The 'Burg: Hold On Part 43

I gave up on the b.u.t.tons because I had no choice. My legs were failing. I curled my hands in his shirt and leaned into his body, pressing my b.r.e.a.s.t.s to his chest.

He moved his mouth to my ear.

"Lift your arms, Cherie."

I uncurled my fingers and lifted my arms.

Merry drew back and slid the dress slowly the rest of the way, exposing most of me because I wasn't wearing a bra, though I had on a lacy black thong.

His eyes dropped to me as he tossed the dress aside. Then his hands came back at the sides of my upper ribs and slid down as his gaze roamed.

G.o.d, he didn't even need to touch me.

G.o.d, I'd never gone this slow. Never been this turned on, not with virtually nothing happening.

I'd never wanted something so badly.

No, someone.

"Merry," I whispered, and even I could hear the need dripping from his name.

His eyes cut back to mine and I couldn't beat back my gasp at the hungry blaze I saw burning deep before his fingers dug into my flesh, lifting.

I hopped up as he brought me to him, shifting. I curled my legs around his hips and he put a knee in the bed, his mouth coming to mine.

My back met bed as his mouth opened over mine and his tongue slid inside.

From then, it didn't go any less slow. Merry guiding, me following his lead, we touched. We kissed. We tasted. We trailed. I got his shirt off him. He separated long enough to rid himself of his shoes and socks. He gently dragged my panties down my legs. I went after his belt and held his gaze as he lay on his back in the bed and bucked his hips while I pulled his trousers and boxers down his.

Naked, it didn't go any faster. It wasn't about experience. Feeding the need. Taking what you wanted. Getting into your head and getting lost in the feeling.

It also wasn't exploring.

It was memorizing.

Basking.

Worshiping.

I was so into him, it was unreal. Listening. Watching. What a touch would do. The trail of my tongue. The nip of my teeth. The stroke of my hand.

I was dragging my lips along the crisp hair over the hard muscle of his stomach with a destination in mind when he pulled me up and showed me he was where I was.

That being, he was so into me, it was unreal. Listening. Watching. What his touch did to me. The trail of his tongue. The nip of his teeth. The stroke of his hand.

It might have been fifteen minutes; it might have been three hours. All I knew was by the time he was finally ready to give me what I needed, I was more ready to get it than I'd ever been in my life.

And even that he gave me in a way only Merry could give me.

He righted us in his bed, my head to his pillows, strangely proper, powerfully proper, like this time, our first time as an us, taking a shot at what we could be, he was going to do it right.

He reached toward the nightstand, his eyes never leaving mine.

I curled my legs around his thighs, careful of the shoes I was still wearing, not wanting to spike him with a heel, my arms gliding around his back, my gaze locked to his.

He kept it that way as his lips fell to mine and he murmured, "Take care of this for me, baby."

He found my hand and pressed the condom in it.

I didn't f.u.c.k around unwrapping it.

But when I brought it between us and found his c.o.c.k, I took my time rolling it on.

I watched the hunger burn in his eyes and my erratic breathing became panting, feeling his thick c.o.c.k pulse under my fingers.

When I got the condom to the base, he nipped my lower lip with his teeth.

s.h.i.t yeah.

I tightened my hold on him with my limbs, through all this our eyes connected. They stayed connected as I slid him through my wet, touching my tongue to my lower lip as his teeth sunk into his.

G.o.d, f.u.c.king, f.u.c.king Merry.

Just that...so hot.

I led him to my opening and he immediately pushed in half an inch.

I let out a soft gust of breath, sliding my hand away, across his hip, around, up his spine, into his hair.

When I had a hold, slowly-G.o.d, so unbelievably, beautifully slowly-Garrett Merrick filled me.

Connected with me.

Became a part of me.

I stared at him and felt it. Felt him inside. Felt his heat. His weight. Felt his arms wrapped around me. Felt my body wrapped around him.

I felt all that and I felt something else.

My eyes were not burning. No dryness. No pain.

They were wet.

Merry stared into them, the heat in his not waning but a new warmth joining it, before his head slanted and he kissed me.

Then he made love to me.

I was far from a virgin.

But that was my first time.

My first time ever.

My first time where a man thought enough about me to make love to me.

It was slow. It was tender. It included wet kisses. Eye contact. Silent communication. I touched him, clutched him, held him to me.

He drove deep and rhythmic, his arms wrapped around me.

It was there but it built, the slow, constant pounding of him against my c.l.i.t, his c.o.c.k inside me. When it started to come over me, I knew it was going to happen with just his c.o.c.k and it was going to be bigger than anything.

"Merry," I whispered, my hand moving from his a.s.s up to his hair, my fingers clenching.

