Page 97 of Rule 2: Never Join a Christmas Dating Show
I pause, and my heart beats madly. Luke is being diplomatic. I’m half his size down there. But that’s not what makes my hands stop moving and makes the temperature of the room surge, controlled by his words and not the thermostat.
“You have plans for that?” I ask, making sure I heard correctly.
He frowns. “I mean, yeah.” He chews on his bottom lip. “Though maybe you could go slowly because I don’t have, um, experience down there.”
“I assumed you wouldn’t want it...”
“And then you could never experience entering me?” His mouth forms an O, and I want to kiss him so badly.
“That’s how a lot of men feel,” I say.
“Not me,” he says firmly, and my heart soars.
If we were together, it wouldn’t matter either way. I would want to be with him even if all we did was hold each other in the bed and feel our nerve endings say hello to each other.
I don’t push him to make promises he might not want to keep. But my heart still surges because I’ve never met a sweeter man.
But we’re not together, and tonight might be all we have before he becomes a memory, fading into a vision, until I’m not quite sure what the sound of his voice is like, and it becomes harder and harder for me to remember the exact feel of his touch, and he becomes a dream man that I wonder if I really had.
I won’t make tonight sad though.
“I’m going to make you feel so good,” I whisper to him.
“You already have,” he whispers back.
“One moment.” I scramble from his legs, smiling at his distraught look, and go to my bag. I take out some pre-packaged lube and squeeze it onto my palm and start to prepare myself.
“Come here,” Luke says. “I can do that.”
I must look surprised because his eyes soften. He scoots closer to the end of the bed, resting against the headboard, then gestures for me to join him.
I approach him, still unsure.
“I really can do it...” I say.
“And take that pleasure away from me?” He takes my hand and pulls me toward him, then he ushers me onto his lap. My belly presses against his cock, and I lay over him, perpendicular to the bed. My cock presses against his legs, and my heart beats as he spreads my cheeks.
I tense because he’s only been with women. And I’ve slept with inexperienced so-called straight men before. I’ve heard them talk about how a hole is a hole and seen how they avoided my cock. They wouldn’t have wanted to touch me down there. Not with their fingers. Stretching and preparing is something they’re not accustomed to and that they’re vaguely horrified by.
But I guess Luke doesn’t see things the same way. He’s not telling me that I resemble a woman in the dark. Every light is on. He’s not telling me he heard that gay men give the best blow jobs and that he always wanted to try for himself.
Nervousness moves away from me. Maybe whatever happens will be fine. Calm fills me. I’m not contorting my fingers into strange positions behind me, trying to stretch and prepare myself as hastily as I can, wondering why I didn’t wear a plug to lessen the inconvenience for him.
I’m being taken care of. He runs his fingers over the curve of my bottom with something that feels like reference, then he presses the pad of his finger against my hole.
My nerve endings explode.
Luke is here.
“You like that, baby?” He whispers, his voice so soft it could be my imagination or a memory.
I nod frantically. He takes the lube from my palms, and smears it onto his own hand, then he inserts the tip of his finger into me.
Luke is inside me.
Just his finger.
But his finger is amazing, just like all of Luke is amazing. He moves it deeper and deeper, delving inside fearlessly.
