Page 56 of The First Kind of Love
“I’ll be so good to you, Sunshine.I promise,” he whispers in between kisses, hands coasting up and down the sides of my waist, the pressure against my belly growing tenfold as Fulton’s erection somehow hardens even more.
My head is all over the place. My attention shifts back and forth between the wetness painting my thighs, the broiling ache in my groin, the cooling state of our combined spit on my ravaged mouth, and the anticipatory upset that singes my stomach lining in the same way a potent shot of alcohol does.
This is it. We’re going to fuck. It’s happening. Holy shit, it’s happening. Stay calm, Shiloh. STAY CALM!
Without warning, Fulton drops into a squat so that he’s level with my pussy, and he latches his teeth on to the pink lace of my thong. Since his head obstructs my line of sight, all I can feel is the subsequent cold hitting my now-exposed skin.
I can’t help but squirm underneath his touch, though I blame anxiety’s unauthorized visit for the self-consciousness over my less-than-stellar appearance. I didn’t have time to shave today, and Idefinitelydidn’t expect the night to end like this. I just don’t want him to be turned off by…you know.
He instructs me to kick off my underwear, and I obey immediately. Now I’m completely nude in front of the one man who could give Michelangelo’sDavida run for its money.
Evening the playing field, Fulton strips off his pants and boxers. His long, thick cock bobs free from its cotton prison, the ruddy, flared head sticky as it rests against my belly. I’ve seen Fulton’s dick before, but it just…it looks scarier this time around.
The length is equivalent to my goddamn forearm, atopography of bluish veins lining his impressive shaft like a breadcrumb trail of tiny detonation points. He’s manscaped everything possible, drawing my attention to the pronounced silhouette of his heavy, hanging balls. I have no idea how he expects to fit inside me. That’s like trying to shove a USB charger into an iPhone charging port.
The one thing Ididn’twant to happen was me overthinking. And now, my mind’s laughing at the sheer inadequacies of my body in comparison to his, and I absentmindedly adjust my legs so that my vagina isn’t just…hanging out…and disgusting him with its hairiness.
Fulton realizes something’s wrong immediately. Not almost immediately—immediately.
“What are you doing?” he questions.
I chew on my lower lip. “I, um, I just didn’t have the chance to shave before…”
He rears back in surprise, but not for the reason I expected. “You’re trying to hide from me because you feel bad for not shaving?”
“Kind of?”
With his hands gripping the backs of my thighs, Fulton glances up at me through his already-tousled hair, neutralizing my anxiety with a single look—a kind, pleading look that almost turns shiny with emotion.
“I never want you to feel like you have to shave for me, okay? Never, Sunshine. I don’t care. Anyrealman wouldn’t care. So you didn’t shave. Do you really think that’s going to stop me from fucking the most perfect pussy in all of existence?”
Before I get the chance to respond—which is probably for the best—Fulton lengthens to a stance, hikes me onto his hips, then carries me over to the bed in two large strides. I don’t think I’ve ever been this naked against him.
He gently sets me on the mattress, and I’m too lost in myown dopamine high to realize that Fulton grabbed something from off the floor. My libido is one degree away from cataclysmic destruction, and if my pussy doesn’t get some stimulation in the next few minutes, I’ll pull the trigger myself.
Through a bleary haze, I watch Fulton dangle my panties off his index finger.
“What are y?—”
“You’ve been a bad girl tonight, Shi. Averybad girl. And do you know what happens to bad girls?” he asks with cold detachment, letting my thong drop onto his erection and catch on the ruddy head of his cock—the one oozing beads of pre-cum and polishing his frenulum in a pearlescent sheen.
I shake my head, finally lucid enough to understand the gravity of the situation. “I don’t.”
Fulton tsks, bunching up the pink lace before wiping it over the glossy cap of his dick. My eyes are glued to the rippling line of his abdominal muscles—how they crunch and strain from the position he’s in. I need to taste him. I want to push him onto his back, straddle his hips, and lick up the sweat that’s accumulated since we stumbled into our hotel room.
But that’s something only agood girlgets to do.
“They get punished.”
Fulton keeps his salacious gaze on me the entire time, as if he’s peeling back layers upon layers of my skin until he reaches the fiery core that burnsonlyfor him. A second later, my underwear is thrown onto the bed.
“I want your hands behind your back, I want you belly up, I want your knees bent, and I want your pussy spread all the way open for me,” he demands.
I do as he says—my hands tucked between my spine and the surface of the mattress—and then I spread my legs so that he can get a direct look at the pathetic, weeping state of my neglected cunt. My walls clench around nothing, overeager to have any kind of stimulation.
Fulton groans, rubbing a lazy hand over his dick, wringing bits of pressure with the torque of his wrist. “Fucking hell. Look at you, Sunshine. You lookdecadent.”
After a solid minute of him gawking, he leans over me with his arms bracketing either side of me, and the monster between his legs drags over the comforter. “Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to stuff your mouth with your panties, and then I’m going to lick your sweet, tight little cunt. If you try to move your hands, or if you try to speak, I’ll stop immediately. Do you understand?”
