Page 9 of Lovesick
“Do you have a condom?”
Crew rummages around blindly for something in his nightstand before procuring the coveted contraceptive, and since he’s still on all fours above me, I use my position to roll the latex over his throbbing cock.
I’m about to say something—probably idiotic—to fill the silence, but he takes initiative, bending down to mesh our lips together in a breath-stealing kiss. An aurora borealis of color bursts behind my eyelids, and as cliché as it sounds, I feel like I’m floating. All the school-related stress and parent-related worry have since fallen from my shoulders, no longer weighing me down or occupying my thoughts. Right now, all that exists is me and Crew, and I want to hang on to this feeling for as long as I can.
The kiss is, dare I say it,life-changing. Bursting with fireworks of passion and reverence that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to replicate with anyone else. I follow his every move with undying devotion, letting our tongues graze in a choreographed dance, and the moment he pulls my lower lip between his teeth, I’m two seconds away from pouncing on this man and riding him like a prize-winning racehorse.
With my cunt spread and ready for the taking, Crew dragshis cockhead against my dripping entrance, barely applying any pressure.
“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he whispers, hugging me close to his front before slowly, methodically slipping past my tight ring of muscle until he’s a quarter sheathed. He possessively cradles my back with one arm—his jaw tucked into the pocket of my neck—and I watch as he undulates his hips to bury himself deeper.
I hiss in pain, gripping the life out of the sheets, a searing sensation cresting in my lower abdomen. I’m glad I came earlier, otherwise he’d be sliding down a waterslide without any water.
While my previous orgasm lubricates his shaft, I can’t imagine taking another inch of him as my inner walls stretch to lengths I didn’t even know were humanly possible.
He stills, his tone dripping with concern. “Are you okay?”
Physically? Yes. Mentally? Panicking.
I nod because I don’t trust my fat trap not to make some out-of-pocket comment about his penis size. “I’m okay.”
Tentatively, Crew pushes in a few more inches—careful not to augment the discomfort—and after what feels like a century, he buries himself to the hilt as his balls tap against my ass. I can feel him pressing against my cervix, the ten-ton pressure stunting my efforts to move.
He uncoils from his protective embrace, setting my back gently against the mattress. Then he rolls his hips once, twice, to gauge my pain levels. “Does it hurt, or can I keep going like this?”
Some of the adrenaline finally catches up to me, and the pleasure outweighs anything else standing between me, him, and getting the dicking of a lifetime. I grit my teeth, mentally prepare myself for an all-out ruination, and give him the go-ahead with an enthusiastic buck upwards.
“Keep going.Please.”
Crew starts at a lukewarm pace, thrusting inside me in a consistent sequence, the blunt tip of his dick hitting my cervix harder each time. The way his cock strokes my walls stokes the skyscraping fire residing in my belly, and I latch my fingernails onto his back, claiming my stake in sun-kissed skin. Squelches and breathy moans marinate in the quietude of the bedroom.
“I was made for you, Merit. Look at you, milking every inch of me with your perfect pussy. I didn’t think you’d have anything left in you after I tongue-fucked your brains out earlier, but you just keep surprising me.”
I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or a complaint.
“Faster,” I order, chasing after a dimly lit spark and hoping it catches flame, hungering for Crew to fuck me like we’re rabid animals.
I know he’s trying to be gentle with me—and I can’t believe I’m saying this—but I don’t want him to be. Everyone’s always gentle with me. I want to bleed, to bruise, tohurt. I want to remember what it feels like to be treated as if I’m invincible.
“Is someone impatient?” he taunts, lowering his head before sucking my earlobe into his mouth.
I suppress a moan. “You’re holding back.”
“I’m a gentleman, not an animal.”
“I don’t want you to be either. I want you to beyou,” I tell him, my hands migrating from his shoulder blades to the scruff of his hair. I tether them in the strands, running my nails across his scalp and loving when I fish a contented moan out of him. Docile. Purring like one mean, deadly lion in my lap.
He pops off my earlobe, staring at me with a drowsy look in his eyes and a dopey smile tugging at his lips. It’s almost as if he’s drunk, but I know for a fact that he’s not. I can’t place it. It’s like he’s mesmerized by me or something.
A note of surprise rings in his voice. “Yeah?”
Certainty blankets me like an eerily familiar calm, banishing the tiny voice of worry in the back of my mind. Myracing heart slows, the built-in anxiety takes a much-appreciated break, and the pain is nothing but a faint buzz.
“Yeah.”
This time, Crew doesn’t hold back. He’s emboldened to speed up the pace, and with each punishing plow into my pussy, the momentum has my tits recoiling and my spine bouncing against the bed. Tears gather at the corners of my eyes, but I blink to keep them at bay, instead focusing on the warmth unspooling in the tight clutches of my stomach. With each push and pull of his cock, I cry for more, feeling how slick the suction is between us—how easily he slides in and out, barely leaving my heat.
Vertigo claws at the edges of my vision as beads of sweat stick to every exposed surface of my body, and my cunt hollows in pulses around Crew’s length.
