MAKE ME BELIEVE
Danielle Atali lay on Chris Carey’s bed in just her tshirt and panties. Leaning on one elbow, she watched him — still fully dressed, shoes and all — shift uncomfortably in his desk chair and fiddle with his music program on his computer.
Her lips quirked up at him as she studied the flush coloring the back and side of his neck. His face too, she’d bet, if he bothered to look at her.
He was such an awkward guy. Skinny and slumped over. Shy and kinda quiet. He had the freckled, pale skin of someone who spent far too much time indoors, cooped up alone.
He was not the kind of guy she thought she’d ever be with.
But he was sweet. And cute. And fun.
And — though she knew, if the genders were reversed, it would be incredibly sexist to say — there was something about being with someone who was experiencing all this for the first time. It didn’t quite make her feel all fresh and virgin-y again. This was not her first time and there wasn’t an amount of innocence Carey could have to make it so.
But it made her feel...honored. Special. That Carey had waited this long. Had chosen her.
It was a heavy thing, being someone’s first. She hadn’t really thought about it with her own — the senior who tutored her in high school chemistry, who probably hadn’t really thought much about it at the time either — but it was kinda a crazy thing to ask someone. To entrust to someone.
And, while she didn’t think that losing her virginity had changed her all that much — not in the grand scheme of things — she remembered it feeling huge and life-altering then. It’d felt like being held over a precipice. Like she were about to plunge into a deep unknown. And she’d — perhaps a bit unwisely, definitely naively — trusted her tutor to guide her through that moment.
And, sure, her first time hadn’t been the monumental event she’d thought it would be — and she wasn’t so vain as to think that she could shake Carey’s world either — but she simply wanted to live up to the trust he was putting in her.
So Danielle sat up to sit cross-legged on his bed, grabbing a pillow to hug, and worried her lip. “Are you sure you’re ready?” She eyed his hunched-over back. “It’s cool, if you want to wait.”
He swiveled the chair around, finally facing her. His hazel eyes were wide and confused behind his thick lenses. A little worried too. “Why?” His words were quick and a touch too high. “Have you changed your mind?”
“No.” She scooted closer to perch on the edge of the bed. “No, of course not.” She reached out to touch his knee. “I’m just saying that this is up to you.”
They’d go his speed.
Do what he wanted.
Whatever he wanted.
And only what he wanted.
She didn’t want him to feel pressured into anything. “This is your night.”
———
God, that was a lot of pressure.
“So,” he said slowly as his brow arched and he pushed up his glasses nervously, “it’s all up to me.” He looked away and sighed. ’Cause that made sense; put the guy who had no on-the-job experience in charge. “Great.”
He watched her bare feet as they stepped onto the plush carpet in his attic room. He was grateful that his parents and his sister were far up north at his uncle’s cabin for the weekend, so no one was here to even regionally witness his humiliation.
Groaning internally and running his hands over his close-cropped, red hair, Chris saw Danielle’s slim, tanned feet step and stop between his bent legs. He sat back and looked up her body — her slim ankles, the curve of her calves, the thick length of her thighs, the sweet swell of her hips, the swift sweep of her waist before the subtle rise of her breasts — before finally looking up at her face.
He wanted to roll his eyes.
Aw, man.
He frowned at the oh-so understanding pity in her beautiful, black eyes. Sympathy curved her pretty, painted mouth. God damnit.
He huffed when he felt her small, soft, but still so capable hands cup the sides of his head. “You nervous?” She rubbed his temples soothingly.
He snorted. She was kidding, right?
He frowned. Jeez, it was just sex.
Most everyone he knew had already done it.
Why — whenever he thought about it, got close to doing it — did his brain blow it up into this huge thing?
“You want to take a break?” She let her hands slide down to rub his shoulders. “Grab some food or a drink or something?”
No. He wanted to have sex.
He wanted to have sex with her.
Why did that seem so fucking impossible?
“Talk to me,” she urged him. “What’s up?”
He rolled his shoulders and squirmed in the swiveling desk chair. “I,” he began, feeling his face heat, “I just...” He winced, shutting his eyes. He just couldn’t look at her while he said this. “I don’t know.”
“Don’t know what?” she asked. “Don’t know if you want to do this? Don’t know what you want?”
