What's next?
Yes, I'm Serious
I saw the shift in him, but I didn’t know what it meant. I felt it in him, though. In the way that he touched me and the way that he twitched for me. In the way his cock throbbed, the head of him pulsing so hot and so heady at the entrance to me. In the way his hands tensed, his grip tightening on my body as I held my breath and waited for him to make his next move.
Oh God. I felt him pull back. I felt him hover, just ready to thrust forward. I took in a long and shuddering breath and my eyes went wide as I stared into his steely gaze in the moment before he broke it.
Shaking his head. Pulling back. Pulling away from me.
“Emily, “ he said, his voice low and even and almost uncertain, “Are you being serious right now?”
“Daddy,” I mewled at him but he snapped and snarled at me.
“Are you really a virgin?”
God his voice, his tone, his everything just spoke of his disappointment in me. In this moment I felt every single minute of his age, of the gulf of years between us.
Swallowing hard I nodded.
“I can’t do this,” he denied me, stepping back with finality and tugging his pants back up, “I can’t fucking do this.”
“But I want it,” I protested, reassuring him, “I want you to-“
“You don’t know what you want,” he snapped, cutting me off, “I hate to play this card, Emily, but you’re too young to know what you want.”
“I’m old enough,” I sneered, but I noticed that my voice and my tone made me seem like such an impetuous child and I blushed, looking away and knowing that any argument I made here would only fall on deaf ears.
“I know you think that and he’ll it might even be true but then again it might now. Either way I know that it’s a chance I can’t take.”
“Why?” I mocked him, “Are you afraid my real daddy will get angry with you?”
“Its not about that, Emily,” he told me, picking his words carefully and clearly imploring me to listen, “It’s that I don’t want to be someone that you’ll regret. It’s for you, more than anyone or anything else.”
I opened my mouth to say something but then thought better of it. Closing my mouth and listening to him instead.
“You are so beautiful, so entrancing, and so undeniably sexy. I would be a lucky man indeed to be with you, and a luckier man than I deserve to be your first. But I don’t want to be someone that you regret, Emily. I want your first time-“
“What if I want it to be with you?” I told him, “What if I want it to be with someone I can trust to make me feel good? To make it an experience to remember?”
“That’s too much to put on me,” he said honestly, sincerely, “It’s too much for me to bear.”
Lucas stepped away and reached down to pluck up my towel. He handed it to me, keeping it at arms length and I sat there, petulant and unwilling to give ground.
“What about what I want?” I asked him, “What about what I need?”
He swallowed hard and breathed out slowly, looking me in the eye and trying to figure out what he could say.
“And what about what you want too?” I challenged him, “Because I felt you and I know you. I know you want me, just as much as I want you.”
Lucas considered my words for a very long time, a growing silence expanding between us. And as the seconds passed my confidence dwindled along with the fire of need in my belly.
And inch by inch and moment by moment I started to feel so much smaller, until it was with a tiny and feminine and awkward hand that I reached out to take the towel he offered to me and slid down off the counter to wrap it around my body.
“Don’t expect me to thank you for this,” I sneered at him.
He laughed without mirth, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
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