62: Shocked

Jesse

     Marie screams my name. Oh yes. That's what Daddy needs to hear. Scream it, Baby!

     She's so fucking tiny; our first time is going to be incredible.

      I groan as I think about it.

      Her hips start moving as I fuck her with my face, her movements an instinctual reaction to every swipe of my tongue. She's completely under my control, and I feel her body shudder. She's close.

       Yeah, baby. Give it to me!

      "Oh, shit, Jesse!" she screams.

      I should've counted the number of times she's screamed it. Oh well. Next time.

      If this is new to her, I'd better make this damn good.

      I aid her orgasm with my tongue before quickly pulling my head back and sliding in two of my fingers to press hard on her sweet spot, wondering how far I can take them.

      God, she's beautiful, I think as I watch her body move to my fingers' movements. I press in a little more.

      She has a hymen.

     Oh holy fuck! I scream in my head as I gasp. She's a virgin!

      I feel all the blood leave my face as I pull my fingers out of her. I then plant my face into the sheets, not sure if I want to scream, cry, or (strangely) laugh.

       A shaky breath escapes me as I see everything with a new perspective... everything we've said, everything I've done, everything I've said..., and I want to beat the shit out of myself.

       She didn't have sex with any of them, I think as I hear her breathing start to get under control. I pushed... so hard... tonight... almost every night like this... to an innocent.

       Sure, she's eight years younger, but she'd had three serious boyfriends. I assumed... I was an ass.

       Why didn't she tell me?

       I sit up and look at her. Why didn't I guess it before?

       I crawl up a little towards her to make my head level with hers as I patiently (I hope anyway) ask, "Marie?" She stirs, indicating she's aware but still out of it. "When were you going to tell me you're a virgin?"

        She freezes as what I asked sinks in. Please don't get upset.

        Her hands come up and cover her face in a gesture of embarrassment. No! Don't be embarrassed!

       "Marie, don't -"

       "I'm sorry!" she cries through her hands.

       "No! I'm only a little shocked. Don't cry again, please." I pull her to me and try to comfort her, but she adamantly pushes me away. Then, I watch, broken-hearted, as she works on pulling the sheet over her head.

      No you don't!

      I reach around to get under the sheet myself and pull her against me, her back to my front. Then I jerk the sheet off her head so she can't hide.

      "Don't you try and push me away and go try to hide from me, Marie. I won't let you," I growl.

      "Leave me alone."

      "No."

      She takes a couple of shaky breaths and stops trying to break free. "Okay. I should've told you, but how? That's not exactly an easy conversation topic. Besides, you haven't even been my boyfriend for a whole day yet!"

      I think for a minute. "Very good points. I'm sorry I asked you that. I'm just so surprised."

      "Why?"

      "Because I thought you had with one of them."

      "No. In fact, I think that's why Dawson cheated on me. But I just couldn't after the way Armand treated me!"

      "Tell me about it. I need to understand," I quietly beg. "Please."

      After a deep breath, she says, "Dawson was so nice, but I couldn't get how Armand treated me out of my head. Now that I'm away from all that, I know Armand's the real asshole."

      So I have a new name to hate. Reminds me of 'Interview with a Vampire.'

      "What did Armand do?"

      "It'll sound ridiculous to you since you don't understand."

      "But I want to understand," I plead.

       After another deep breath and a huff, she turns around in my arms, wincing as she accidentally hurts her knee. "Don't be mad at me."

      "I'm not mad at you. I'm desperate to understand you," I say, and she nuzzles her forehead into my chest before I hold her tightly to me. Thank God that's apparently what she wants me to do.

      "Armand made me feel like I was a stupid coward because I didn't want to on our first date after I broke up with him."

      "Why did you break up with him?"

      "Because he hit me. He slapped me across the face so hard he left a bruise."

      "WHAT?!" I yell. "And you agreed to go out with him again?!"

      "I was used to him being a little mean, and he apologized his ass off-"

      "It doesn't matter!" I interrupt her excuses.

      "You're right. I shouldn't have, but I did."

      "And he expects sex on the first date after that?!"

      "I think he thought it would mend our relationship."

      "I don't know the man, and I already hate him!" I pant from barely-controlled rage. Taking a few deep breaths, I go back to something she said a little earlier. "You said you were used to him being mean. Why?"  I am so glad she didn't have him for her first time!

       "Because he was always that way."

       "How?"

       "Well, for example, he didn't like me being friends with Dawson, and he took every opportunity he could to let me know that. He said I was too stupid to see that Dawson was only friends with me because he was waiting around until Armand and I broke up. He was kind of right about that even if Dawson and I have been friends since childhood. Then there was that time I made my hair black."

