“If this is what being cursed means, then sign me up for more,” I pant after the waves have finished clenching, my muscles are unclenching, and there are only about three cats dancing behind my eyes when I shut them for a few brief seconds to try and make the room stop swaying. Oh, wait, that’s me. That’s my head. Probably a lack of blood. I blink a few times. Much. Better.
“Oh wow,” I find myself saying, but it comes out more like a jumble of words, and I’m pretty sure the words oh and wow aren’t included. Awwmow is more like it. “Can you…can you make that happen with your magical weenus wand?”
Taylen chokes. “Uh, I hope so.” He raises his head. His chin is wet and shiny from my climax. Poof, there go my ovaries. Finished. Done with life. Thank you very much. My pussy, though? Okay, so I used the word pussy too. Anyway, it’s giving him a standing ovation and then some. What’s the thing after a standing ovation called? Well, never mind. Whatever it is, it’s a standing ovation, another song, then another standing ovation, and now the best song of all.
If Taylen were a band, he’d be my favorite band, and this would be my favorite concert. The first time concert. Except I think that every time, the concert might be just as good. The ninety-year-old concerts we put on would be just as special to me, whatever that would look like. Oh jeez. I think I feel a sniffle coming on. Nope. I’m not going to get weepy here.
That can wait.
But Taylen can’t. I can’t imagine how hard he is and how he’s managed to wait. I couldn’t. Obviously, if I were him, I wouldn’t have been able to either. He must have excellent self-control. Or rather, dick control?
“I’m going to be responsible here and get a condom.”
Oh, condoms. Yes, great. I’m probably some shade of red that needs a four-word descriptor before the actual word red, but I’m glad Taylen is thinking responsibly.
“Thanks,” I whisper. “I’m not on birth control. I…errr…this is going to be super awkward to say, but I didn’t need it because I didn’t have a use for it.”
“That’s not super awkward. Does it make me a Neanderthal to say I’m glad you never had to have sex with a man your parents chose for you?”
I whip my head from side to side so hard that it feels like it could come right off my shoulders. “No, it doesn’t.” After which, I vow that I’m going to fix this because I want to feel him. Just him. There’s no way I can say it out loud at this point because the shade of red on my face would then be indescribable, but I do think it.
I might be bordering on purple because I can’t stop myself from watching Taylen rolling the condom down his length. Holy. Shit. Every time I see him, I get an extra wet achy feeling. His cock resembles a bloody tree. It’s massive, and when I watch it throb in Taylen’s hand, I’m reminded of how empty I feel, even though I just had two amazing climaxes.
He looms over me, dipping his head to kiss my breast, and I don’t protest about my view being cut off, because holy amazeballs, Tay is a great kisser, even when he’s not kissing my lips. He suckles my hard nipple into his mouth, and white-hot sensations go careening through my body.
Even though Taylen is huge, he somehow fits between my legs. I wrap one leg around his waist, wriggling and opening myself up wider for him. He responds by dipping his hand between my legs while he’s still suckling on my nipple.
“So wet,” he groans like he’s not fully aware that yes, of course, I’m soaking wet because I just had the two most amazing orgasms known to humanity, and now the sexiest beast of a man is between my legs, his throbbing, magical tree cock only inches away from exploring my lady cave.
He caresses me, and I respond, my hips going wild at his touch. He slides his finger through my wet folds and then slowly pushes it inside me, which causes me to do something that isn’t quite a groan, a whine, or a plea. It’s all of them wrapped into one.
Mmmpph. That’s the sound my head makes when it hits the pillow.
I’m all prepared for some insanely hot missionary sex with my insanely hot cursed best friend when Tay surprises me by rolling us. He literally does it the same way we used to wrestle when we were kids. I end up on top with my legs spread around his waist, and he’s on the bottom, staring up at me and giving me all the power in the world—total control. Somehow, staring down at him is hotter than if he’d trapped me up against the wall and plunged into me there. Or if he bought one of those fun-looking swings designed to make the bedroom ghost pepper spicy. But no, that’s not a fantasy of mine, although it could be. I’m just saying. Because this is kind of spicy too.