Love At First Bite Part 16

"It... oh G.o.d... it feels so good, but hurts a little, too."

He nodded, unable to speak for a moment, his eyes sliding shut as the sensation of a near convulsion swept through him. "I kn-nn-ow," he stammered, then nestled even more of him within her. "Let me put it in slowly, then you get used to it, before I move."

A hard shudder claimed him as she stroked his chest, her graceful, soft fingers grazing over his nipples. When her hands slid over his a.s.s, he was barely lucid. Every impulse within him hovered on the very shaky border of moving in hard-driving jabs, yet her tear-filled eyes held such trust that he had to open his, stare at hers, just to remain nearly sane.

In slow increments he entered her deeper, watching her writhe beneath him, the suffering of want becoming hot need as he lowered his weight on her fully and kissed her hard. Her thras.h.i.+ng, her touches, her soft moans that he swallowed, the tight, slick, contracting sheath she pumped against him in urgent mini-upthrusts, broke him. His hands found her wet hair once more, his tongue diving at hers the way he wanted to move inside her. Short, even strokes soon became longer thrusts bordering on desperation. He stopped when she cried out his name and spent hard, his burning forehead pressed against her shoulder.

"Why'd-"

"I have to stop. Now or never."

He clung to her, trembling, begging her with his mind not to move, lest he explode and accidentally fill her with his seed. But

pulling out was going to be painful, worse than having dental work done without Novocain. He lied to himself, trying to make it seem rational that he'd pull out in a moment, as soon as that got easier to do. Never happen. It was gonna be a b.i.t.c.h no matter what.

He tilted his head, took a deep breath, and squeezed his eyes shut and withdrew with a hissing inhale. "Oh, s.h.i.+t..."

Her caress found his face and her arms held him closer to her. "Papi, I'm so sorry I'm not on the pill."

"Shush," he whispered into her hair. "Don't call me sweet names while I'm in a way like this. Let me get myself together."

"But you let me over and over again." She hugged him tighter. "I never thought it could be like this."

Didn't she understand that she was making him crazy, making him rethink his position, lying between her spread thighs, his

member pulsing, so close but so far?

"Baby-"

Her kiss stopped his words; the heat of her hand stole his breath.

"That's not fair," she whispered against his ear, her hand moving swiftly up and down his slick, engorged shaft.

In no position to argue, he grasped her around the waist tightly, convulsed with a low sonic-boom moan that bounced off the

tiles, and collapsed, breathing hard.

Dawn crept through the windows, adding pink and orange paint to the white ceramic tiles around them. Only his deep pants chasing hers echoed within the tiny s.p.a.ce. "I think we need to take another shower before my grand-pops and abuela come home." He'd spoken without opening his eyes but could feel her nod and sweet acceptance with a kiss before she struggled to get up. "Yeah, Jose, I'll die if your grandparents ever see me like this."

Chapter Four.

As he helped Juanita to her feet, after-the-fact guilt gnawed at him. Just seeing the slightest wince flit across her pretty face let him know he should have waited. A woman like this didn't deserve to have her first time be a heated rush on a bathroom floor. d.a.m.n, what had he been thinking?

Jose cupped her cheek. "I'm going to run into the kitchen for a second and will be right back, then-"

"No. You promised you wouldn't leave me," she said, holding him tightly, her eyes growing wide.

"How about this," he said softly. "You sit on the edge of the tub, hold the rifle, I'll leave the door open and will talk real loud-

nonstop-so you can hear me. We'll keep talking during the thirty seconds it'll take. Then I'll wash you up in the shower." He held her face with trembling hands and kissed her gently. "You trust me?"

She begrudgingly nodded and loosened her grip on him. "Do I have to hold the rifle, though?"

"No, just stand by the door, then, and leave it open. Talk to me while I walk the short distance. It's only like twenty-five feet down the hall."

"What are you gonna do?"

"I'm gonna go get something that'll make you feel better."

