Back to William, my mind harassed me.
Breathing in deep, I composed myself and prepared to see what he had to say about that encounter.
She was a single Domme. [I reread the line for mental emphasis.]
Her demeanor was firm and demanding. Her eyes saw into my soul. She, thank heavens, accepted my proposal. She didn’t even flinch at my cold hands. I wanted to present my body to her right there in front of everyone and beg for her to use me. Instead, I watched her leave in my rearview mirror and prepared for tomorrow’s date. And I may or may not have attempted to paint a portrait of her likeness.
Delighted,
William
I stood up and discreetly checked my seat for a puddle. I didn’t know if I peed myself, or Bizzy drenched herself while I was reading this, but the bottom line was that William produced startling reactions from my body.
As much as I wanted to read about our first scene together . . . what I really wanted to see about was his description of the first time we had sex.
I don’t think most women get a chance to see firsthand what they are like in bed. So I flipped around until I saw it.
I even scooted down the entry to get to the good stuff. Fuck foreplay, right?
And I had to refrain from gasping as she pulled my erection from my pants and shoved me inside her. I focused solely on the warm feeling. The wet sliding. The desperate crashing of our hips.
She was everything I could have dreamed about. She was tender enough to show her attraction to me, giving my ego the boost it needed for this crucial step. She was domineering enough to make me feel like I was being manipulated by her—pushed around—under her thumb.
This was what a Domme should be. She didn’t have to be the woman with the leather and the whip. All she needed to be was the one in charge, the one doling out either the pleasure or the pain or both.
Cerise consumed me mentally and physically, and dare I say it, spiritually. My entire being was inside her.
Dearest Journal, it was the pinnacle of my existence. My mind was at peace, my body had ascended to new heights, and my senses were burning to a crisp with desire for her.
I never, ever, thought losing my virginity would be like this.
Still reeling,
William
Vir—
Vir—
VIRGINITY!?
My eyes threatened to leave my head, and I think I got lockjaw.
VIRGINITY?
I whipped my iPhone from my pocket like a gun from its holster, and texted him as fast as I could: FORGET WHATEVER SCENE YOU HAVE PLANNED TODAY. SHOW UP AT MY HOUSE AT FOUR INSTEAD OF TWO. BE PREPARED FOR ANYTHING.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Cerise
I walked into an empty house after school—good. I needed some time to process those entries. There was still a lot for me to wrap my head around.
No, not the vampire part—I had been suppressing my gut feeling about that for a while. I’d grill him about all the gory details at a more appropriate point in time, if I really even wanted to know more. My real problem was with the other V word.
Virgin.
He must be joking. I must have read it wrong . . . a hundred times. Maybe I needed glasses and saw “losing my Virginia accent”?
He was a virgin the first time we had sex. I popped his possibly undead cherry on top of my new piano, which, by the way, had found a nice spot in the corner of my living room.