Page 177 of The Faking Game

“I won’t regret this.” I work his zipper down. “You have to trust me.”

He’s already hard, granite in my hand, and he groans at my touch. I run my thumb over his damp head.

“I want my first time to be without a condom. I’m on birth control. Have been for years, and, well… you know I haven’t been with anyone else.”

In the weeks since the first lesson, since he asked me all those questions, I’ve thought about it. Touched myself to the thought of it.

“Fucking hell.” West takes a deep breath, like he’s collecting himself. “Do you remember what I told you? All those weeks ago?”

“To always put a man through his paces.”

“That’s right.” His hips tilt forward, and his cock twitches in my hand. Eager, hard. Big. There’s no way it’ll all fit, and I can’t wait to try. “What else did I say?”

“To ask for proof before I let a man come inside me,” I say. “Well, Calloway? Where’s your proof?”

“I had my yearly health check-up two months before you came to New York. Haven’t been with anyone but you since,” he says. “I can show you the paperwork.”

“That’s awesome.”

He tuts and strokes a reverent finger down the length of my pussy. “You should look at the paperwork. Men will say anything, do anything to get the privilege of being inside you.”

“Except you.”

“Especially me,” he mutters. He kisses me, his body braced above mine. The linen of his shirt is just a bit scratchy against my bare stomach, and the slide of his erection against my inner thigh is everything. I’m wet. I can feel it, embarrassingly, disastrously, dripping down my leg. “This shouldn’t hurt. We’ve practiced, warmed you up. If it does hurt, even a little, you tell me.”

“I’ll tell you.”

“Good girl.” West slides a strong arm beneath me, and then he’s rolling us over. He settles me over him.

“I don’t know how to be on top,” I say, like there’sanyposition I’m good at. I’ve never tried a single one. But I thought he would be the one to handle it.

“I know, sweetheart. But you control the pace this way.” He reaches down and grips himself. He looks so big from this angle, and even though I’ve craved it, wanted it, a tendril of nerves snakes through me.

West drags the thick head along my folds, and we both stop breathing. Watch him do it, coating himself, and it’s several agonizing seconds before he notches himself at my entrance.

I brace my hands against his chest, feel the burn in my thighs. “That’s it,” he grinds out, hand gripping the base of his cock. “Sink down on me.”

It’s impossible at first. A puzzle piece that won’t fit. His head is broader than the vibrator, and it won’t work. We’ve tried so hard, and it won’t work. But then he changes the angle slightly, and something suddenly gives.

I slide down an inch.

The stretch burns faintly, like the toy, like his fingers.

“You’re doing so well. Breathe for me.” His praise sends a rush of heat through me, and I push down another inch. And then another. The stretch grows almost uncomfortable, but I?—

West’s hands turn into an iron grip on my hips. “Slow down, baby.” He looks at where we’re joined. He drags his wet thumb over my clit in hard circles. “Be a good girl and just breathe for me. Can you do that?”

My knees grind down into the blanket, my fingers relaxing the grip on his linen shirt. And I slide down another inch. And then another, until I can feel the metal of his zipper against the curve of my ass.

“That’s it… Look at that. You’re taking all of me.”

I draw another shaky breath. The fullness inside is strange, all-consuming, thought-ending. I feel stretched full. It’s not entirely comfortable, but it’s not bad, either, and there’s a low ache pooling in my stomach.

He brushes over my clit again. “Look at your pretty pussy,” he mutters, “stretched around me. How does it feel?”

“I feel full,” I say.

“Keep breathing.”

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