Good Girl(36)

"Should I use my mouth too?"

"Fuck, no," he says and his cock jerks in my hand.

Oh. My hand pauses, unsure, until he covers mine with his own and increases the pressure, continues the rotation of strokes up and down. Squeezing harder, moving faster, twisting our wrists together.

"Not now. Anytime but right now."

"Okay." I smile at him and try to rub myself on his thigh because I don't really want his cock in my mouth right now either. I want him to move this to the next step.

This time he does.

He spreads my thighs and kneels between them, placing a pillow under my hips.

Oh, God, this is happening. My chest rises and falls with my breathing as Rhys positions me, hooking my spread thighs over his arms, pinning me wide open. He rubs his palms down the insides of my thighs then positions himself at my entrance. I can feel the head of his cock at my folds, I can see everything too, with the way he's arranged us. I scrunch my eyes shut and hold my breath as he makes a noise, a combination of a laugh and an exhale.

"Relax, Lydia."

"Yeah, okay." I exhale and open my eyes. I wiggle my hips on the pillow. I'm relaxed.

He taps the head of his cock against me, like a slap. I like that. I clench and he must like that because he groans, his eyes on the spot where he's attempting to join us. He smooths his hands across my thighs again, the gesture comforting. Then he circles my clit with his thumb and it feels so good. It feels wonderful, until he notches the head of his cock inside of me and I tense again, breath held.

"Relax, Lydia," Rhys repeats himself, his jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tense.

The thing is, I really want this, I do. But also I never purposely hurt myself and I don't see any way around this hurting. He slides the head of his cock in and then out again and I'm so slick and wet and ready that it doesn't hurt, it feels like I want more, but when he pushes farther I tense. My shoulders, my legs, my everything.

I am the worst hooker in the history of hookering.

"I'm—"

Sorry, is what I'm about to say but I don't get that far because Rhys pinches the inside of my thigh, hard. And when he does that it's like all of my nerve endings focus on that one spot and I can't focus on tensing anywhere else so I don't, I relax and focus on that bite of pain on my thigh and in that moment of distraction he thrusts into me with one rough jab of his hips and he's in, he's in, and holy fuck that hurts. Distraction or not, that hurts. Like a tear, like I'm being split in half and it burns and he's so deep and he's tensed over me, not moving, breathing hard, holding himself still, waiting on me to do something, I think, but I'm not sure what or how I feel and I think I might cry so I cover my face with my hands.

He lets go of my legs, leaning over me and bracing himself on his forearms next to my head, the movement altering the angle of my hips and the way he feels inside of me and—oh, God—is that better or worse? I'm not sure. He moves my hands and kisses my temple.

"Are you okay?"

"I don't know." Maybe?

"Am I hurting you?"

"Yes!" Duh.

"Fuck." He starts to move, immediately lifting off of me, easing out of me.

"No!" I sling my arm around his neck and pull him back to me. "Don't go. It's a normal hurt. I think. I have no idea."

His lips twitch into a smile, though there's tension near his eyes as if it's paining him to go this slow, to hold this still.

"Tell me what it feels like."

"What this feels like, right now?"

"Yes. Please," he adds and it's both a demand and a plea. He kisses my jaw and the movement causes another slight adjustment to positioning, another tiny new sensation to adjust to.

"What it feels like to have you inside of me?" I flush saying it. I can feel the color cover my cheeks as the words leave my mouth.

"Yes, exactly that. Tell me."

"Like you're breaking me, but also like I might like it."

He looks fascinated by my responses. His eyes flickering across my face. His gaze intent.

"Full. It feels really full. It feels hot and tight and pinchy. Is pinchy a word? It feels like stretching after a long run, and achy. But it also feels good. The full feeling is really nice, like I have no idea how I ever lived without feeling it." I move my hands to his hips and run them along his skin, my fingers gripping his ass while I wiggle beneath him, adjusting to the penetration and realizing the pain has subsided into a dull ache, but also into a needy ache. Like I might want something more.

"What else?" he prompts. He kisses the corner of my mouth, a soft brush of his lips, and I don't know why that makes me hot but it does.

"It feels like pressure. Like all this pressure is there building or pulsating. Can I say pulsating? And like I might want you to move?" It's a question-slash-statement because I'm not entirely sure. "Not off of me!" I add, gripping his hips tighter in my hands, afraid I've just given bad directions. "Not off of me. In me." I buck my hips as much as I can from my position beneath him.

Rhys holds my head in his hands and kisses me—a long, wet kiss filled with tongues and nips along my bottom lip—and then he eases off, back to his knees, still buried inside of me as he repositions my spread thighs over his, his forearms under my knees supporting me and keeping me wide open.