Page 106 of My Debacle with De Lorenzo

He groans. “Yeah, I feel that, too.”

He pushes in a little deeper and his eyebrows pinch together. His body becomes rigid. A firm hand grips my leg, his nails biting into my thigh as if the sensation is utterly overwhelming for him. All I can do is watch him, feel his thickness stretch my skin. I knew his girth could do some damage, but I wasn’t expecting it to be so...uncomfortable.

“Stop...stop for a second.” I place my hand on his chest to halt his movements, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath my palm.

He freezes again. “Sorry. Did I hurt you?”

“It’s just...a little sore. Hang on.” I shift my pelvis, trying to adjust to his size, and a gasp unexpectedly slips out of me when I finally find the right angle. “Oh, that’s better.”

Gripping his hips, I yank him forward, shoving him inside me until he’s buried to the hilt.

A hard fist thumps my pillow, his teeth sinking into my shoulder. The sound that echoes in his throat is strangled. “Fuck...”

My thighs tighten around him because I wasn’t prepared for that either. The feeling is so intense it confuses my emotions and I feel like I’m on the verge of tears. I’m still trying to steady myself when his mouth slams down on mine, eager and greedy for the taste of me. He withdraws and then his hips surge forward. And then again. And again. That last thrust hits a spot I didn’t even know I had. A loud moan fills my bedroom, and he immediately stops, looking at me worriedly.

“What? What happened? Why did you stop?”

“I thought I hurt you.”

“No. That wasn’t a bad moan.”

“Okay. Um...I’m just gonna go a little slower.”

He does. His movements after that are very slow and gentle...and awkward. I just kinda lie there, waiting for him to find a rhythm. After a minute or so, I have to intervene because I want him to go back to the other stuff, the good stuff.

“What, uh, what are you doing?” I ask, broaching the subject as tactfully as I can.

He stops again. “I have no idea. I thought...I was having sex.”

“Yeah, you’re doing it wrong.” There goes tact. “You know when you accidentally drop something and it rolls under the bed, and you don’t want to move the bed, so you just stick your arm under there and blindly tap around until you find it? That’s what your dick is doing inside me. It’s trying to find my G-spot, but it’s just...not.”

“That bad, huh?”

“It’s awful.”

He nods. “Okay. I want you to know these comments have completely negated the rose petals on the bed, but...okay.”

“You were doing...good at first but then you slowed down. Why?”

“Remember, I told you I kinda...lose control when I’m with you. I felt like that was about to happen, and I thought...I might hurt you.”

“Hurt me? Stop thinking about me. Make this about you.” I grab his hand and place it on my breast. “Feel these tits, Dylan. You feel it?” I press my hand over his, forcing him to squeeze, and he groans. “Big, juicy, supple tits. They’re meant to be groped and fondled.” I slide his hand down to my ass. “You feel this fat ass, Dylan?”

His hand squeezes on its own this time. “It’s so fat.”

“Yeah! You ever hear the phrase more cushion for the pushin’? That’s what this ass is for. Do whatever the fuck you want to me. This body can take it.”

Something flashes in his eyes, intrigue mixed with a dangerous level of lust. “Anything I want?”

“Anything.”

“Okay, let’s get rid of this first.”

He tugs my sweatshirt until I lift my arms for him to pull it over my head. Ravenous brown eyes roam over my body. I can sense how badly he wants me, yet he doesn’t act on it. Instead, he withdraws, and all my hopes deflate like a punctured balloon.

He shifts back slightly. “I want you to touch yourself.”

“What?”

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