For the First Time: Twenty-One Brand New Stories of First Love (36 page)

He licks his lips and halts. When he releases his cock, it bounces, lightly striking my clit, and I cry with delight at the sensation. He closes my fingers around the shaft and then wraps his hand around mine. Together we work him. He shows me how hard to grip him (hard!) and where to twist (at the top!) and how to cup his balls (carefully!).

His eyes narrow to tiny slits, flitting from my face to his cock and back again. The heat of his skin scorches my palm, as if his blood is boiling underneath the surface. Our palms are slick with his arousal, with the sweat of our exertion, and it’s just enough friction, slick heat, and pressure to make him bow his back and come.

The milky white seed spurts onto my pubis and onto my stomach and even around the upper curve of my breast. He swallows hard, and his eyes glitter with wanton possession.

He lets go of my hand and spreads his large palm on my tummy. “You’re mine now,” he growls, and I shiver at the crudity of his words.

In this context, in this moment, they are sweeter than any compliment. I move to tug him down, to feel the full weight of his body pressing mine into the cushions, but he resists.

“We’re moving on to phase two,” he says, and gets to his feet. I struggle to push up to my elbows.

“Phase two?” The orgasm has fried my brain.

“Phase two is me fucking you until you don’t remember anything but my name.” He leans down and picks me up in his arms. Again, I’m struck at how strong Wyatt is. He doesn’t huff and puff as he carries me down the hall. He doesn’t shift my weight from arm to arm. It’s as if carrying me is as easy as lifting a five-pound bucket of nails.

When we reach the bedroom, he throws me onto the bed and then looks around. His penis bobs between us as if he hadn’t just come. I stare at it in amazement.

“How can you still be erect?” I ask, propping myself up on an elbow. “Is that scientifically possible?”

“Around you? Apparently so.” He absently rubs himself. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?” I don’t want him to go. I’m hot and achy and the release he gave me feels like it was ten centuries ago. I haven’t had him inside me yet and I need him there. “I don’t want you to leave.”

“I need a condom, sweetheart.” He leans down and kisses me. Momentarily, I forget everything including my name until he lets me up for air.

“Have you really not had sex for five years?” I place a hand on his arm to prevent him from going.

“Really.” He nods abruptly as if his long period of abstinence is a painful memory.

“I’m on the pill. For medical reasons,” I hurriedly explain at his frown.

His arm trembles beneath my hand. “You sure?”

“Absolutely. 100%.” I raise my two thumbs.

He grins ruefully. “It won’t be. I’m going to come in about five seconds because this is a fantasy I’ve been jerking off to for about five years now, but I’ll make it up to you.” He positions himself between my legs and then positions the tip right at my swollen, sensitive entrance. “I’ve thought about this a million times, but it hasn’t prepared me for how good it feels just to kneel between your legs.”

I look at him through my lashes. “I’ve dreamt about this a million times, but nothing is like the real thing. You here, touching me with so much love and tenderness, makes me wonder if I’m still dreaming.”

His hard face softens, and his hand comes up to cup my face. “It’s no dream, sweetheart. And I do love you. I always have. Always will.”

Tears come to my eyes as he slides inside me. “I love you, Wyatt. I was born loving you. I’ll die loving you.”

He presses his hips forward, pinning me with his body and with his gaze. I widen my legs, opening for him, and he glides deeper, so deep that he’s touching my heart. Never once does he take his eyes from mine. I roll my hips to meet his thrusts, and he withdraws slowly so I can feel his thick, ridged head cock every nerve ending in my pussy.

His arms shake by my head with his effort to keep in control, to make it perfect for me. But I don’t need that. I want his wildness, his roughness, his unquenched desire. I scrape my fingers down his back until they stop at his ass. And then, based on something I read, I slide just the tip of my index finger into that private place of his.

His eyes widen and his nostrils flare and his hips jack into mine with a force that surprises us both. He growls—deep, needy, and low. There’s no escaping him. He powers into me, swiveling his hips, driving against my pubic bone, rubbing against my clit, stroking me with power and passion until I can do nothing but cling to him as the tidal wave of sensation crashes over my head and takes me under.

