“I had no idea, Penelope. But I don’t mind. Not at all… It means I’m your first.”
The gravity of it hits me like a brick wall.
And here we are, her skirt hitched around her waist, crammed in the back of a car.
“So… It’s not a bad thing?” she asks, chewing her lip again, commanding another kiss from me without even having to say or do anything.
“It’s the best thing. And it means we have to—” I stop short.
“It means I have to make your first time a little more special than this.” I correct myself.
“And what’s so bad about the back of a limo, with Jett Masters between my legs?” she reasons aloud, blowing a tuft of her hair out of her face.
Her brow shines with exertion, her whole body is still trembling slightly.
“Nothing bad about it,” I counter. “I just thought it would be better… I just want to make it special is all.”
My mind is already swimming with the possibilities.
“Like in a tank?” She half-giggles before another little aftershock grips her.
“Or maybe just some handcuffs?” I counter, having no intention of tying her hands up so she can’t grab a hold of me.
But at least we’ve broken the ice.
Most of it feels like it’s melted between her legs too.
And at least I know I’ve not only staked my claim, but I’ve also found the one I’ve waited for my whole life.
“What are we gonna do about this though?” she asks, shifting and easily finding my aching dick straining against my pants.
She purrs as she runs both hands up and down my rod, making me tilt my head back in a low groan.
“Can I at least see it?” she coos. I feel her hands trembling as she finds my zipper, freeing my thick arousal in seconds as we both gasp for different reasons.
Me because I can breathe again, my heat twitching against the smoothness of her hands and her, groaning and then sucking air in between my teeth.
Humming with pleasure as she eagerly explores my hot, fat dick up close.
I’m more than aware of how close I am. But I focus on Penelope, shifting her hair back a little over her ear so I can watch her as she discovers a man for the first time in her life.
And this man discovers just how good she feels from the outside.
I can only imagine how fucking good she feels inside.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Penelope
If this is going slow, I’m glad I didn’t order the express, supersonic speed version of Jett.
I thought he’d be let down, or even angry that I have no experience.
Like, literally no experience sexually
Not even by myself.
I’ve had my head buried in books and news articles the past few years. Test tubes in between my fingers when all the other guys and girls at school, and then college were already old hands at the finer art of procreation.
I understand the theory of it all perfectly, just never felt anything for anyone and no one bothered to look at me twice.
But with Jett it’s different.
And I know what some people might say, but it’s not stars in my eyes or a first-time romance either.
There really is something between us, and it goes beyond the physical.
Taking his manhood in both hands, feeling how hot, hard yet smooth, and soft it is in places at the same time, I can still say it goes way beyond the physical.
And with Jett, there’s plenty of the physical to go around too.
Christ, this thing’s as big as my arm…
“Taking it slow,” Jett mutters, and without even looking I can tell he’s smiling too.
Feeling bold, I squeeze the dark purple head of his cock, gasping with him when a clear, thick line of liquid warms my palm.
I circle the whole swollen tip of his cock, pleased to be pleasing him. Hoping it feels even a tenth as good as he just made me feel with his tongue and mouth on me.
“Can I?” I ask, wondering before I even say it how I’d fit any of him into my tiny mouth. He’s huge.
“I only want to come in you, Penelope,” he says, voice rough. Sitting up a little.
Keeping my hand in place with one of his own, but taking my chin in his other hand, he explains.
“I want you. I really do, Penelope,” he whispers, pecking my lips before continuing, “But I also want to give you everything else.”
I must look confused, or even a little distracted.
I can feel my hand moving up and down his thick length unconsciously, and even the great Jett Masters seems stuck for words for the first time in his life as he clenches his jaw with a deep growl of satisfaction.
“You mean, all this?” I ask, squeezing him again, but he shakes his head a little.
“I mean a family, Penelope. Kids, a big house with a white picket fence. The whole nine yards,” he says, enthused.