Take What You Want

Joey's heart was beating in his chest so hard, he could hear it pounding in his ears. Her body, Bianca's body, was warm pressed against his, her lips so close he could almost taste her breath. She was a stranger, a woman who had served him dinner one time, and yet she wanted, needed, a level of intimacy from him that he'd never had with anyone before. His mind screamed at him to stop, to think, to not do this. Was this even right? If he gave in, what kind of man would he be?

But then, another thought crept in, slipping past his resistance like a whisper in the dark: this was who Bianca was now. He couldn’t undo it. He had accidentally explained this into her, and it had settled, permanent and undeniable, into the very core of her being. Bianca wasn't being manipulated. She wasn’t brainwashed. She had accepted this as her truth. And if that was the case… did it even matter if he fought it?

His resolve crumbled.

Bianca seemed to sense the shift immediately. Her lips curled into a knowing smile, her fingers trailing up his chest like she was savoring every inch of him. Joey held his breath as she slid her hands around his neck, pulling herself even closer. She was warm, soft, inviting.

His hands hovered uncertainly at her waist. Was he really doing this? His heart pounded, his mind still screaming at him to stop, to think. But the heat of her body against his, the way she looked at him—like he was exactly what she wanted—was drowning out that voice.

"That's it," she whispered, her lips brushing against his jaw. "Just let go, Joey. Take what you want."

Take what I want?

The words sent a shiver through him. His whole life, it had never felt like he got to take. He'd always been waiting—waiting for permission, waiting to be enough. And now, here she was, offering herself completely, no hesitation, no doubt.

His fingers tensed, then began to slide lower, gripping the curve of her hips. Bianca let out a pleased hum, shifting even closer, her body molding against his. The thin fabric of her blouse did nothing to hide the heat of her skin, the way she fit against him so perfectly.

And then he kissed her.

It was ****, unsteady at first. He wasn't sure what he was doing, wasn't sure if he was even doing it right, having only ever kissed two other women, both in the last two days. Bianca didn't hesitate. She melted into him, parting her lips, pressing up against him in a way that made his head swim.

Oh, God.

His hands moved on their own, roaming the dip of her back, the curve of her waist. Bianca's fingers slid into his hair, tugging just enough to send a sharp jolt down his spine. He groaned against her lips, his grip tightening. This was happening.

She arched into him, sighing softly, encouraging him with every little movement. His pulse pounded in his ears, drowning out everything but the feel of her, the taste of her. He was losing himself in it, in her.

And for once, he didn't care.

Somehow the pair made their way away from the door, through the apartment, and into the bedroom. Joey was far beyond rational thought. He existed purely in instinct, driven by need. He needed Bianca. The past few days had been chaotic, stressful, but rewarding. But nothing, not his evening with Eliza, not his night-time encounter with his mother, approached what he was feeling right then. Bianca was a whirlpool of passion, and Joey dove in without hesitation, gladly drowning in her.

Her hands, which had held him so tightly, slipped down and began to work his belt, then his button, then his fly. His lips never leaving hers, Joey kicked his pants away from him. Following suit, Joey attempted to work the buttons on Bianca's blouse, but found himself significantly less adept at undressing someone else. As if noticing Joey's attention being drawn into the task rather than his own pleasure, Bianca violently ripped the shirt open, buttons flying everywhere. Then she dropped her skirt, kicking it away from her too.

She stepped away from him for a moment, a look of lust in her eyes, an appreciative smirk on her lips. She was beautiful. She stood before him in nothing but a white lacy push-up bra and matching panties, her expression free of shame as Joey took in the sight.

"I hope you like it," she said, running her hands up and down her body, "It's all yours."

Joey's own underwear was failing miserably at its job. His erection, harder than he had ever felt before, had long escaped the confines of his waistband. There was no denying it: what it wanted, what he wanted, was standing in front of him, offering herself to him freely.

She stepped forward again. Gently, she lifted Joey's t-shirt over his head, then, her lips touching his neck, then chest, then stomach, she slid his underwear down, pausing when her face was in front of his groin, anointing it with the soft, loving kiss. Joey shook with pleasure, not just from the sensation, but from the very idea of what she was doing.

Straightening, she brought her lips back up to Joey's, her left hand gently gripping his cock.

"I need this in me," she said in a tone Joey had never heard from a woman before, "now."

Then she turned, bent forward over the bed, her rear end facing toward Joey, and brought one hand back, pulling her underwear to one side.

"Please," she begged, "Please Joey, take what you want."

And Joey did.

It was new territory, having sex with a woman, but Joey didn't hesitate. He'd seen it on porn, he'd imagined it countless times. Stepping up behind her, his cock meeting her waiting hand, and was guided into her waiting vagina. His hands gripping her hips, he stood there, fully immersed in Bianca's body, and shook with pleasure. It was unlike anything he'd felt before. He never wanted it to end.

And then she began to move.

Slowly at first, then with increasing rhythm, Bianca moved like a machine designed to coax pleasure out of Joey's nervous system. He began to moan loudly with every movements, meeting every gyration with a thrust, faster and faster, deeper and deeper. His heart still pounded loudly in his ears, but now it was from exertion. Sweat began to form on his brow unnoticed. He didn't care. Bianca was his world. Bianca was his air. Bianca was his blood. Each thrust, each movement, each touch, brought him closer to bliss. He could feel her muscles around his erection, squeezing, holding, as if her entire body was focused on his pleasure.

Which, had he had the cognitive ability to think clearly, he would have realized it was.

Bianca's moans matched his, but hers were animalistic, guttural, interspersed with cries of his name and repeated gasps of, 'Yes! Yes! Yes!'

Then Joey felt it, a tightening in his scrotum, a shiver up his spine. His fingers dug deeply into Bianca's hips, and he came like a thunderstorm. Again and again, he felt fountains of cum leave his body, filling his lover, who eagerly accepted it with encouraging mewls. He shook, his breath coming in ragged bursts. His knees wobbled, but he stood firm, pressed into Bianca as if his life depended on it.

And then, it was over. Joey trembled, post-orgasmic pleasure washing over him, before he finally slipped free and collapsed onto the bed beside her. Immediately she was on the bed next to him, her face close to his, delivering sweet, tender kisses, punctuated by soft words of thanks.

Joey stared, lost in the depths of her brown eyes. Was this what love felt like? He knew nothing about Bianca. She was just some girl he met one time. Barely met. And yet the physical generosity she had shown him, the welcoming, the affection, all of it elicited something new and unexpected in him. Yes, he had just had sex for the first time, but he was sure that this was something more. Something profound. Something deep.

It was this thought he clung to as his eyes drifted shut, surrendering to the deep, satisfied sleep that follows desire fully spent.