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“Where do you think you’re going?” he growls.
“I…well, you see, I’ve just never… this is not going to um… work,” I say, well aware of how lame my words sound. I don’t want to tell him that I haven’t had a partner before. I have no idea if he can make me come like this, but I definitely don’t want to give the impression that I don’t know what he’s doing.
That he’s the only one to touch me like this.
Marco pulls back. His lips shine with my moisture, and the sight makes me blush.
“You’ve never come like this, right?”
I shake my head from side to side, embarrassment choking any chance of words off.
“And you think that’s going to stop me from trying?”
My jaw works, opening and shutting. How do I tell him that I’m nervous? That I don’t want him to feel like a failure? That I don’t want to disappoint him when he can’t make me finish this way?
Marco chuckles, the sound vibrating the whole way up into my center. “Oh Roisin. Have you ever seen me turn down a challenge before?”
“Wait…” I protest weakly.
But it’s too late.
His lips return, his tongue working me with a kind of intensity and precision that makes me jackknife up off the couch. I wriggle again, but he tugs me closer.
Marco looks up at me, the challenge clear in his gaze.
When he presses one thick finger inside me, I lean back, gasping at the pressure.
He laughs. “Oh I think you can do better than that, Roisin.”
Another finger joins the first.
The pressure is intense. It’s exquisite. Somehow he works a spot deep inside my body that makes me feel like I’m about to fall apart at the seams. When a third finger is added, I writhe, part in pleasure, part in pain.
But not bad pain. The type of pain that seems to scrape each of my nerves, one by one, until I’m just putty in Marco’s hands.
It’s somewhere in this boneless state that I notice something building at the base of my awareness, at the edge of my spine. I’ve had orgasms before; I’m not unfamiliar with the sensation.
But the way this one feels is entirely different.
“I can feel you, Roisin,” Marco grunts from between my legs. “I need you to come for me, baby.”
“Marco…”
“Come for me,” he commands.
God help me.
His words push me over the edge.
I scream, my hands scrambling for purchase on the couch, tugging at his hair as I try to get away from him, try to get closer to him. I’m not sure where I need to go, because the orgasm that’s ripping through me robs me of all my senses.
“Good girl,” he rasps.
I shudder, the words somehow sinking an extra little punch into the waves of desire already racking my body. I don’t know where I end, or where Marco begins.
I don’t even know if I’m fully in control of myself, or if he’s the only one in charge.
Eventually, the buzzing in my head settles down. My breath rasps in and out of my lungs, and I’m aware of the loud noise it makes in the otherwise quiet cabin.