He reads my body, or my face, and lets loose his own fragile control and thrusts into me with mindless pleasure, and those thrusts and his abandon sweep me over the edge once again.

H
e slumps contentedly
against my chest. “Give me a moment, and then I’ll get up and get you a towel.”

“I can’t move anyway,” I mumble.

Somewhere, Wyatt finds the strength to heave himself off me and stumble into the bathroom. As promised, he returns with a towel and a wet washcloth and proceeds to clean me up.

“Why have we waited so long to act on this?” It’s almost a rhetorical question because the answer is probably me and my unwillingness to change the status quo for so long.

“We were both afraid of losing something important. I realized as soon as I broke up with Holly that you were the one for me. And despite you trying to get me to sleep with every single woman in a five-mile radius, I didn’t want anyone but you.” Wyatt tucks the towel under my ass. “You’re my best friend. When I think of home, I think of you. I can’t imagine growing old without you right by my side, but I never thought you wanted me for anything more than a friend.” He slides a strand of hair behind my ear. “And if friendship was all I’d ever have from you, then I’d take that because something was better than nothing at all.”

“But you never said anything.”

“I’ve tried to, but you’d only tell me that you weren’t interested. That you didn’t want to be tied down. That marriage was for suckers. You bought a chair so you wouldn’t have to sit on the sofa next to me. You kept encouraging me to hit on other women.”

I wince because I did say and do all those things. “I said all that because I never believed I could get what I wanted.”

“And that is?” he asks with an arched brow.

“You, of course.” I twist his nipple to pay him back for making me say it.

He rolls me over and swats me on the ass.

“Tomorrow, we’re buying you a plug and you’re going to wear it all day.” He caresses my round cheeks.

“Why?” Not that I’m protesting. I’d do anything he suggests.

“Because I want to fuck you right here.” He provides delicious payback for my earlier exploration by shoving his thumb into the sensitive ring of tissue. I gasp into the pillows. “And the plug will prepare you. It will make you hot.”

“I dunno.”

“Tilt your hips up, baby.” He groans. “God, I wish you could appreciate what I’m seeing right now. Your glorious ass is so round and tight. Your pussy is dripping, you are so excited.” He positions himself at my opening and slides right in, his passage lubricated by my excitement and his. This time it’s much more leisurely.

He fondles my breasts and my clit almost absentmindedly. “We need to find a new place. Maybe over by your sister’s place. Big backyard. A pool would be nice,” he muses. “Our apartments are too small.”

“Why didn’t you move before?”

“Because I didn’t want to be away from you,” he says simply as if there is no other answer.

I slump against the mattress because his revelations are too much for me to take in. He’s loved me for so long. As long as I’ve loved him. But because we were afraid of losing each other, neither was willing to make a change. For a while, the half life we’d been living was enough.

“I wouldn’t have moved either, you know,” I tell him. His arms tighten around me when I share that. “Even if I had looked at other places, none of them would have felt right because you weren’t there with me.”

He places a soft kiss on the crown of my head. “I think we should get married at Christmas. Your parents will be back. It’s six weeks away, and that’ll give you enough time to find everything you need.”

“Married?” The languid sensation that’s overtaken me because of his slow and measured dicking is making it difficult for me to process his words.

“You’re going to make an honest man out of me, aren’t you?” He teases. “I won’t be able to look in your Dad’s eye knowing how I’m defiling you on a regular basis without a ring around your finger.”

“I just didn’t realize you wanted to marry me,” I squeak.

“Yeah, because guys who aren’t in love with their best friends don’t have sex for five years. That’s normal.” These words are followed by a few forceful thrusts.

“I haven’t had sex in longer,” I gasp out.

He reaches around and covers my mouth. “In my mind, I was your first. I can’t take hearing about Tim Grantland taking your virginity again. It was traumatizing the first time around.”

“For me too,” I say in protest. “He was terrible.”

“I wasn’t sure whether to beat him to a pulp for being bad, or feel grateful that you didn’t want to go back for seconds,” Wyatt licks the nape of my neck.

I shudder at the thought of being manhandled by Tim again. “It turned me off sex for a while, that’s for sure.”

