"Have you got a condom?" I ask. Flicking open the glove box, he pulls out a strip and tears one off. I shift back, and my fingers search out his belt, unfastening it first and then moving to the button fly of his jeans. "Let me," I say, as my fingers trail the impressive outline of his cock through his underwear, making him jerk with sensation. Damien tears open the foil package with his teeth and passes me the ring of slippery latex. He adjusts his position so he can push his jeans a little lower and pull his cock out. And what a cock it is.
My mouth goes dry at the sight of the thick, long bar in his palm. My hand finds the hem of his shirt so I can pull it up and see more of him. His stomach is tight, and higher up, he does have a dusting of soft hair on his chest that I want to bury my face into. I place the condom on the rounded head of his dick and begin to roll it down. My fingers fumble and tremble, and his hands cup them on either side.
"Relax," he whispers, helping me to ease it into place.
Between my legs, I'm an aching mess. So much that I'm embarrassed when he slides up the hem of my dress and gets a look at everything there. His fingers trail a line down the front of my panties, his eyes fixed there too. "You're soaking," he says in awe.
Now it's my turn to blush. "Give me what I need," I say. "I'm ready."
"What do you need, baby?" he asks.
"What you promised me in the store."
His thick finger slides under the edge of my panties, testing my entrance and dipping just inside. There's no resistance, just slickness and building need, and he must sense it because before I can ask again, he's raising me up and angling his cock where his finger was and gripping my hips to help ease me down.
And oh God, I need help.
Rocking my hips, I take thick inch by thick inch, stretching so wide that it burns before it feels good. Damien's eyes are tightly closed, his nostrils flaring as I ease myself down and down, realizing that I'm never going to be able to take all of him. There's just too much.
"That's it," he says, his hand on my lower back, pressing me against him. His breath gusts over my cleavage as my clit rubs against his body with each thrust. I'm so wet that the sound of me moving is slick, just as he promised.
The skirt of my pretty white dress covers everything, the innocence of it such a contrast with what's happening beneath.
My legs begin to tremble as my pleasure builds. "My angel," Damien whispers against my ear, drawing my earlobe between his lips. "You know, from the moment I saw you, I wanted you. When I found out who you were, I thought it would never happen, but it has."
"Oh God," I groan as his hips begin thrusting upward, making the penetration even deeper.
"You like this big cock?" he hisses through gritted teeth as his cock seems to swell to even huger proportions inside me.
"I love it," I gasp.
"Yeah, you do," he says, anchoring me closer and grinding me into his body. My clit feels swollen, and my pussy stretched to its limits, and I know I'm going to come before I do.
"Don't stop," I whisper against Damien's neck. He smells of lemons and mint and sheer masculinity. And he doesn't stop. Instead, his thrusts get faster and shallower, pushing against the bundle of nerves inside me exactly the way I need.
This moment is everything I need. The rush of fucking in public like two college students such a change from the serious teacher role. I throw my head back, my eyes clenched shut and let go of everything. All the worries and hurt. All the feelings of not being enough, because Damien makes me feel like I’m all that he wants and all that he’ll ever need.
And then I'm coming and coming and coming, deep clenching waves of pleasure pulsing through me.
"Fuck," Damien grunts, still moving through it all. My palm is slick where it rests against the bare skin of his chest, and when he comes inside me, I get to feel the frantic racing of his heart and the swelling of his mammoth cock.
I get to feel the surrender of a man who could crush me with just one hand but who never would.
Damien. My gentle giant.
A gift from Tyler, or am I a gift to Damien? Who knows, and who cares?
As I come down from the stratosphere, I rest my face on the soft hair in the middle of his muscular chest and listen to the pounding of his heart, wondering how long I can let this version of life wash over me before I need to return to Suzanne's basement and the fragments of my life from before.