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His eyes narrow. “I should tie you to the bed just for saying that foul shit. You’re mine, and you’re not going any fucking where. Understand me, Jeniah. If I’m your first tonight, then I’m also your last.”
“Then prove it,” I challenge.
He presses his lips together, and the muscles in his jaw flex. He’s angry, but his eyes still burn. It’s a look I’ve never seen before. He takes my mouth again, but the gentleness is gone. He’s a man possessed—a man on a mission.
Gripping my hips, he pulls me to the edge of the bed. He stands, towering over me. Wearing clothes I want to rip off. He’s already made me wait too long. “Gio,” I pant.
“Not yet. I want to get you ready.”
“I’m ready.”
He places my palm in the center of his. It swallows mine. He frowns at the size difference. “You’re so small. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Nobody but you would call me small.” I glide my hand up and down the soft flesh hidden by my dress. His hypnotized eyes follow every stroke, so I give him more. Raising my skirt and pulling my panties off. He groans when my dress hoops around my waist. His eyes glue themselves to my pyramid of curls guarding my entry. “I didn’t know if you’d want me bare orbearas they say. So I did both. I shaved most and left some.” I chew my lip and wait for his response.
“It’s perfect,” he says. Leaning down to kiss the crease hiding under my pubic bone.
“You’re perfect.” He adds and turns my body to throw my legs over his collarbone.
Spreading me, he dips his tongue into my slit, and I gasp. My back arches, and I dig my heels into his shoulders. He licks me, nibbles, and sucks me until I’m shaking. My thighs quaking. He won’t let me come. He lifts his head, his mouth glistening with my juices. “I need to taste you again.”
I shake my head. “No, I want you inside me. I want to feel you. I want you to make me yours, Gio.”
“Not yet.” He dips again and continues mining for gold. His fingers join the search while his thumb strokes my clit. Is this edging? Is he keeping me hovering on the brink of orgasm on purpose? If so, no wonder the shit is so popular, because I’m going fucking crazy. I lower my hand to help with my clit, but he swats it away. Grumbling, “Mine,” against my lips.
I buck and moan as he plunges two fingers inside. Scissoring them to stretch me. It feels good, but it’s not enough. I need him.
“Please, Gio. Fuck me, please. I need you.”
He stands, and I hear his belt buckle jingle. Finally, I think. But he doesn’t remove his pants. He unbuttons them and frees his cock. I lick my lips. He’s thick and long, and I can’t wait totaste him. I want to experienceeverythingI’ve ever read about—fantasized about.
He pumps his shaft with one hand and waves his fingers at me, saying, “Lose the dress.” I scramble to my knees to pull the damn thing over my head and unhook my bra. My hand shakes when I pull it away. I have a love-hate relationship with my breasts. They grew way too early, and it seems like that never stopped. I can’t ever lose weight because I’d fall on my face if I did. But I don’t say any of that, and when he gives his dick a long tug at the sight of them, I wonder if I haven’t given the girls enough credit.
He pushes me back onto the bed and crawls over me. His hands cup my breasts, and his thumbs tease my nipples. He leans down and sucks one into his mouth, and I gasp. He’s driving me crazy. I wrap my legs around his waist and try to pull him closer.
He releases my breast with a pop and orders. “Be patient.”
“I’m dying here,” I whine.
He slides his length against my slit, grinding in tantalizing circles. His head jerks up, and he asks, “Have you ever dry-humped—”
“No,” I slap his chest. “And I don’t want to today. Just regular humping, please.”
He chuckles and thrusts his cock against my pussy. It’s hot and hard and exactly what I need. I match his rhythm as we grind our hips together. He drops his head to my neck, and I rake my nails down his back. We’re both panting, the pressure building in my core.
“Fuck me, Gio. Please, fuck me. I’m ready.”
“Maybe,” but he looks at my size again, and I get his concern. Gio is fucking huge. When I stand next to him, my five-foot-four-inch height barely reaches mid-biceps. I glimpsed his dick before he knelt back down. Yep, he’s proportional. All that shit about big guys and small dicks… It proves once again why you can’t trust social media.
Big hands, big feet—BIG DICK.
Centering me in the middle of the bed, he fumbles in the side drawer. “Got a few things for you.” I expected condoms, which he does pull out, but when I see the lubricant jelly, my eyes water. Not from all the hormones, denied orgasms, and desire running amok. But because he knew this was coming, he took the steps to protect us from pregnancy and to protectmefrom discomfort.
And that’s why I fucking love him. It’s been barely a week, but I FUCKING LOVE HIM.
But now is not the time to tell him that. Instead, I cheese at him, flutter my lashes, and say, “Aw, for me?”
“For you, baby,” he says.