He swept her mouth with another quick kiss, opened the door, and began talking loudly as he dashed through the house. "So,

what are you in the mood for? Breakfast, a sandwich, maybe some soup?" he hollered as he yanked open the freezer, grabbed an ice tray, and ran back toward the bathroom.

"Wow, that was fast," she said, hiding her body behind a damp towel. She stared down at the tray of ice. "What's that for?"

He just smiled. "You'll see," he said, and turned on the shower water again, closing the bathroom door behind him. He motioned to the tub with a nod. "C'mon. Hop in."

She gave him a quizzical look but slipped into the spray like he'd asked. The sound of ice breaking filled the tiny room, and within moments he'd joined her in the water with ice in his fist.

"Turn around and face the water," he murmured against her neck.

She did what he'd asked but had questions. "What are you going to do?" She gazed at his fist, trying to keep her face out of the spray.

"Relax and lean back against me," he said in a gentle command, sliding one palm across her belly as he lowered his ice-filled fist

near her mound. He kissed her shoulder. "Open your legs... I know it's tender there, like a friction burn."

When she complied, he cupped his hand against her, allowing warm water to blend with the ice and pour a cool, soothing stream of relief over her bud, the swollen lips of her delicate flower, and where he was sure it hurt the most.

"Oh G.o.d... that feels wonderful," she whispered, melting against his chest the way the ice was melting in his hand.

"Bueno," he whispered against her ear. "All I ever want you to feel with me is good."

He applied a gentle caress to the fragile haven that had taken him in, and could soon feel a different slickness from just water

spilling against his fingers as the ice disappeared. The sensation made him want to move against her again, but he'd already done enough.

"Hand me the soap," he ordered quietly. "Let me wash you off." With her leaning against him, eyes closed, the spray pummeling her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, he lathered his hands and then gave her the bar of Ivory soap to hold. He took great care in sudsing her delicate throat, her collarbone, her arms and shoulders, and then allowed his hands to revel in the varying textures of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, the soap a slickened glide over her soft skin. Her quiet whimper of pleasure made him focus on her nipples perhaps longer than he should have, but he couldn't help it. That part of her required special attention. A dull ache burning him again, he slid his hands away and simply kissed her neck to regain his focus.

As he repeatedly took the soap bar from her, he added more lather and worked his way down her torso and belly, stopping to spread wide, slow circles over her navel. She didn't say a word but just pressed her backside to him in a way that produced a shudder. The moment his palm slid against silky hair, he petted the tender area in silent apology. Next time would be the way she deserved.

He could feel her thighs parting but took great care to rinse soap away, lest it sting. He reached for the soap and then slid down to a squat behind her, kissing the firm rise of her behind while splaying his hands along her shapely legs to coat them, caress them, kissing the backs of her thighs until she fell forward with both hands pressed flat against the tile wall.

Looking up at her wet behind from that position was tearing him up. But rather than hurt her again in an impatient rush, he soaped the backs of her legs and slowly stood to make soapy swirls over the firm swell of her bottom. The dip in her spine called his name, made him kiss it deeply and then plant kisses up her spine, finding each vertebra to anoint with his mouth, followed by soap. By the time his hands slid over her shoulders, she'd released a low moan and had leaned against him again. Soap created a slick emulsion on her back and sweet a.s.s, causing him to slide against the slippery surface and release a quiet moan.

They said nothing as they moved against each other, but he dared not enter her again. The first time had been Russian roulette. His shaft had filled so hard and so fast his greatest fear at the moment was that she was already pregnant. One drop was all that was necessary.

"I should probably make you something to eat," he murmured thickly against her hair. "If we keep this up..."

"I know," she whispered, "but..."

"I can't promise I can control it this time."

She nodded but didn't stop grinding her backside against his length. He understood more than she knew, and slid his hand down her belly until she moaned at the touch that found her bud.

"Is it still tender?" he whispered, gently ma.s.saging the outer folds that hid the pouting k.n.o.b of flesh.