He shrugged again, making a helpless sound. At the moment, he felt like he didn’t know anything. “I’m such an idiot.” He leaned back and threw an arm over his eyes, crushing his glasses to his face.
It was just sex! The most basic thing in the world. How could he not know how to do this? In porn and in movies, the guys always knew exactly what to do. They just knew.
There weren’t all these questions.
There was never all this doubt.
They just got naked and everything — all the people and parts — just fell into place.
Why did his life never work like that?
“You’re not an idiot.” She rubbed his shoulders in a comforting — but still vaguely patronizing — way. “You’re just...”
He shut his eyes and slumped his shoulders. “A virgin.”
———
He said it as if it was the worst thing in the world to be. She sighed, wishing he could just have a bit more confidence. Without quite knowing how to give him that.
Danielle bit her lip. Hmmm. “What if,” she mused as she looked about his room, looking for some kind of inspiration.
Her eyes lit up at his screensaver that had switched to a brightly colored image of some comic heroine. The buff and busty beauty stood tits-out and confident, ready to take on the world.
“If I had superpowers,” she asked idly, not entirely sure where she was going with this, “what ones would you give me?”
He jerked his head up to look at her, confusion wiping away the sad, sorry look on his face — which actually made the odd question more than worth it. “What?” Bewildered laughter colored his voice.
She shrugged, feeling a little more awkward — but strangely excited too. “If I were a superhero,” she repeated, gesturing to his screen, “what powers do you see me having?”
He gave a snort and pushed up his glasses, giving her a strange, assessing look over his lenses. “Really?” He looked her up and down.
“Yeah.” She nodded. “C’mon,” she said, holding her breath, just hoping that he’d play along, “roleplay with me.” She gave a pretty pout. “I promise you don’t have to wear the spandex.”
He leaned back in his chair, narrowing his gaze on her. She wanted to squirm under his scrutiny, but she straightened her spine. She’d asked; she owed him the chance to answer. “Hmmm.” He bit his lip and blushed, looking away before meeting her gaze. He shrugged. “It’s cliché,” he admitted, his voice low and a little embarrassed, “but I see you being Wonder Woman.”
Really?
She stepped back and raised her brow. She wasn’t really a comics girl, but even she knew who that was. “She’s hot.”
“Yeah.” He cocked his head, his pale skin burning a humiliated red. “So are you,” he muttered so quietly she barely heard him.
God, he was so corny.
She grinned and tossed her curly, black hair back off her shoulder. “So,” she said thoughtfully, “Wonder Woman, huh? She’s got super strength, right?”
“And flight and bulletproof jewelry and a lasso of truth,” he said. “And an invisible plane.”
She giggled and knelt down by his bed. “As cool as having an invisible plane would be.” She rummaged around his floor among his books and clothes and shoes. “I think I’m going to have to go with super strength and,” she said as she sat up and brandished his belt triumphantly, “the lasso of truth.”
She smiled when he sat up in his chair a bit, his eyes widening and his breath catching. “So,” he asked before clearing his throat and adjusting his glasses, “what, uh, powers do I have?”
Danielle bit her lip. Hmmm. She wasn’t really into comics; didn’t really know what to give him. She supposed there was Superman, but wasn’t that pretty much the same as Wonder Woman and where was the fun in that? Batman? What was his superpower?
Wasn’t it just money?
Hmmm.
She worried her lip between her teeth, feeling their bite. She looked up at him, his gaze centered on her mouth. Hmmm. “Isn’t there a superhero that can feel stuff other people feel?” she asked, still feeling the lingering sting on her lip.
“Like an empath?” He blinked confused, hazel eyes at her, and shrugged. “Like people who can feel other people’s emotions and stuff? Sure.”
“Is it just emotions?” she asked, curious. “Or can they feel other things too?” She ran her hand up her thigh, stroking softly. Her voice hitched lower. “Like could they feel sensations that other people feel?”
———
His gaze followed the sweet sweep of her hand as she caressed her thigh. He swallowed hard. He didn’t think that was how that power worked.
Seeing her fingers play over the satin of her sweet tea shaded skin, he also knew he didn’t care.
“Sure.” His mouth felt dry as his tongue — feeling thick and clumsy in his mouth — licked his dry lips. “Sure.” He imagined that feel — that soft sweep of skin — on his own thigh.
