Natasha
Things aren't going my way.
Definitely.
First, I shouldn't be in Steve's apartment. In my mind's eye, when I said I didn't want to go through with that sex thing anymore, he'd dump me at home and that would be the end of it. At least as far as my insane idea of going to bed with him is concerned.
It would be sad and really a shame, especially after the free sample he had given me with his kiss which, contrary to what I had said, was spectacular. If I closed my eyes, I could still hear the fireworks.
And that's exactly why I can't have sex with him. I have a strong suspicion that once I pass your bed, nothing will ever be the same. My sex life will be defined as before and after Steve.
Probably the poor bastards who sleep with me later will be greatly harmed, as he will always be my source of comparison. And let's face it, getting another Steve in this lifetime will be practically a miracle. Lightning does not strike twice in the same place.
As we walk into his apartment, I wonder if Steve would agree for me to sleep in the laundry. He's been giving me a weird look since we got in the car. And I had even tried to get away with saying it was better to take me home, but he was quite emphatic in denying it. And I was left with no choice but to accept and pray that his family would believe me when I said my religion didn't allow me to sleep with my fiance. Unfortunately, I didn't even have time to give my Christian speech about the hellfire that awaited girls who lost their virginity before marriage, as everyone said good night and went to their respective guest rooms.
"Do you happen to have another room left?" I venture to ask, turning to Steve. And there it is, that fierce, almost demonic look.
Good heavens, what was going on with him?
"I don't have any more rooms, we'll have to share mine." "And down the hall."
Oh shit.
He stops at the door and motions for me to enter. I hesitate, like the devil is inviting me to a party.
Or his bed.
I go in all brave, after all, Steve can't make me do anything.
“I'm just looking at a bed…” I insist, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Let's share it,” he says calmly as he walks in and closes the door behind him.
My heart races, I don't even know if it's fear or anticipation.
“Wait, it's okay to share a room, but why share a bed?
You should be a gentleman and sleep, I don't know… on the floor!
He chuckles, stepping forward and starting to open his shirt.
Which? I widen my eyes, my face heating up, as Steve's Greek statue chest reveals itself.
- What are you doing?
— Taking off her sleeping clothes. You should do the same.
The shirt hits the floor and I try to take my eyes off him. Fuck, why does he have to be so perfect?
It's like a living statue of David.
Is he… taking off his pants?
I open my mouth, dumbfounded, my entire body heating up at the sight of him in nothing but black boxer briefs.
Oh my!
"I'm not taking my clothes off!" I say as he locks his gaze with mine again and I forget how to breathe, my mouth goes dry and my body goes into a kind of lethargy, heating and melting in strategic places.
Oh God, I'm so screwed.
Steve stops in front of me, so close within my reach, so… irresistible.
It's not fair at all. My brain short-circuits and stops working. I run my tongue over my parched lips, unable to move. Every cell in my body is screaming to merge with his, as if a magnet is pulling me toward it.
And it's at that moment that I understand, I see in his intense gaze on me that he didn't accept my refusal.
O!
I start to gasp as I realize that instead of running and running without looking back, I want to send my fears into space and embrace danger.
Throw myself into the fire that burns in his eyes.
In the promise that burns deep in the blue iris.
- Why are you doing this? I whisper, still trying to escape that trap.
- Because lied? — counters.
"I didn't lie, you really are a bad kisser," I insist.
He smiled. Dangerously. Beautifully.
And that smile does amazing things in my belly. Then he lifts his hand and touches my lips, which automatically open. Oh please.
My traitorous tongue touches his fingers. His eyes darken with desire.
"Maybe I should kiss you again."
Yes!
I mean no!
I take a step back and my knees touch the bed. Damn it!
— Take it, Steve, you're a bad kisser and most likely you're bad in bed too!
This time his eyes darken with anger. And I discover with a shiver of fear and anticipation that I have said the wrong thing.
Oops!
And in the next second, Steve pulls me up sharply and lowers his lips to mine.
And, if the other kiss was spectacular, this one I can't even describe!
I probably would have fallen to the ground if he didn't have hishands firmly pressed to my back. Right now, those same hands are sliding, burning and pulling my hair, while their tongue is making misery with mine. Heck, how does he do it? I dig my nails into his shoulders and let delighted moans escape my throat, my entire body tingling from head to toe. When the kiss ends, I'm breathing thinly and completely dizzy.
- It was bad? Steve bites my bottom lip and sighs, eyes still closed.
“Horrible,” I mutter, forcing my fingers to unglue them from his shoulders and opening my eyes to find his burning in me.
“We can try again,” he growls and kisses me again. This time it's different. Steve teases me with short, sweet kisses, savoring and urging me on, driving me crazy for more. Melting against him, I bite his lip eagerly causing him to moan and laugh.
- Too bad? he whispers into my mouth and I shake my head, causing his mouth to shift towards my chin. And it feels just as good, his lips sliding across my face, making a path of fire to my ear. "Who is a bad kisser?"
Oh God, he's kissing my neck and I'm really starting to lose control and it's a total disaster, even more so when his hands come down to my hips and squeeze.
Then the rest of my control goes away when I feel his erection.
I try to gather what's left of my sanity and find some coherent word inside my fuzzy brain.