He stroked in and, suddenly, it bolted through me.

"Merry," I gasped, his mouth hitting mine, his tongue touching the tip of mine, and I moaned down his throat.

The slow left him and he went faster, harder, driving into me, pounding deep, bodies connected, mouths connected, his tongue now as greedy as his c.o.c.k thrusting inside, my o.r.g.a.s.m swelling and hovering.

I kept hold on his hair, my legs curling tight around his thighs, my arm slanting across his back, fingers pressing in the muscle of his lat, anchoring him to me as whimpers escaped, filling his mouth, my body under his trembling.

When finally he broke the kiss but not the connection of our lips, his grunts mingling with my whimpers.

He planted his c.o.c.k deep and groaned, "Cher," before his body bucked and his growl of release filled my mouth.

After he gave me that, he tore his mouth from mine and thrust once more, hard and deep, while he moved to press his forehead into the side of my neck.

I felt it leave him as it left me and I began stroking him, running the tips of my fingers through his hair, tracing the defined lines of the muscles of his back, the rest of me unmoving.

Merry's arms gave me a powerful squeeze before he shifted to kiss my neck and then lifted his head.

He looked into my eyes.

I looked into his.

I kept stroking.

Merry took one arm from around me, wrapped his hand around my neck, and moved his thumb along my throat, up, sweeping it over my jaw, up, across my cheek, then over my lips where he left it gliding, back and forth, back and forth. A gentler kind of claiming, even though there was nothing left of me to be claimed.

If he wanted me, I belonged to Garrett Merrick.

All of me.

We stayed this way a long time. No words.

But they weren't needed. For once in my life, I hoped, I prayed, I dreamed that I was getting it right and this was what it seemed to be.

Without warning, but doing it gently, he slid out and rolled off, shifting me as he did so I was on my side.

He disengaged just as slowly, my legs automatically closing as they lost purchase on his hips.

He was at the side of the bed, through all this never losing eye contact with me. He lost it only when his gaze swept the length of me.

When it came back, he said quietly, "Don't move."

I nodded.

He got out of bed and walked to one of the three doors in the room.

The light went on inside it as he disappeared and I saw it was a bathroom.

He'd told me not to move, but with him gone, I realized I was in Garrett Merrick's bedroom, so I took that opportunity to quickly look around.

From what I'd seen of the rest of his pad, I wasn't surprised to see not much here either. Two nightstands. Two lamps on them. A tall, six-drawer dresser. A lamp on that. The bed.

On the nightstand that was right in front of me, there was change, crumpled receipts, a used pack of gum, a lighter, and not much else.

Looking over my shoulder to the other one and the dresser, there seemed to be more detritus of this type, an alarm clock, and not much else.

Except there were three trophies on his dresser, but not like they were on display. Like they'd been put there, pushed aside, or shifted when more room was needed. On the top of one was a man standing, rifle to his shoulder, eye to the sight. The top of another trophy that was not quite as tall (but still tall) had another man, same pose, but holding a handgun. The last one that was slightly shorter had a man on his stomach, his rifle aimed.

But that was it.

Just like the rest of his place. Functional and a lot of nothing else.

The one surprise was the furniture. Although there were no prints on the walls, no personality, the furniture in this room was really nice. Fabulous wood that was in a medium stain, not dark, not light. In the drawers on the dresser and nightstands, but in a far more spectacular way with the high headboard, the wood was set in a chevron design that was gorgeous, manly, but it was something I would not object to having for me.

The light went out in the bathroom and I lost interest in Merry's furniture when I saw Merry making his way back to me.

Yes, the hair on his stomach that pointed to what was not right then a buried treasure (but not long ago it had been a treasure buried in me) was awe-inspiring.

The treasure it was pointed to was just awesome.

Garrett Merrick had a beautiful c.o.c.k, even now as it was, semi-hard after making love to me.

The length was perhaps just above average.

It was the girth that meant everything.

I lost sight of it, sadly, when the room went dark.

I felt the bed move, the bedclothes being whipped around. That stopped when I found my ankle in Merry's grip, and even in the dark, he made short work of unbuckling my sandal and sliding it off. He moved to the other one. That accomplished, the bed shifted again, then I found the covers over me about a half a second before I found myself wound up in Merry.

"Pains me to say this," he started after he'd settled us how he wanted us (and, to make it clear, how I wanted it to be, maybe for eternity). "But I ain't twenty anymore. You starin' at my d.i.c.k like that, sweetheart, after what we just had, you're gonna have to give me some time." He paused before he finished, "Least twenty, thirty minutes."

I laughed softly as I pushed closer to Garrett Merrick in his bed, his naked body tied up in me.

He must have liked that because his arms tightened around me.