“So,” she said with a smirking, husky tone in her voice, “if I touch myself here...” She trailed off while she dragged her fingers up her leg and over her hip bone, where she knew he was particularly sensitive.
He shivered, the skin over his hip bones tingling as her phantom stroke touched him, both not as good and much better than an actual touch. While the idea of her touching him was still his ultimate goal — and, he swore to God, would happen before the end of the night — he couldn’t quite deny that the idea of a telepathically shared touch was sexy to his ingrained nerd brain.
“Interesting.” Her grip tightened on the belt in her hand, surprised delight clear in her voice. She smacked the stiff leather against her palm, making him hiss as he imagined its sting. “First,” she said with another strike to the heart of her hand, “you need to take off your shirt.”
“I’ll do it, if you do,” he countered.
“Uh-uh.” She gave a confident shake of her head and stepped toward him again, snatching away his glasses to place them on the safety of his desk. “That is not how this game works.” She stood strong between his spread thighs again, grabbing him by the front of his shirt. When her long fingers fisted in the cotton of his collar, he let himself be pulled to his feet. Danielle was a tall girl and was actually probably strong enough to — if not overpower him — hold her own with him.
But, even so, at the flick of her wrist, he threw himself in the direction she wanted dramatically, crashing into the wall next to his bed while his body sprawled powerless over his mattress.
He sat up to see her eyes light up when she saw what her power over him could do. He could see it in the fire in her black eyes, the flush of her tanned cheeks, the parted pant of her sweet, painted lips, she was loving this. The rush of power. He imagined the thrill of strength flowing through her slim limbs.
He knew Danielle could be bossy, definitely opinionated, and a bit of a know-it-all. But he’d never seen her quite like this. If he was honest, he wasn’t sure he knew what to do with it.
But he was pretty sure that he wanted to find out.
She stalked toward him again, her hips — huge and full — swinging with swagger. “Fine.” She towered over him, lying before her on the bed. “You don’t want to take off your shirt, then let’s start with your pants.”
His eyes widened and her hands lunged for the clasp of his jeans. “Uh,” he choked out and instinctively backed up, even as his body tightened in heated response, “this isn’t very heroic of you.”
“Hey,” she said, wrestling both his wrists in her hands before binding them with his belt, “I asked you what kind of superpowers I had; I never said anything about what kind of hero I’d be.” He looked into her eyes and saw the glint of Catwoman as she cinched the belt. She had the look of a woman who knew what she wanted and would do what she had to in order to get it.
She wrenched his bound wrists up and pressed them hard against his chest, holding him down on the mattress. He struggled against her grip while he lurched to try to sit up, but was shoved back down hard into the mattress’s give.
He felt her fingers unfasten his jeans before tugging them down to his knees, bearing green plaid boxers and pale thighs while effectively binding his legs too.
“There,” she purred and leaned back to appreciate her work, “perfect.” She raised her body up onto the mattress to straddle him, pressing her palms against his shoulders. He felt the full weight of her warm, soft thighs squeeze his waist. “And, since it was so important to you,” she conceded with a troubling smile, tugging her cloud of wild curls behind her head, tying it back into a tamed bun, “I guess I’ll take off my shirt for you.”
He sat up a bit, jostling her while his whole body perked up, “Really?” God, he loved her boobs. Small and so sensitive, they were fun to play with.
He knew that she had some kind of issue with them — thought they looked weird or weren’t quite right or something — but he got giddy every time he saw them.
And, sure, without his glasses, she was a bit blurry. But boobs were boobs and he’d never turn down an opportunity to see hers.
“Yep.” She turned around, swinging her legs around so she faced his feet, before whipping off her shirt and letting it fall to the floor. “There you are,” she said as he groaned and wriggled beneath her unsatisfied, “my shirt is off. Just for you.”
“I’m starting to think that you’re a super villain, lady.” He pouted at her low chuckle and stared at the smooth expanse of her back. The long dip of her spine. The sharp nip of her waist before her hips flared out and over him. The round curve of her ass, now revealed without her shirt, covered only in the barest, pink, star-covered cotton.
“You think?” She hooked her thumbs in the waistband of his boxers. She leaned forward to press lingering kisses along each inch of touch-sensitive flesh she revealed as she shoved the green plaid down. “And here I thought I was being very nice.”
