Scattered (Book 1)

The Good Thing About Mind Readers Is... (16)

"Please tell me you want this. It would be torture to have to leave you now." He whispered against her lips, sliding his shaft in long strokes along her most sensitive nerves.

"I want this." She panted back, her fingers scraping at his back slightly as he pulled away, anyway. He leaned even farther over her, the head of his cock trailing up her belly a bit as he stretched to reach the small bottle on the nightstand. She watched as he sat up a bit, bottle in hand, cock pulsing with his heartbeat, hair disheveled from her grabbing it. She couldn't really tell why they'd thought he was ugly as children, or so sour. He seemed like a raven-haired god, kneeling between her legs, confident that he'd please her. Even though he'd seemed desperate to find his own release just moments ago, when she met his eyes, all she could see was herself. He had a very firm idea of what he wanted to do to her, how he was going to make her writhe, how to keep her from feeling uncomfortable, and an amazing grasp on what she must be feeling, even though he could barely read her thoughts in the flickering candlelight.

She found herself unwilling to protest as he adjusted his position, getting comfortable between her legs, his face close enough she could feel his breath against her thighs. She heard the quiet pop of the bottle being uncorked, and closed her eyes, trying not to focus on the contents, or what was coming, or exactly what the plan was. It was better, she'd found, to simply get swept away.

He feel of his mouth kissing along her thigh made her gasp, and she felt each press of his lips, each subtle swipe of his tongue with mounting anticipation as he came closer and closer to the apex of her need. She wanted this. She needed this.

His tongue was skilled as he finally kissed her sex, and when he added a finger, a moan slid from her mouth. She felt the slight stretch as he added another finger, pumping them into that perfect spot, his tongue sweeping her into a quick orgasm as she clutched at his hair, her back arching off the bed.

"I love how easy it is to make you cum." He growled, kissing his way up her stomach, pushing the thin fabric of her nightgown up, until he'd exposed her breasts to his ministrations. She couldn't form a reply as he suckled and nipped at first one nipple, then the other, his fingers still sliding in and out of her slowly. When he pulled his fingers free, she groaned at the loss, wanting him to continue pleasuring her until she turned into a formless puddle, but he paused, his eyes staring down into her as the much larger promise of his cock pressed against her entrance instead.

"Tell me what you want, Hermione." He panted, his eyes taking in her face, the slight part of her lips, the flush of her cheeks, her bright, yet hazy eyes.

"I want you." She breathed, trying to pick from his thoughts what he wanted her to say. It wasn't easy, she was too unfocused, and his mind was too hectic, a mishmash of sensations and desires all running together to confuse with her own.

"What do you want me to do?" He teased, rubbing the head of his member up and down, muddling her thoughts even more. She wasn't afraid this time, she knew it shouldn't hurt. She was more than okay with losing her virginity to this man. But what was he asking for?

"I want you to make love to me." She demanded breathily, pulling him in for a kiss. He kissed her gently, appeasing her request, and she felt the strangest, most pleasurable sensation. He was sliding into her, she could feel the unfamiliar stretch of something so large, but there wasn't even a tingle of discomfort. With one easy movement, she was no longer a virgin. She gasped against his lips as he kept filling her, well beyond where his fingers had stopped, making her feel full in a new way.

"Does it hurt at all?" He asked, finally stopping, his hips pressed to her thighs. She shook her head, unable to form words. It was the strangest feeling, having so much of him inside of her, it brought more meaning to the word 'intimate'. When he kissed her again, she could feel him roll his hips, both against her legs, and her inner walls. She gasped as he moved slowly, trying to categorize the shockwaves that seemed to resonate from the movement. He kissed her again, a slow deep kiss that matched the pace of his hips.