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My heart seems to have expanded to occupy my entire body. I’m one big mass of throbbing, aching, hurt. And she can save me. This one time, I can use her body to get rid of this desperate feeling that grips me. This one time, I can bury myself in her and find solace. And then... I’ll let her go. Then, I’ll walk away from her before I further damage her life. She'll be better off without me.
I’ll become a distant memory, and she can move on. She can find someone better than me. Someone who’ll love her the way she deserves. I swallow the bitterness crowding my throat. Someone who’ll kiss her and fuck her and?—
“Q, you’re hurting me.” She swallows.
I loosen my grip on her.
“I’m sorry”—I memorize her features— “so sorry.”
Am I apologizing for holding her too tightly, or for letting her go? For the inevitable distance I'm going to put between us... But not yet. I have her in my bed, in my arms, and I can love her... Just for now, I can give her pleasure. I can’t undo the fact I married her, but I can bring her to orgasm. I can fuck her the way she deserves. I can make it so good for her, better than anything she’s experienced in the past or will from any other man in her future. The thought of anyone else holding her lights a fire in my veins. I flip her onto her back.
"Q," she gasps, "what are you—" She cries out, for I’ve pushed her legs apart, positioning myself against her opening.
37
Vivian
He impales me in one smooth move. I gasp. I thought I was prepared for it, but when the pain twangs through my center, it takes me by surprise. A short, sharp, burning sensation rips through me.
His gaze widens. The shock in them makes my cheeks flame. I wanted this. Wanted to feel Q inside of me. I was beginning to think I'd never have it. And it feels strange, but also amazing.
Clearly, he doesn’t share the sentiment, for he scowls at me. I sense the question in them even before he growls, “You’re a virgin?”
I tip up my chin. “The term hymen comes from the Greek, for membrane. There is little to no evidence that it provides any benefits or functionality to your body. Not all women are born with a hymen.” I hear my words and realize how absurd my stream of consciousness sounds, but I want him to know how little it matters. How I wasn't hiding anything from him. That I want this, and nothing, especially not a societal construct, is going to stop me from having it.
The lines around his eyes soften. He regards me with a serious expression on his face. “Shh, it’s okay, baby. I’ll take care of you, I promise.” He lowers his head and kisses my forehead.
I swallow. The promise in his eyes when he looks into mine turns my insides to mush. My belly quivers. My pussy flutters, and when I squeeze my inner muscles, his cock swells further.
He’s too much. Too big. Too everything.
He stays poised on his arms, his biceps bunching, the ropes of muscles on his shoulders standing out in relief.
There’s a tension rolling off his big body, an intensity to the sharp edges of his features, a ferocity to how he watches me, which borders on desperation. There’s a tortured look on his face, sweat dampening his forehead running in rivulets down the valley between his pecs. The remnants of whatever horror he saw in his nightmare are gone from his eyes, replaced by one-hundred percent lust. He throbs inside me, stretching my channel, pushing against my inner walls. I feel swallowed, consumed, surrounded by him.
He stays there, jaw hard, teeth gritted. “Do you know what it does to me to find out I’m your first?”
I shake my head, unable to speak. I want to tell him so much. I want to explain how I reached the age of twenty-three without a sexual partner...
But also, I’m glad he’s my first.
His lips curl. “It makes me want to fuck you until you can’t walk straight.
“Q…” I squirm under him. The earlier pain has receded, replaced by a churning hunger. I tilt my hips, then lock my ankles about his waist. I dig my heels into his back, trying to urge him to move.
He clicks his tongue. “Bad Raven. No topping from the bottom, baby.”
“But I want you to fuck me.”
“And I will, once I know you’re ready.”
“I am ready,” I pout. I sound so whiny, so needy. But I don’t care. I want him to get on with it already.
“Q, please. Please, please, please, I beg you.”
My words must please him, for the smile disappears from his face. He sets his jaw, then pulls back, balancing at my entrance for a beat. Then another, before he propels his hips and sinks inside me to the hilt.
My groan mixes with his, and he stays there, buried inside me, with his balls resting against my cunt.