———
Danielle bit back a chuckle when she felt his hips thrust up against her lips. God, this was fun. She didn’t think it would be so much fun. When she’d first suggested this, she’d just wanted to distract him a bit. Give him something else to think about besides his understandable but awkward anxiety.
But she was getting into this.
She wasn’t a small woman — she tended to be around the same height as most of the guys she met. And it wasn’t like Carey was the strongest guy in the world.
But, in her very domesticated, civilized life, she never quite got a chance to feel a flood of power — to overpower — like this before. She tensed her thighs against his hips and felt strength surge through her.
Yeah, she was into this.
She used her forearms to push his arching hips back down, loving the give of his thin, lanky body when she pressed him back into the downy cover. She lifted the green plaid a bit to let the tip of his cock peek out from beneath the cotton, before letting the elastic slide down the length of his hard shaft.
She felt him try to sit up a bit, to see. Which was pretty much impossible, considering that she was completely blocking his view.
She bet Carey was wishing he’d ask for x-ray vision for a superpower right about now, huh?
She smiled cockily. This was her first time seeing him naked; she kinda wanted this experience all to herself.
She felt his breath hitch and hold while she lowered the boxers, fisting the cotton at the base of his cock. Exposed, his skin was darker there than the rest of him. Pulled taut along the length of him, his dick looked sleek and hard. The head was tapered, rounded, and seemed to invite her to touch. To taste.
She wondered how he liked to be touched. She hadn’t exactly been with many guys, but she’d known enough to know that each one was different. Some liked it gentle, loving the long tease that built and built until it overwhelmed. Some liked it rough, preferring to barrel toward climax, full tilt. She’d even known a guy who — unlike most of the men she’d been with or heard of — liked a little pain with his sex, craving the barest bite of sharp teeth and the scraping of nails.
She wondered how Carey liked it while she stared at him bare before her, an idea forming in her mind. “So,” she began, “according to the rules of our game, your power is that you can feel what I feel, right?”
There was a pause, long and wondering. “Sure.” He shrugged before she maneuvered over him, arching her back so her ass was all but in his face.
Good. She reached between her legs and grabbed his bound hands, tucking his fingers beneath the crotch of her panties. “So, if I do this,” she said, setting the next rules of their game by pressing his fingers against her clit while her other hand pressed her thumb against the skin beneath the head of his dick, “then you’ll feel it too, right?”
“Su-ure.” She heard him wheeze and felt his body tensed at her touch. “Yeah.”
“And, if you do this,” she added as she forced his fingers to rub her clit while she mirrored that movement on the underside of his cock, “then this happens, right?”
“Yes.” He moaned and began to apply more pressure to her clit. Danielle smiled, deepening her own touch. She knew he’d get it. She smiled, imagining the intense, determined look on his face. She’d seen Carey play enough new video games to know how much he’d enjoy this, learning the controls to a new game. Knowing which buttons and combinations caused what moves.
If he rubbed her clit harder or softer, faster or slower, it affected the speed and pressure she applied too. If he stroked her from cunt to clit, she trailed her finger along the length of his shaft. If he played with her labia, she massaged his balls. Her gamer was good at this, learning quickly. Adapting his approach and tailoring his play.
And, truth was, even though she wasn’t much of a gamer herself, she was enjoying this too. Usually, during sex, she was the type of girl who got lost in the pleasure of it. Who let herself get lost in the sensations of it all. Who really didn’t put much more thought to it beyond oh, that feels good or a little to the left.
But there was something really fun about figuring out the cause-and-effect of this kind of play. Deciding what each move translated into. Learning and deciphering what he wanted by what he did to her, by what moves he lingered on or seemed drawn back to. It was strange and oddly arousing to be so focused on each other’s touch, on each other’s pleasure.
She felt his fingers dip down to touch her arousal, letting the slick heat help him slide over her skin. Danielle bit her lip, thinking, before bringing her fingers to her mouth and sucking on them deeply so her saliva could coat his skin, allowing her fingers to slip as easily over him as his did over her. He moaned and began to stroke her faster. Swiveling her hips against the heat of his touch, she curled her fingers around his cock, her forefinger and thumb circling him as she stroked.
She bit her lip while she rode his fingers, feeling his hips thrust up to meet the push and pull of her hand. God, her gamer was good.
