My memories might be foggy, but I know I was still a virgin. I've never done it with my husband. He doesn't even ask for me. I guess because he wanted me to recover fully.
Stephan's tongue delved with erotic precision into my mouth while he eased my tender thigh apart. I couldn't help that I wanted him inside me.
He was smoking hot, and fuck ovulation hormones. He stifled my helpless whimper of need with his lips, and I liked it.
He unclipped my bra and pushed it all away, exposing fully my two round breasts before him. I felt shy and guilty. He let his teeth graze a stiff pink crest until I arched my hips and gasped.
All sensations were centered at my chest. He drew up my knee, tugged down my panties, and told me how much lace cotton was a real turn-on. The tightness low in my pelvis made it impossible for me to stay still. I dug my hands into his shoulder and pulled him back to me.
"Don't stop..." I pleaded.
"I knew this would calm you down, pookie."
I wouldn't let myself think about what he was saying. My body was on fire for him. He plunged his cock into the hot satin heat of me, and I almost passed out, either pleasure.
What followed was the wildest, hottest excitement I had ever experienced, and he was moving effortlessly on top of me like a dancer. I clung to him, wondering if I was in heaven. My heart skipped, realizing the both of us had not even a single piece of clothing on.
"I needed this," Stephanconfessed hoarsely, seeking and demanding a passionate kiss. My back ached, and I've never been kissed this way before. Not by my high school boyfriend or college boyfriend.
He lifted me up into his arms, clamping my legs around his waist. His thing was still inside me as he grinded and carried me into his large, fancy bedroom.
"What about my gun? I spent a lot to get those," I muttered.
"Did you say something, pookie?"
"No," I replied.
"You will this time."
I didn't scream as he brought me down to his bed, bent below, and buried his mouth in my clit.
"Stephan!" I wailed. I jerked up to hug my knees. "I can't do this."
"Please," he fucking pleaded.
"I feel so shameless," I said sincerely.
"Shameless in the bedroom works well for me," he smirked.
I shut my eyes tight and lowered my knees, keeping myself like a sacrifice for him.
"You are so perfect," he said. "I like your tits, your clit, your lips, your breasts. Oh my God. Those eyes..."
He made love to me again and then again until I was so drowsy that I could hardly keep my eyes open. It was as if he couldn't get enough of me, and I couldn't get enough of him either.
Then he took me to the bathroom, laid me in the bathtub filled with water, and thrust his cock inside me. The water was like the lubricant and made him move smoothly to the rhythm of the music he had turned on. My back ached as much as my mind did. This wasn't right, but I still let him suck my breasts and fumble them while still thrusting, and even though they were all painful, I still ached with pleasure and allowed him to do with me as he pleased.
He finally cleaned me up, laid me on the cushion naked, and walked naked to the kitchen to make food. I stared at him, wondering how that much length found its way buried inside me.
I felt butterflies in my stomach as I watched, without strength, as he cooked something that really smelt… The scent of garlic and herbs wafted through the open-plan space, mixing strangely with the lingering musk of sex and steam.
I lay there, limp and boneless on the velvet cushions, my thighs still trembling, my heart doing slow flips every time I thought about what had just happened.
Stephanwas humming now. Casual. Like he hadn't just ruined me in every room of this house. Like I hadn't just offered myself up like some desperate lamb...
He turned back to look at me, the corner of his mouth lifting with that same wicked smile that had broken me hours ago.
"Still sleeping, pookie?" he teased, flipping something in the skillet.
Shame curled around my chest like smoke. Not because of what we'd done—but because I liked it. I wanted more. God help me, I wanted him.
"You hungry?" he asked, his voice suddenly gentle. "I made aglio e olio. Simple, but it'll help you recover."
I sat up slowly, the throw pillow sticking to my damp skin. "I shouldn't be here doing this," I whispered, barely audible over the sizzle from the stove.
"You should be exactly here," Stephanreplied, plating the pasta. "You needed this. I needed this. No lies, no need to pretend." He walked over, fully naked and shameless, setting the plate down in front of me.
I stared at it, then at him. "You don't even ask if I regret it."
He leaned over me, pressing a kiss to my damp forehead. "You didn't say no. And I think you need to remember what it feels like to be wanted. This is your first time, huh? I get it. You were all tight down there."
I rolled my eyes away. This wasn't the kind of conversation I planned to have with the man that killed my best friend.
"Eat, pookie. You will recover sooner."
"Go put on some clothes. Please."
"Why? I'd take you into my special room after eating. I wanted you to have the strength for it—that's why I'm feeding you. It's your first day of sex, and I am here to make it worth it."
He winked at me, that maddening smile curving his lips like he was proud of what he'd done to me and what he planned to keep doing.
I swallowed, my throat dry as I glanced at the pasta. I should've been furious. Embarrassed. But all I felt was this aching, terrifying pull toward him. Like he had taken something from me and left something else in its place. Addiction.
"You think that was intense, right?" He leaned close, lips brushing the shell of my ear. "That was only the warm-up."
I took the bite he offered, the garlic-heavy pasta hitting my tongue. "Go put on some clothes," I said.
Stephanstood again. "Fine, I'll get dressed if it helps you breathe. But don't think too much... don't you dare cover any part of you." He smiled and fumbled my breasts passionately, and he kissed me.
…His heat seared into me, and before I could think right, he was already on me. The weight of him stealing all the air and thought. My legs opened on instinct, and sitting on the couch like a woman about to give birth, my body already betraying any fragment of resistance I might've held onto.
I could feel his dick inside me, this time it was easier than before. I could only moan while he rode the living daylight out of me.
"Stephan—" I gasped, but it came out more like a plea.
"I told you," he murmured into my mouth. His fingers tangled in my hair, dragging my face to his as his hips rocked against mine, slow and torturously deep. "I want all of you, pookie. Every sound. Every arch. Every part of you should be mine."
I whimpered, my nails digging into his back. He grunted, relishing the sting.
His lips brushed down my neck.
Tears suddenly burned behind my eyes.
He slowed, pulling back just enough to look into my eyes. "Hey... are you okay?" he said, his voice deep with concern, like he had fallen in love with me.
I pushed out blindly, and my fingers touched the gun. I grabbed it, and there was a sudden, loud explosion.
"Oh, Jesus!" Stephan cried. His grip suddenly relaxed.
Through a red mist, I watched in horror as he fell off me and slumped to the floor, clutching his side.
"You shot me... Pookie. Oh my God! You shot me...."
I was transfixed, unable to move. I felt I was going to be sick, and my eyes were blinded by stabbing pain. I pulled myself to my feet, turned, and stumbled on my clothes, and then to a door at the far end of the room. I pushed it open. It was a bathroom. I washed off the bloodstains on my body and then staggered over to pick the rest of my clothes and slid them on
When I looked into the cabinet mirror, my eyes were bloodshot and wild-looking.
My God, I've just killed a man!