Empire of Desire by Rina Kent

“So fucking messy, my Gwyneth.”

I nearly come from that, how he called me his Gwyneth. The humping of his cock against my folds increases in intensity and rhythm until I’m hanging by a thread. And just when I think the thread will break and I’ll roll down the cliff, he slips inside. It’s not hard or violent, but it’s in one go.

One. Go.

Every inch of his huge cock is in me at once and it’s deep. So fucking deep that I whimper and gasp, and my insides feel like they’re tearing apart.

Because I think they are.

Holy shit. The sting hurts so good. It hurts better than I imagined. All the stories I’ve heard about this moment are nonsensical. They said it would hurt like you want to die or cry, and I do want to cry, but for an entirely different reason than pain.

Like how ethereal it feels, how full, how deep and right.

Nate doesn’t seem to share my thoughts, because he freezes, like completely, even though he’s breathing harshly and heavily. And his eyes, the color of darkness, widen a little as they stares into mine.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” His curses start low, then grow in volume. “You’re a virgin?”

“I don’t think I am anymore.”

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me, Gwyneth?”

“I didn’t believe it mattered.”

“Of course, it fucking matters. I wouldn’t have fucked you against the wall for your first time. I would’ve been gentle.”

“I don’t like it gentle.” I stroke the strand of hair that’s fallen over his forehead. “I like it exactly the way you do—rough and unapologetic.”

“You don’t even know what the fuck rough means.” He’s rocking his hips a little, thrusting slowly, and holy mother of all things, the bursts of pleasure running through me is too intense to handle.

“You can teach me. I love it when you do.” I rock my hips, too, and that makes him pick up his pace a little.

“Are you in pain?” One of his hands snakes behind my back and the other holds my hip so tight that his fingers are digging into my skin. I think he’s pining for patience to not take me as hard as his cock is ordering him to right now.

“I’m not.” I go down on his cock a few more times. “So don’t take it easy on me and don’t even think about holding back. Give me all of you.”

“Fuck this.”

And just like that, he does. He gives me all of him.

He moves inside me with deep, slow thrusts at first and I cry out at how good it feels, how damn full.

And then it’s faster and my body feels like it would fall if it weren’t for the firmness of his grip that keeps me chained to him.

Each stroke is so delicious and sensual, and I want to keep soaking it all in. His thrusts, the power in his shoulders, and even my long moans and slow whimpers.

But I can’t, because I can feel the savage building of the climax about to pull me under.

“A virgin. Fuck.” He grunts against my chest, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking on it, then biting until I’m about to crumble here and now. “Why are you a fucking virgin, Gwyneth?”

“I didn’t want to…have sex…” I don’t know how I’m speaking with all the things going on inside me. Everything is just too raw and heightened.

“Why?”

“I didn’t find the right one to give it to.”

“You didn’t, huh?”

“No.” And I think, deep down, I was saving it for him. I wanted him to be the first man to explore that part of me, but I don’t say that. I can’t.

“But I came along and took it anyway, didn’t I?”

“You did.”

“Because it’s my pussy and it’s only supposed to be mine, right?”

“Yeah…”

I have no more words to say, because I’m coming. The climax drags me under and holds me hostage, and I scream from the sheer intensity of it.

Nate lets me, he lets me scream his name and how much I love it, how much I love what he’s doing to me. Usually, he stuffs something in my mouth to stop me from screaming, his fingers or a piece of clothing, but now, he doesn’t even attempt to mute me.

Soon after, I hear his low, deep grunt and feel him tightening and growing even thicker inside me. My pussy walls clench around his cock, wanting him to stay there forever.

And then there’s warmth. On my breasts. Because he pulled out at the last second, put me down, and came all over my chest.

No idea why a gloomy feeling that’s so similar to disappointment perches on my chest.

But the low mood is short-lived. As I stand on my wobbly feet, I can’t stop staring at the spurts of his cum on my pale breasts, clinging to the tips of my nipples and dripping down my stomach and onto the shirt he ripped.

Nate isn’t watching that, though. He’s watching my legs with a frown. I also look down and, through my unfocused vision, I make out a trail of blood gliding down my leg and to my ankle, then soaking my white sneakers red.

A long moment of silence stretches between us as we observe the evidence of my becoming a woman.

“Fuck.” His curse is low, almost a whisper, as he picks me up and carries me in his arms bridal style.

I wrap myself all around him, sighing, then I kiss the hollow of his throat and surrender to a deep sleep.