Page 35 of Good Girl
I hesitate for a moment, wondering whether I should do it or insist we talk about what just happened first. But he doesn’t seem to want to talk, and I don’t know what I’d say to make this situation better anyway.
‘Do it, Juno. I want you to smother me with your pussy,’ he urges. ‘Teach me it’s not okay to speak to you like that.’
Again, I hesitate. It’s not my style to be forceful in bed, but I know that’s something I need to work on, and I want to give him what he’s asking for.
So I shuffle further up the bed on my knees until I’m positioned right above his mouth and dip down to press myself against him. I feel his groan of satisfaction vibrate between my legs and deep into my core, then the powerful thrust of his tongue inside me. I cry out from the pleasure of it. It’s such a lewd, intense feeling, and I find to my surprise that I love the idea of being in control of this, knowing he’s captured beneath me, a prisoner to my whim and my body. The feeling of power is heady and I begin to move with the rhythmic thrust of his tongue.
Sweat pools between my shoulder blades and runs down my spine as his fingers grip my hips and we move together, faster and faster, me using him purely for my own pleasure. Teaching him that I’m on top now. I’m the one in control. That he has to give me what I want.
And oh, God, I think I’m losing my mind. I want this to go on and on and on. But I also want more. I need more. His tongue alone isn’t enough. There’s still an aching void inside me that needs to be filled, to be satisfied. To connect with him.
My trance breaks as I suddenly become aware that his grip on my hips has become harder and more urgent, and I realise to my horror that he’s having trouble breathing.
I jump off him, distraught that I’ve let myself get so carried away. That I’d not noticed I was hurting him.
‘Sandro, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?’ I cup his face and stare into his eyes. ‘I’m so, so sorry!’ I can hear the panic in my voice. I can’t believe I let that happen. That I wasn’t thinking about him at all. Only about myself and my pleasure. And my power over him.
But, instead of looking relieved or angry, he flips me over so I’m now on my back and kneels over me, shaking his head and kissing my cheeks, my forehead, my mouth, to calm me.
‘Never apologise!’ he growls against my skin. ‘Never apologise to me.’
He pulls my dress roughly over my head and lands hard kisses over my breasts and stomach, moving ever downward till he’s back between my legs. He puts a hand under each of my buttocks and lifts me up while bringing his mouth down between my legs again.
‘I worship this pussy. I fucking worship it.’ He hisses against my mound, my clitoris, my vagina. His tongue laves me again, pushing open my folds and expertly finding the spots that give me the most intense pleasure. I buck up towards the touch of his tongue, wanting it harder, deeper.
Sensing my need, he pushes a finger inside me. But it’s still not enough. I ache for more. I need more.
‘Please, Sandro. I want to feel your cock inside me. Please! I need it. Please!’ I beg him through heavy sobs of breath. I’m aware of the desperation in my voice, and it seems he is too, because he stills his motion and raises his head to meet my gaze.
We stare at each other for long moments loaded with unsaid questions and answers.
‘Are you sure?’ he whispers, his eyes intense with a plea for me to be totally honest with him.
‘Yes. I’m sure. I want it. Please, Sandro. I need you to help me. Please just help me out with this.’
This seems to be enough to convince him because he gives a sharp nod, then leans away to open a drawer at the side of the bed and take out a little foil packet.
I watch with wide eyes as he quickly gets undressed then rolls on the condom and moves back to kneel between my thighs, our faces now level and his bright eyes gazing into mine.
‘Ready?’ he whispers, his voice a sweet caress all of its own.
‘Yes. Ready,’ I say, drawing in a steadying breath.
I feel him line up our bodies, then there’s a pressure between my legs which is strange, wonderful and frightening all at once. Then without another word he slowly pushes inside me, bringing with him a sharp pain that makes me wince and ball my fists.
‘Are you okay?’ he murmurs, holding still and stroking his thumb over my cheek in a soothing motion until I feel the pain begin to subside.
‘Yes. I’m great.’ I smile up at him, my head hazy with all the new sensations I’m feeling. And there are many.
He gently draws back out, then pushes into me again with slow, careful strokes, watching my face the whole time, checking my reaction. Checking I’m okay.
And I am okay. More than okay. I’m in heaven. Now the pain has receded, having him inside me feels like magic. It’s the most wonderfully connected state I’ve ever been in. It’s intense, but the sensation both excites and arouses me. Makes me yearn for even more. And then, when he moves his hand to where our bodies connect and presses down firmly on my clitoris, I can’t help but let out a low keening sound of pleasure.
He continues slowly to move inside me until I’m able to match his rhythm, my breath leaving my body in small gasps as he pushes me closer to the edge of the orgasm that’s beginning to grow deep inside me.
Our bodies slide together, moving in perfect sync, and as the pleasure grows, beating a steady, inimitable rhythm inside me, I begin to lose all sense of my surroundings. It just becomes him and me, suspended together in our state of bliss.
And then it breaks over me, my release rushing through my head and flashing in my eyes. For those few seconds, I think I stop breathing.