“Which is a fucking shame,” Wyatt informs me. “Because you should always enjoy yourself.”

In the middle of a stroke, my stomach growls.

Wyatt sighs and slides out of me. I turn over and grab for him. “Don’t go.”

He squeeze my hand. “It’s okay. We’ve all night and the rest of our lives. Let’s go get some food.”

I lick my lips. Food does sound good. My stomach growls again, and I give up the pretense of not being hungry. Wyatt strolls nude into the kitchen, but I throw on his t-shirt. It’s so domestic and wonderful that it’s hard not to break out in song and dance. I manage to control myself as we make up a huge cheese, cracker, and salami plate. I throw on some grapes, and we hustle back to the bedroom.

The clock says it’s nine, which means it’s half-time. Instinctively, I turn on the game, causing Wyatt to laugh.

“What?”

“The guys are going to be so damn jealous.” He lifts a hank of my hair and presses a kiss against my shoulder, but he doesn’t turn off the television.

As the game goes by, Wyatt fingers me. It’s not easy to pay attention or care about the game, even though one of our friends is on television, playing ball. I can hear how wet I am as Wyatt slides his fingers in and out of me.

“We’re never going to Mulligan’s again.”

“Why?” I gasp when he flicks his thumb against my clit.

“Because this is the best way to watch the game.” He reaches over and moves the tray from the bed to the side table. “You’re not in full control of your limbs right now so I’m going to move the cheese tray over here.” He doesn’t stop stroking me. His eyes are glued to the game, but his fingers work me nonstop until I’m breathless and coming.

With a glint of heat in his eyes, he sticks his fingers in his mouth and sucks them dry. “Best late-night snack ever.”

The phone rings before I can attack him again.

Wyatt answers. “It’s Robert,” he tells me, covering the mouthpiece. “He said he’s been waiting at Mulligan’s for two hours and wants us to get our asses over there. The rest of the gang is there.”

I don’t mind. After all, I’ve come three times. My vagina could use a break. “Okay.”

*     *     *

Mulligan’s is only
two blocks away, but Wyatt holds my hand the whole time. I lean against him, marveling at how beautiful everything looks tonight. The street lamps are shining bright. Even the garbage bags gleam shiny in the darkness.

I can’t stop smiling. Robert takes one look at us and knows. I don’t know how he knows, but he knows. He raises a fist in the air. “Who had five?” he yells.

A whistle goes up in the back. A Mulligan’s regular, Stan McCamp, rushes forward. “Me!” He pounds his fist against his chest. “I had five.”

“You lucky son of a bitch.” Robert slaps him on the back. The rest of the regulars and our friends crowd around, all handing Stan five-dollar bills. By the end, he has nearly $100.

“What the hell?” I ask.

“You two did it, right?” Robert asks, flicking a finger between Wyatt and me.

I press my lips together, but a warm flush creeps up to paint red and ‘guilty’ all over my killer cheekbones. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Wyatt turns to the bartender and puts in an order. Then he slides an arm around my waist. “We’re together now, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Took you long enough.” Robert shakes his head mournfully. “I put in for six months post-graduation. It was obvious you two were meant to be together. I just didn’t realize you were both so dumb as to ignore it.”

“I’m not dumb,” I object. “I graduated summa cum laude.”

“You were about this.” Robert ruffles my hair. Before he can cast any more aspersions on our intelligence, our college buddy Ty Masters intercepts the ball and starts running for the end zone.

Wyatt leans forward, his chin on my shoulder. “First time for everything.”

I harrumph silently. I wasn’t dumb and I didn’t ignore it. We just…delayed the play until we were both ready. And now it’s perfect. Wyatt and I hadn’t been each others’ first, but we’d be each others’ last.

As if he can sense my thoughts, Wyatt curls me closer to rest his chin on the top of my head. “Love you, Lisle Cunningham.”

If the Mulligan folks said I floated the rest of the night, they wouldn’t be wrong.

*     *     *

Want more from Jen Frederick? Meet Knox Masters, a quarterback’s worst nightmare. Warrior. Champion. And… virgin.
Sacked
is available now!

WEBSITE
 |
FACEBOOK
 |
TWITTER
 |
NEWSLETTER