- I'm not sure…
Steve lets out an irritated growl that only sends more shivers down my spine and lets go. For a moment I think I won. And instead of being happy I just want to cry in frustration like a child deprived of his favorite toy.
Then Steve pushes me towards the bed and I gasp in surprise and excitement.
“Okay, Natasha Romanoff, you're challenging me and I'm not running from a challenge,” he says fiercely, sliding on top of me and, wait, this shouldn't be happening, how do you stop that insane desire inside me?
When his mouth sways inches from mine, I can barely breathe from the anxiety.
Instead of kissing me, Steve pulls away and I open my eyes to see him looming over me like a god.
"Where else should I kiss you for you to understand, Natasha?" he asks with an expression of perversity that makes me shiver.
Then he reaches under my dress, starting to slide the pantyhose down my legs. His eyes locked with mine, as if daring me to tell him to stop. I can't even remember why I wanted to stop before, especially when my panties follow the same fate.
Steve lifts my dress and smiles at me before tucking his head between my legs.
Oh God…
My eyes roll out of their sockets as I feel his tongue teasing me wickedly, making hot, wet, pulsing pleasure settle where he's kissing. Disjointed moans escape my lips as I feel my entire being shatter with a pleasure that burns to the soul.
Damn he is good!
In record time I feel my body respond to that sensual onslaught of Steve Rogers' mouth and an overwhelming orgasm makes me arch my hips and scream, my fingers tugging at his hair as I shudder with the most incredible pleasure I've ever felt.
Holy crap!
I open my eyes to see him staring at me with a smirk.
I can only think that it can't be real. It's not possible.
I feel like building an altar in honor of Steve Rogers, the sex god. Maybe he becomes my religion and I can bring other women to praise his mythical figure.
No, it's not a good idea. No other women. Maybe I should really kidnap him and lock him up in my basement so he can do what he just did every day.
- And then? he asks smugly. Which is rather irritating, I must point out.
"That doesn't mean I'm not bad in bed," I snap and he lets out an irritated curse and frowns.
"You're teasing me, aren't you?" Do you want me to prove to you how I can be good at sex too?
I swallow dry. Just the word “sex” coming out of Steve's mouth makes my belly twist with desire again.
“Steve, I want to fuck you so bad it hurts, but honestly, I don't think it's such a good idea,” I confess.
He looks at me confused.
- Why not?
“Because it doesn't make sense.
“You thought it made a lot of sense when you proposed.
- Exactly. Are you going to say you didn't think it was insane? The truth is, I can't make him have sex with me.
“Natasha,” his voice comes out exasperated as he takes my hand and, without warning, places it over his erection. Oh my God. "Sounds like an obligation to you?" "He makes my fingers caress him."
We both moan.
“I want you,” he says against my lips.
My heart races in my chest.
“It's still not a good idea,” I whisper before kissing him.
Damn it!
I roll on top of Steve and kiss him with all my heart and I love the feel of his husky moans inside my mouth.
At theThe next minute he's hastily taking off my dress and the friction of our bare skin makes a new fire blaze inside me. Steve tosses me onto the bed again as he trails kisses down my neck, my lap, to my breasts.
And he works the magic there too, his tongue hard and hot, cupping one nipple, then the other, sucking hard until I'm trembling with anticipation and digging my nails into his back.
- Please…
- Please what? He laughs at my impatience and in retaliation I slide my hand down his six pack abs and shove my hand into his underwear, holding his erection between my fingers, teasing him and making him close his eyes and moan. Oh, he's beautiful like that, in my hands.
“Inside me… now! I whisper in his ear and he walks away to grab a condom from the dresser and take off his underwear before coming at me. “Yeah…” I mumble when I feel him filling me up.
It's simply sublime.
Perfect.
He holds my arms above my head and bites my lip.
"Is it good enough for you?" he growls, moving his hips furiously.
I can only moan, lost in sensation, he kisses me hard as he intensifies his thrusts, and again I'm floating in that perfect pleasure. This time, when I come, Steve follows me, moaning huskily in my ear, until we're both exhausted on the sheets.
Holy shit, what was that?
I feel like a steamroller has passed over me.
And I loved it.
In fact, I don't think I'll ever be able to move in my life again.
Maybe I need a wheelchair, like in that Latrell movie.
I start to laugh at the absurdity of the situation and Steve looks up, looking at me confused.
He looks handsome, his hair wet with sweat and still panting.
- What are you laughing about?
- Nothing. I reach up, brushing a strand of hair off her forehead.
My God, I like this guy.
“You're kind of crazy,” he says and I laugh even harder. I don't think I'll ever stop smiling.
“Maybe I am,” I whisper, closing my eyes and yawning.
- Did not answer me.
- What? I open my eyes, confused.
"Was it good enough for you?"
I roll my eyes. Hell, was he really worried about her performance?
"Maybe we'll have to do it again to convince myself... But can I get some sleep first?" "I yawn again."
He laughs and, to my surprise, kisses me slowly.
“Okay, Natasha Romanoff, go to sleep.
He gets up from the bed and goes towards the bathroom. I smile. He's a really nice view from the back too. I close my eyes satisfied and drift off to sleep.