Obsessed(41)

My cheeks heated and I smiled timidly at him. “You are so strange, Aston.”

He smiled back at me, dimples and all. “But you like that.”

“I love it.”

He moved back over me and brushed my hair away from my face. “You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Since I came through this house eight years ago, I have been obsessed with you.”

He could never know how much those words meant to me. He could never know the torture I had gone through all these years, wondering and wishing. This was a dream for me. I must be in a coma. I’d wake up soon, right?

But then he kissed me again, and it didn’t feel like a dream. It felt real and intimate. Nothing this good could be dreamt about. He kissed every inch of me. He savoured me, and when I was squirming for more, he threw his shirt and pants off. I saw him naked for the first time, beautiful and large, I had to suppress the tears from falling out of my eyes. Was it weird I was crying? It totally was, wasn’t it? But I was so freaking happy! This happiness made me want to weep.

He moved back over me, his naked flesh pressed against mine. Yes, this was real, I told myself, savouring the rush that blazed through my body. We were a fireball; two uncertain, nervous bodies coming together for the very first time. Sloppy, new, without practice or rhythm. Vulnerable, excited, mouths stretched with smiles, eyes filled with need.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered against my lips. “Tell me what I can do to keep from hurting you.”

Never leave me.

“Nothing,” I whispered back. “Just do it.”

He took me, slowly and cautiously, his eyes searching my face with a look of worry. I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close to me as he rocked into me. I told him not to stop, and he listened, shutting his eyelids at the intense feeling. I waited to be swept up by the same intensity. I shut my eyes and…

Then I felt it.

Pain! Horrible. Agonizing. Pain!

My eyes shot open. What the fuck was this? This wasn’t what I was promised! There was no pleasure. What the fuck?! It felt like a hot poker was ripping me wide open. I tensed, and hissed between my teeth and he paused instantly.

“Are you okay?” he asked, worried. “Fuck, do you want me to pull out?”

Yes, god, yes! “No,” I forced out. “Keep going.”

“I’m doing it wrong, aren’t I?”

“Oh, my God, Aston, just keep going. You’re making this awkward.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize during my first time. You’re ruining it.”

“Fuck.”

This wasn’t how I envisioned this. I groaned and gripped his hair, pulling him down to me. “Just kiss me. Kiss me slowly, Aston.”

He smashed his lips to mine. It helped. I didn’t think of the pain so much with his tongue tangling with mine. In fact, I felt turned on again. Aston had the ability to kiss erotically. It sounded weird saying that, but it was the only way to describe it. He kissed like it mattered, like he had to savour my taste. I felt him growing harder inside of me. How was that possible? None of the girls talked about this part. Why hadn’t I probed them more with their loss of virginity tales?

There was nothing beautiful about the first time. It was all a lie. A terrible fucking myth designed to make girls fear it less. Fuck you, authors; those heroines couldn’t have writhed in pleasure. Fuck you, movies; those actresses shouldn’t have gasped and moaned the way they did. They were all liars.

They were all…

I gasped when he thrust further inside of me. A spark shot through me. I tore away from his mouth and gazed into his eyes. “That felt good,” I whispered.

His eyes widened, a look of triumph present. “Really?”

“Do it again. Move in and out again.”

He did, and whatever pain I’d originally felt ebbed away to a dull ache I could easily ignore. He pushed in, and we both gasped at the same time. Wow, wow, I felt that everywhere. He watched me intently, his lips quirking up at the way I rolled my eyes to the back of my head. He took his time, moving in and out of me deliberately slow to catch my expressions.

And then he moved. Like, really moved. I touched him everywhere I could, and he kissed me, doting on my lips as I moaned inside his mouth.

I felt an intense connection I couldn’t describe. I held him to me hard as we made love, as he moved back and forth, warming me. He made surprising noises, light moans that ran away from his lips. His sounds; they did wild things to me.

He opened his eyes again and moved quicker, his strokes longer and harder, filled with confident need. I writhed beneath him, encouraging him with my kisses not to stop. Oh, god, it really was as good as they said it would be. He was inside of me, outside of me, everywhere around me. It was an overdose of Aston and it quenched my obsession, filling it to the brim. In a single night, he’d consumed my addiction than all the years we’d shared combined.