Page 97 of Faking It With the Small-Town Bad Boy

chest, but it’s useless, he stops at my words. Brushing my hair back,

he looks for some sign of permission from me, but I’m far too rattled

to collect my thoughts so fast. When I do, I pant out, “Should we use

a condom?”

He purses his lips sideways, looking around the garage like he

doesn’t have one.

Then again, why would he?

“I’m on birth control,” I squeak. “That should be enough, right?”

He smiles slightly, kissing my cheek. “Only if you say it is.”

I bite my bottom lip. Birth control isn’t perfect, but the intensity of

this moment has my mind in such a squabble that I can’t recall if I’ve

taken it perfectly in the last few weeks. Even if I have, the chance

remains that something could happen, but I’m recklessly in need.

“It’s fine,” I say, semi-firm in my tone. “Let’s do it.”

He nods, slowly lining his rod back up to the helm of my pussy. It’s

only now that I realize the daunting length of his cock, my heart

flopping around aimlessly in my chest. He inches forward, filling me

with just the tip, but it’s enough to make me feel like he can’t go

much further.

“Ah, ah,” I pant, rattled.

“You okay, darling?”

“Yes, it’s just… a lot.”

He nods, slowing his hips while his hands plant on either side of the

hood. I rest my thighs against his hips, taking his movement at a

snail's pace and with a warm glow on my face. It’s nearly impossible

to handle his size all at once, so his slow pace is certainly helpful. It’s

enough to bring stars to my eyes while I cling to his shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” I pant.

“Why are you apologizing?” he gusts. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No! No, not at all.”

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