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Chapter Thirty-One
Nick
I had sex for one reason, and one reason only. To blow my load. I had never been concerned with a woman’s desires, needs, or thoughts. Now, Peyton’s desires, needs, and thoughts were all I was concerned with.
My hands pressed against the soft skin of her breasts. I waited for rejection, but received none. Carefully, I kneaded her flesh, paying special attention not to be too rough. She wiggled and twisted her body, but I could tell by her moans that she was as pleased as I was.
I lowered my mouth to meet her nipples, kissing them softly with my lips, then following with a few flicks of my tongue. She responded by digging her nails into my back, further proof that so far I had yet to make a mistake.
Perfection wasn’t my goal, nor was it an expectation. I wanted to please her, and the thought of doing so pleased me. It was a first, that was for sure.
Before the barbeque, I had an idea of how I felt about Peyton, but I wasn’t certain what I wanted in the end. When we kissed, something either changed, or I came to a realization. As ridiculous as it seemed to admit afterward, kissing her was all the confirmation my mind needed.
With my body, spirit, and soul released from my mind’s grip, I cautiously worked to satisfy her, hoping to bring her to climax without causing her any mental or physical pain.
I sucked and kissed her breasts repeatedly, grinding my hips against hers with each touch of my lips to her nipples.
Her moaning continued, and fueled by her expressed pleasure, I continued.
Several minutes later, the moaning had all but stopped.
She pressed her elbows into the mattress and lifted her head. “Uhhm. I’m more than a set of nice tits. You know that, right?”
“Huh?”
“You’ve been fucking around with my tits since we started,” she complained. “I told you, I’m not broken.”
Hurting her in any way would crush me. Still harboring the guilt for what happened to her, an extremely cautious advance was all she was going to receive from me. At least for now. “I know,” I said. “But I just don’t want to--”
She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Hurt me?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
She sat up completely. “I’m safe with you. That’s one thing I need to always remind myself of, and I do. I’m safe here.”
I rolled to the side and continued to listen, but paid more attention to admiring her perfect body.
“You’re not going to hurt me,” she said. “We both know it. Ultimately, I’m in control. Me. Not you. Me.”
“Okay.”
“I’m safe, and I’m in control. But guess what?”
I was lost. Completely. “What?”
“I want you to fuck me. And I don’t mean I want you to stick your cock in me and gently work your hips back and forth. If we’re going to do this, I want to be fucked.”
“I just…I don’t want to--”
“Hurt me? Roll over,” she said. “I fucking swear. If a woman want’s something done right, she’s got to do it herself.”
