Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 111165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
This is the Laz that I always should have known.
“But this is the start of the evening of a thousand orgasms,” he says. “It’s not just a clever name. I’m going to make you come in my mouth and you’re going to come fucking hard.”
I swallow hard. Good lord, his words…
But I can be direct too.
“I want to come with you inside me.”
“Jesus,” he says harshly, more to himself. “You can’t say things like that Marina or I’m going to lose it.”
“Come inside me,” I say again, finding courage, finding strength, fueled by this urgent need for intimacy, for Laz to have me as no other man has.
“Sweet, sweet girl,” he whispers to me as he starts crawling over me, “you’re going to ruin me, aren’t you?”
“Pretty sure you’ll ruin me first.”
“I’ll go slow,” he says, running his hands up my sides until they cup my breasts. “Don’t worry about the sheets.”
But that’s not at all what I meant. At all. My vibrators may not be as oversized as Laz is, but I have used them consistently and in many different ways. I’m pretty sure there will be none of the usual hymen-blasting signs of sex afterward. I mean, I’m a virgin but I’m not sixteen. I have a sex drive. I have fantasies. Needs. Wants. I’m more than ready.
The real question is whether Laz will ruin me in the long run. We’ve already stepped over that fuzzy grey line that separated friends from lovers. I’ll go as far as to say that line was crossed when we went out on our first date. But after this, the biggest lines of all, I don’t think there is any going back.
I’m not just about to have sex with Laz.
I’m about to lose my virginity to him.
Something that’s been shameful, a burden, like the opposite of a Scarlet letter. I’m not a whore but I’m too far gone on the other side. Too innocent, too good, too perfect. And deep down, too damaged and fucked up. It’s a complicated cross I’ve had to bear and unless you’re a twenty-nine-year-old virgin, then you don’t really know how heavy that cross is.
And now it’s almost all over. Once I give that to Laz, he’ll be imprinted in me in more ways than one. In some ways, I should have just fucked someone else a long time ago, because the first time I slept with Laz was going to be heavy anyway.
But that moment is long gone. And now I’m giving myself to him, a man I’m in love with, a man I hope will carry my heart with his for as long as he can.
If things fall apart after this…
“You okay?” Laz asks above me, a lock of dark hair falling across his forehead. His arms are propped up on either side of my head, his hips pressed against my thighs, his legs parting my legs. His cock is hard as concrete, pressing down against me.
“I’m okay,” I manage to say, giving him a small smile.
“If I’m hurting you…”
“If I don’t like it, I’ll make you stop.” I pause. “Condom?”
Please don’t make me pull out Jane’s.
“Right,” he says, sounding sheepish.
He gets off of me and picks up his pants from the floor and immediately I feel bereft at his absence. I also feel silly because there I am pretty much fully clothed on the bed while he’s buck naked, his firm, gorgeous ass facing mine. I want to bite it so bad.
While his back is turned, I pull my dress over my head and now I’m completely naked. At least the position is flattering. And flattening.
He turns around and stops in his tracks once he sees me. I swear I see his cock move, get even harder. I fight the urge to run my hands down between my legs and touch myself, even though I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. Maybe another night.
What if there isn’t another night? that nagging voice pops up in my head. What if this is it?
But that voice can shut the fuck up right now.
“You’re something to write about,” he whispers, voice choked in awe. “Look at you. Look at how absolutely perfect you are.”
I give him a shaky smile. “You’d write a poem about me?”
A quiet intensity comes over his eyes. “I’ve written countless poems about you. But I don’t share them. They’re all in one tattered notebook at home.”
I blink. Oh my god. There’s a secret Marina book?
“They’re not even in your published book?”
He gives his head a tiny shake. “No,” he says softly. “Those words are about us, for us. They’re too intimate for anyone else.”
My heart is doing that thing again, swelling like a balloon, threatening to burst.
All this time…
Laz tears the foil packet in his hands, the sound bringing me back to what’s about to happen and I watch with big eyes as he takes the condom and slips it on with the kind of precision I don’t want to know about. It goes over his piercings with ease.