Total pages in book: 188
Estimated words: 179812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 899(@200wpm)___ 719(@250wpm)___ 599(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 179812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 899(@200wpm)___ 719(@250wpm)___ 599(@300wpm)
You know what it is though? It’s painful.
It’s so fucking painful that my body jerks and my back bows. My head gets thrown back and the moan that comes out of my mouth, that rips out of my lungs like he just ripped through my virginity, sounds like something that comes out of a wounded animal. Because that’s what I am, aren’t I? I am wounded. My pussy is all bruised and broken and oh my God, bleeding. I can feel the blood ooze out. I can feel it. I can feel it running down my thighs. Just like I can feel him.
Inside of me.
So big and thick. Throbbing and threatening and oh my God, why didn’t he tell me? Why didn’t he say in clear, exact words that Jupiter, if I take your virginity up against a tree or anywhere really, you will die. If he had told me that I never would’ve said yes. I never ever would’ve said yes to this… torture and I want to stop. I want to stop, stop, stop. I want him to get out. Out, out, out.
Until.
Until he shushes me. Until I feel his chest shudder against mine and realize he’s shaking. His big, hard body is shivering. Not the way it did before but in a different way. In a way where it makes me think he’s in pain. He’s hurting. Probably because he wants to move. Isn’t that what guys always want? They want to move inside a tight, hot virgin pussy, but he isn’t.
Instead, he’s hugging me.
Or more like, making me burrow inside his body. He’s got his big hand on the back of my head and his other arm around my waist. And he’s pressing my forehead into the side of his neck where I can feel his pulse going and going. I feel his skin sweating. And then I hear him say in my ear, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you, baby.”
I clutch his shoulders then, my breaths trembling, my pussy all stretched out and hurting. “I… It’s… I don’t…”
“It’s my fault,” he says, squeezing his arm around me. “It’s me.”
“You’re so… b-big.”
At my words, his dick pulses inside of me and I moan with pain again. With the stretch. And he presses my forehead into his neck even more. “It hurts, yeah?”
A tear streams down my cheek. “Yes. I don’t think I can—”
“You can,” he cuts me off. Before I can protest, he tilts his face to the side, his stubble scraping against my cheek and his mouth brushing against my ear as he says, “Because you were made for me.”
My heart skips a beat. “I don’t think that’s—"
“Shh, it’s okay. Just breathe with me, okay? Can you do that?”
“Y-yes.”
“Okay, okay, good,” he says. “Together.”
And then he proceeds to coach me through it. One breath in, one breath out, and repeat. In and out, in and out, our chests moving in tandem to each other, the air from his lungs mingling with the air in mine. Slowly but steadily.
Which is when I realize I was too quick to judge. All my friends were right. This is the way to do it. Because I don’t think anyone has taken such care with me before. Such slow and tender, intense care where we breathe as one, where we exist as one. Where nothing exists but him and me and our bodies and our breaths. Where all I can feel is his heat, his scent.
Him inside of me.
“You’re doing so good,” he whispers, still breathing with me.
“I-I am?”
“Yeah,” he grates, kissing my ear, stroking my scalp. “You’re being so good for me. So fucking good.”
My pussy pulses again, and it’s painful but it doesn’t seem so bad now. “You t-think so?”
“Fuck yeah,” he says in the same tone, his fingers starting to work his magic, his dick throbbing again. “You’re being so brave right now.”
Another tear streams down my face as my belly flutters at his praise. “I don’t feel b-brave.”
“You are, baby. You’re being so fucking brave, taking me like this. Letting me inside you. And you know what else?”
“What?”
“You feel so fucking good too,” he says with a moan.
“I do?”
“Uh-huh,” he continues. “You’re making it throb so fucking hard.”
“W-what?”
“My dick,” he says. “The vein on the underside of it.”
“There’s a v-vein on the…”
“There is, yeah,” he tells me. “And every time you’re close, it fucking throbs like a maniac.”
I lick my lips, fascinated. “You mean like, m-my pulse. On my neck.”
“Yeah. Just like that,” he says. “And you know why it does that?”
“Why?”
“Because I always knew it. I always knew you’d feel like a dream. And you do. You feel like a fucking dream, baby”
“Oh.”
“You know I have dreamed about this, don’t you?” he asks, his tone hypnotic.
“Yes.”
“I have. A million times,” he goes on. “I’ve dreamed about sliding into you. Stretching you out. Stretching out your tight, tight, so fucking tight pussy.”