was fully on the bed, her head on the
pillows. Then he moved his legs between hers, spreading her wide to accommodate
the width of his hips. He placed one hand on either side of her head, lifting
his upper body so that they both could see where his erection rubbed against
her belly.

“Take me inside you,” he murmured, conceding that
one touch.

Heart thundering in her ears, she reached down
between their damp bodies, wrapped her quivering hand around his erection,
wishing she had time to explore its intriguing contours as she showed it the
way. He groaned softly as he slowly pushed the bulbous head inside of her,
eased back out, and pushed in farther, eased out, and pushed in farther still.
She gasped softly, her hands fluttering against his chest, seeking purchase, as
she focused all her being on that place where his body now joined with hers,
that place that, until this moment, had never been filled by a man.

His breath hissed through his teeth. “Damn,
you’re so tight.”

She tensed. “It’s been…a long time.”

That was true, but not in the way he thought she
meant.

“Feels so good,” he groaned, sinking in deeper.
“I don’t know how long I can last.”

She didn’t know what to do with her hands. One
lightly touched his sweat-slickened chest as it rose and fell above her. The
other clutched the blankets near her hip. She felt anxious from his reaction to
how tight she was. Would that give her secret away? She’d unwittingly broken
her hymen the first time she’d used a tampon; there wouldn’t be any telltale
blood. Still, her body wasn’t used to receiving such thickness. She felt her
vaginal walls expanding and contracting around his girth, doing what was necessary
to accommodate him. And she was so wet down there. Wet enough that she felt
only a slight burning sensation as he worked inside her, none of the pain she’d
anticipated. She was so wet that she heard a liquid sucking sound as he moved
in and out of her. Her skin felt on fire, flushed with what she felt now was
more mortification than passion.

He suddenly went still, half buried inside of
her. He brought one hand to her face, bracketing her chin with his thumb and
index finger, compelling her to look at him. His pulsating eyes matched the
tempo of his harsh breathing. “Hey,” he said on a gasp, sounding worried. “Have
I lost you?”

She felt the threat of tears itching at the backs
of her eyes. His genuine concern was so astonishing at this critical moment.
She shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “I just…” What could she say that
wouldn’t reveal her for the fraud that she was? “I… You’re just so handsome
and…big... And it’s been…a long time. I’m feeling a little…overwhelmed.”

All true.

The harsh grooves at the corners of his mouth
relaxed as he smiled tenderly down at her. “It’s all right, sugar.” His head
swooped down, his mouth pressing warm, reassuring kisses to her forehead, her
eyelashes, her cheeks, before nibbling at her parted lips. “I’ll try and take
it slower,” he murmured between kisses. “You just feel so good. And…it’s been a
long time for me, too.”

She sighed into his mouth. “Really?”

His chest rumbled with quiet laughter at the
obvious incredulousness in her question. “Now you’re the one who’s assuming
things. You think because I’m…handsome that I have a woman in my bed every
night?”

Well, yes.

But he didn’t wait for her to respond. “No more
talk of this. Relax, sugar. Here, put your arms around me.” He found her awkward
hands and drew them up and around his shoulders. He settled more of his weight
on her, bracing his upper body on his elbows now instead of his hands, so that
his chest scraped deliciously over her swollen breasts. He moved his head,
rubbing his cheek against hers, his scratchy breath close to her ear. Rekindled
longing oozed through her veins like honey, gradually warming and relaxing her
muscles and limbs. Her hands skated over his shoulders, down his sides to his
hips and back up again. His skin was so smooth, so hot and slick to the touch.
On the next excursion she paused at the indentation of his lower back,
tentative fingers reaching for the alluring swell of his flexing buttocks.

“Oh, yeah, I like that,” he growled
encouragingly. “Keep going.” His buttocks lifted and then surged forward as he
pushed deeper still.

She gasped. He’d pressed against a mysterious
place inside of her, shooting sparks of agonizing pleasure up her spine. Her fingernails
dug into his buttocks.

“Ah, I think we’ve found your sweet spot. You
like that?” He pulled back slightly before pushing against that special place
again.

“Oh,
oh
,” she cried.

“Put your legs around me,” he demanded in a
fevered murmur. “Now.”

She eagerly complied, wrapping her legs around
his lower back and crossing her ankles. Her hips writhed under him, lifting and
pushing, begging him to move faster, harder.

With a low groan that resonated from deep in his
chest, he ploughed in to the hilt. “
Damn
. You feel so good. I’ve never—”

Whatever he was about to say, or chose not to
say, was buried against her lips as he plunged his tongue deep into her mouth,
his moans matching hers as he increased the pace of his pelvic thrusts, faster,
faster.

She held on tight with legs and arms and greedy
fingers, loving the wet push and pull of him inside of her, the full weight now
of his body gliding on top of hers. He had his arms wrapped around her head.
She felt surrounded by a cocoon of hot muscle and skin and breath. She was on
the verge of a second orgasm, so close, so close.

He tore his mouth from hers. He spoke through
gritted teeth. “I’m going to come. Are you there, sugar?”

And that was enough to set her off. “Yes.
Yes
.”

Light sparked and flashed behind her closed
eyelids. Her entire body shuddered with her release and, at that most perfect
place where their bodies connected, she convulsed with joy, inner muscles
contracting around his erection, clasping him tight. She felt his penis grow
even thicker, felt it pulsate as he gave three final, protracted thrusts.

She opened her eyes.

He had his back arched, arms straight and taut on
either side of her head, fingers digging into the mattress. The tendons of his
throat stood out in stark relief, his mouth slack in an extended groan, his
face a portrait of exquisite agony. Sweat glistened on his face and chest.

He was so gorgeous.

With one final grunt of pleasure, he collapsed on
top of her, his mouth buried against her throat.

She felt residual tremors of their mutual release
as she smoothed her hands up his back. She loved the feeling of his complete
surrender to her embrace, the way he relaxed into her, so trustingly. His penis
was still rock hard inside of her. His hips nudged forward slightly, as if on
their own accord, reluctant to pull away.

This was what she had dreamed about the most,
this feeling of oneness, this surrender of oneself to another. The cliché was
true. For a few rapturous moments, she’d felt like they were the only two
people in the world. She pressed a lingering kiss to his temple.

He stirred. He gave one last, gentle thrust of
his hips then reached between them to grab the base of the condom before drawing
carefully out of her body. He kissed her cheek, a tender caress of gratitude,
before sliding off of her. He rolled to the edge of the bed and stood. “I’ll be
right back,” he murmured as he headed for the bathroom.

Still in the lush stupor of afterglow, she languidly
watched his retreating figure, admiring the play of sleek back muscles, the
sculpted buttocks, thighs and legs. After he stepped into the bathroom, she
reached down to touch herself between her legs.

She was a virgin no more.

There was only a slight feeling of soreness
inside. It was more a pleasurable burn, a tingling reminder of his fullness and
hot possession. Her inner thigh muscles ached a little, unused to being
stretched and pounded the way they’d been. She dipped her fingers into her
vagina, feeling the still warm juices of her own arousal and orgasm. She wished
she could have felt what sex was like with no artificial barriers between his
body and hers. But, in spite of the condom, his erection had felt amazing. She
imagined it would feel even more spectacular naked. Bare skin against bare
skin, the hot gush of his ejaculation hitting her cervix…