"You have an amazing house."
"It's more amazing when you're in it," he said.
We moved back into the bedroom, and I noticed red rose petals spread over the black bedspread. "You thought of everything," I said.
Next to the bed were two glasses of champagne and a bowl of strawberries. He handed me a glass and I sipped, enjoying the fizzy bubbles chasing themselves down my throat.
He pulled out a remote and with a click of a button music embraced us from everywhere—soft, lilting piano, something I'd never heard before.
"I wrote this," he said, his eyes devouring me. "For you."
"I didn't know you composed." I listened more carefully and wondered what emotions he'd brought to this piece with its minor chords and sad melody.
"I have many secrets," he said.
"It sounds like a sad song."
He pulled me closer to him, our bodies pressed against each other. "Sometimes love feels sad."
My breath caught. "Do you love me?" I asked, feeling thirteen again, nervous about my first crush.
He kissed me deeply. "I do," he said. "I love you."
A pressure inside me unlocked, like air being let out of a tire. "I love you, too."
Those were the last words we spoke as we peeled off each other's clothes slowly, deliberately, our eyes taking in everything, our hands exploring each other. We stood in front of each other naked, his cock hard and urgent in its need, his hands sliding down my body, thumbs grazing my aching nipples as his hands cupped my breasts, sending electric currents through me. I dropped my hands to his chest, running my fingers over his rock hard chest and abs, following the trail of hair from navel to cock until I brushed against him.
He moaned and I stroked him, finding a boldness I didn’t know I had. I dropped to my knees, missing his hands on me but wanting to feel him in my mouth. I flicked my tongue over the tender line of skin up to the head, swirling my tongue around him before taking him into my mouth, sucking and licking as I stroked his base and ran my fingers over his balls.
His fingers dug into my hair and I could tell he resisted the urge to push deeper into my mouth, so I did it for him, taking him as far as I could without gagging. He was too big, too thick and long to deep throat, but I used my hand, sucking, licking, grazing my teeth very gently over his head then pulled back, trailing kisses and licks down his shaft and over his balls.
"I want you," he said, lifting me to the bed, laying me over the rose petals as he spread my legs and dipped his head between them. His lips and teeth teased my thighs as he fondled my breasts with his hands. When he licked my clit my hips bucked up, my pussy so sensitive and ready for him I could tell I would come fast and hard. But he wouldn't let me—instead he teased and pulled away, licking and sucking, then paid attention to my thighs, massaging my body, rising to suck on a nipple or kiss me deeply, always bringing me to the edge and then retreating, leaving me desperate and begging for more.
He played this game for what felt like hours, but likely was only a few minutes. When he finally slid two fingers inside me and used his tongue on my clit without pulling away, I came harder than I could have imagined, harder than I'd ever come before in my life, and while I rode that orgasm, he pushed himself into me, stroking my clit as he fucked me, making me come again and again, soaking his cock in my essence as he slammed into me harder and faster.
I couldn't think of anything, couldn't worry about anything. All I could feel was him, his body, his hands, him inside of me. He was everything. We were everything. Nothing else existed.
When he pulled out I whimpered, and he laughed and guided me to my knees, spreading my legs as he took me from behind.
We hadn't done this position before and everything felt new and different. He felt deeper and the spot he hit inside me, oh my God. We found our rhythm and I thrust my hips into him as hard as he thrust into me, our bodies crashing together over and over in a primal beat of surrender and pleasure and crescendo.
His hands gripped my hips as he pulled me and pushed himself. My tender nipples brushed against the bed and the soft silkiness of the rose petals, adding to the pleasure as yet another orgasm built in me. His hand moved to my pussy, spreading me and rubbing against me as he fucked me, and I came again. God did I come. With him. Together. Over the edge and beyond.
The fire crackled, warming the cool night as I lay with my head on his chest, listening as his heartbeat slowed to its normal patter. I dozed for a time, and maybe he did too, but nature called and I reluctantly left his bed to use the bathroom. When I returned, he was propped up in bed, his eyes following me as I crawled back in with him, letting him wrap his arm around me.