        "Black. Wow," I say as I try to imagine it. "Did he often call you stupid?" I ask, noticing a small theme.

       "A lot."

       "Why did you stay with him?"

       "It got to be a habit. He wasn't always bad. He was lots of fun a lot too."

       "Before he left a bruise on your face." I point out dryly, noticing how quickly she defended him. I don't like the mental image of a bruised Marie. This Armand had better wish he never meets me. I reach up and run the backs of my fingers along her cheekbone. "I'm sorry," I say.

       "For what?"

       "For pressuring you."

       "You didn't know, and we already discussed this ... on the couch," she says, closing her eyes as I stroke her face repeatedly.

        "If I'd known-"

        "You'd what?" she snaps, her eyes opened again. "You'd treat me different?"

        "Yes."

        "Why?"

        She sounds hurt. Still, I have to give her the blunt truth.

        "Because you're an innocent."

        "No I'm not!"

        "Oh you're not?" I ask, humoring her. Then I get an idea, and a grin covers my face. I lean towards her and say quietly, "So you wouldn't be shocked if I told you I'd love to part your legs right now and drive myself into you hard and fast before I fuck you so slowly that I'm barely moving yet the pressure against both your clit and sweet spot is so damn hard you scream from the intensity. However, not even I can take that for very long before I can't stand it anymore and start swiftly pounding into you as I pull your hips up off the mattress. Then I pull out and flip you over to-"

         "Okay!"

         "Aw, I was just getting warmed up! Give me time, I'm sure I could get more creative if I have a little more time. Oh! I know! Oh, but that involves bondage, and I don't know how you feel about that."

       "Stop! I get what you're saying," she scolds me, and I sweetly kiss away her embarrassed expression. "Was it your goal to scare me?" she snips.

       "What? No, of course not. Not really. I only wanted to put things into perspective for you."

       Her voice drips with sarcasm as she says, "So sorry I'm an innocent, as you say. It's a shame I disappoint you so much." I can also hear the hurt in her voice behind the sarcasm.

        "Marie...."

        "No, no. It's fine. You've made your point."

        "I'm sorry I overdid it."

        "Even though, like you said, you could've 'done better.' "

        "Didn't you hear me apologize?"

        "I don't want you to treat me different," she says sadly.

        "I have to!" I softly exclaim. "I want to." I take a breath, make a decision, and say, "Listen. I'm not staying the night again for a little while."

        "Why?" she asks, looking sad and worried. "What if I want you to?"

        "No, Marie. I couldn't make it through the night without doing something to you. Even if you weren't a virgin, that was still a lot faster than I originally wanted to take it. I lost my head and forgot all about simple."

        "Jesse, I said yes to everything," she reminds me.

        "I shouldn't have even created the situation. Don't you see?"

        She sighs resolutely and says, "Yes, I do, and I understand. I'm still going to be sad though. I like you being here."

        Holy shit. 
        I love her!

        "I will be here," I say, trying to keep my mind on the conversation, but I keep getting distracted by her addictive lips-that are pouting adorably. "In the evenings... and our days off... and..." I can't stand it anymore, and I swiftly pull her mouth to mine so that I can get another hit of the drug that is Marie.

       I'd forgotten her nakedness. I'm reminded now, however, as I run my free hand all over her torso. My pants are suddenly very restricting as I work the sheets off us with my legs.

       I have to go home and change for work. 
       Dammit!

       With this new self-imposed rule, goodness knows when I'll have a naked Marie in my arms again.

       I whine like a spoiled child.

       "I have to go," I say sadly while I kiss her neck.

       "No. I'm holding you hostage," she growls, surprising me, but I like it.

       "Oh, how much I wish you could," I say sadly. "But I have to go home and change first as well. I'll come by at lunch to change and wash the sheets." And make out.

       "As well as other laundry. Don't think I've forgotten about that," she almost laughs.

       I do laugh, remembering my simfu 'training.'

       "And maybe," she says, "while you're changing at your house, you could get my panties so you could give them back to me during your lunch break."

       "What?! And hand off the jewel of my collection?"

       "Collection?!"

       I laugh again.

       Her eyes narrow playfully a little before she says, "Yes. The 'jewel of your collection' belongs to me."

       "Possession is nine-tenths of the law."

       "Jesse..."

       "I'll only accept a trade, though it'd better be a damn good trade for those. I like them," I say before I swiftly lick her cheek.

       "You....! You've been perving on my panties, and you have a collection?!"

       "I have really been perving on your panties, Marie. They're a souvenir of the first time I kissed you too," I say passionately. "I'll buy you some to replace them, but I'm keeping that pair."

       "Thief!" she mockingly accuses, and I laugh again.