"It throbs," she whispered, s.h.i.+vering. "I've never felt anything like this in my life."

"The water's getting cold," he murmured into her ear, then swallowed hard.

"But it feels like it's on fire."

Her voice had come out in a quiet, strangled rush. Each time he moved against her, the muscles in her backside clenched, gripping him and driving him nuts. Cupping her breast with one hand, he kept the other palm moving in a slow, gentle graze against the tender region between her parted thighs. She needed to release again, and he could tell how close she was... just like him.

Water spilled down her chest and belly, and he caught it in a slight cup of his palm between her legs, allowing the water to add to his touch, sending it between the hot, sensitive lips in a pulse that matched his gentle thumb flick.

In total trust, she'd reached back with lathered hands, finding him, stroking him, almost making him forget that he couldn't put it in again. When she came hard, her grip made his eyes cross beneath his lids. His body found a demanding rhythm against the outside of her soap-slicked a.s.s at the same time his arms found anchor around her waist. Close to madness, he forgot about the possible danger of a slip-and-fall injury; he had to let her worry about that. She braced her hands against the tiles; he braced for the swift convulsion that dredged his groin and sent jerking, twitching spasms into his limbs.

This didn't make sense. He lifted his head from her shoulder and they both turned around in the spray to rinse off again. He took her mouth hard this time and then held her face to look at her without playing.

"I have to put my pants on," he told her firmly, saying it out loud more for his benefit than hers. "We have to get out of the bathroom. One more go-round like this, and I'll lose it."

He stepped out of the shower and s.n.a.t.c.hed his pants off the floor, wondering how in the world one could get out of a shower sweating. He didn't even bother to dry off, nor did he look back. The rifle went with him the moment his pants were drawn on, the fabric clinging. The soft padding of her bare feet was immediately behind him. The decision was clear-at full sunrise, he had to ride. At full sunrise, he had to find some gas. At full sunrise, he had to go into town. Full sunrise demanded action. Find a drugstore and some condoms.

Speechless, she slowly slid onto a kitchen chair, watching him quickly open and shut cabinets and the refrigerator and then reach down with plates and a bowl, slamming them on the counter hard. Eggs. .h.i.t and splattered a black frying pan. Sh.e.l.ls and egg whites got hurled at a trash can, leaving a long, clear ooze across the counter in the wake of his rush. All she could do was stare at it, remembering... the spilled whites a reminder to be more careful next time.

Bread got jammed into a toaster and the heating bar slapped hard to begin toasting it. Suddenly he'd slid two gla.s.ses on the counter and sloppily poured orange juice into them. Bacon went into a too-hot pan and sizzled. She tried to stand, but her legs felt like jelly. This man was so fine and so s.e.xy, and the things he'd done to her body made her briefly close her eyes. But he seemed angry, like she'd really done something wrong. For a long while she stared at him, summoning the courage to find out what her offense had been so that she could swiftly correct it.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly.

"Yeah, I'm cool," he said, slapping eggs on a plate and flinging a piece of toast beside it.

She didn't say a word as bacon popped and sputtered, half-black on one side, half-raw on the other.

"Jose, what's wrong? If I didn't do something the way you liked back there-"

He stopped rus.h.i.+ng about, let out a deep breath, and closed his eyes. "Hey, I'm sorry."

"If I didn't do it right, I'm-"

"No, it's not like that," he said, turning away. "d.a.m.n! Bacon's burnt. You okay with just eggs and toast?"

"I'm sorry if you're used to being with more experienced... I mean..."

He turned off the burners, leaned on the counter, and allowed his head to fall forward with his eyes closed. " 'Nita, baby, I'm not

angry at you; I'm angry at me."

"Why?"

He looked up at her and held her gaze. "I shouldn't have started all that in the bathroom. You deserved a better place, better

circ.u.mstances, for your first time."

His urgent reply made her face hot.

"I wanted to as much as you did," she said quietly. "It was more than I'd ever dreamed of... the way you make me feel. But then

you seemed angry and-"