“So what happens,” he asked curiously, “if I do this?” He let his hand drift and dip, before letting two fingers sink deep inside her wetly.
Her breath caught while her body adjusted to the sensation.
It was weird. She’d had more than a few guys finger her before; she was no stranger to this. But, with Carey, it felt different. So in-tuned to his every touch, it felt strange. Almost, more. More intense. More demanding. Just more.
“Well?”
She bit her lip, trying to imagine the mirrored equivalent. She supposed she could just finger his ass, but — having had someone do that to her — that didn’t really feel like the right counter.
Sounding?
No, that didn’t seem right either.
She closed her eyes and really focused. She wriggled her hips. As she moved, she felt her warm, wet arousal slick and slip between them, slide along both their bodies. She could feel his fingers deep inside her, felt her tight heat surround him. Like a presence that was at once both welcome and didn’t belong.
She swallowed thickly, thinking of only one thing that felt like that. She leaned down and wrapped her lips around his dick, letting the length of him slide deep into her mouth. She heard him gasp and groan when her lips closed around the base of his cock, his sex’s sensitive head resting at her throat.
“Oh God.” He pulled his fingers partially out of her as she let him slip half-way out of her mouth, before he plunged his fingers back inside her so she slid her lips down his dick again. He did it again and again. Faster and faster.
“More.” His head dropped back and his back arched viciously. “I want more.”
Yes. She did too. She moved, letting him go, to tell him, “Use your other hand to touch my clit too.”
She giggled, lifting and twisting her hips, while he fumbled a bit, trying to finagle his fingers into a comfortable position.
“Like this?” He began to both stroke her clit in sweet circles and thrust his other hand’s fingers in and out of her.
Mmmm. “Yeah.” She felt herself clench on his fingers. “I like that.”
He laughed a bit and put a bit more oomph behind his movements.
She closed her eyes and allowed herself one more moan before she bent down to take him into her mouth again, sucking him hard from hilt to tip. She heard his breathing deepen and felt his fingers work furiously. Her mouth watered when her climax came closer. Her rhythm faltered as her head bobbed over him, her own pleasure making it hard to concentrate on his.
She gripped the base of his cock with her fist, the slippery slide of her saliva letting him slick through her tightly held fingers easily. She took a deep breath before she let her tongue lave him, his head and shaft. She moaned over his cock when his fingers slid deeper inside her, hitting her just right. She sucked him deeper, harder, whimpering while she felt herself start to come.
God, yes, Carey was very good at this game.
———
Chris practically jumped, shocked and unprepared, almost bucking her off him, when he felt her hips jerk and her pussy clamp down hard on his fingers.
He let out a surprised laugh.
He’d made her come.
Right?
Her hips lurched again, undulating against him as she whimpered and her core pulsed.
Yeah, he thought, rather proud of himself. He’d made her come.
He didn’t even care that she’d collapsed over him, draped lazy and replete on top of him as she let his still hard cock slide out of her mouth. He slid his fingers out of her too, feeling her twitch and sigh when he did. He tried to rearrange her now tangled panties, but thought it easier to just remove them. He tugged the band down, baring her big, beautiful ass. Her slim feet kicked out weakly, catching on the hem of his shirt that was now hiked up his chest, while her wet sex rubbed sweetly against his middle.
He smiled indulgently at her. “C’mere, sleepy girl.” He patted her behind. “Let’s get you turned around, so we can go to sleep.”
She whined and writhed lazily.
“C’mon, Wonder Woman.” He arched his hips, jostling her gently and bumping her with the belt still binding his wrists. “Now that I’ve depleted you of your strength, you need to untie your lasso of truth.”
He grinned when he felt her body shake with laughter. She groaned and pushed herself up, arching up as she yawned. “Depleted of strength, huh?” She scoffed and turned around to face him, still straddling his waist. She grabbed his leather-bound wrists and yanked them above his head. “As if you can.” She leaned in close to press her nose against his. She gave his wrists one last squeeze. “Stay.” Her black eyes twinkled with renewed verve.
Yeah, he didn’t plan on going anywhere. He watched her crawl off the bed, bending low to dig about the remains of her clothes. She stood, her butt wiggling happily, and pulled a wrapped packet from her pocket.
“What’s that?” He eyed it curiously.
“Condom.” She turned, waving the packet at him. “Even super strong superheroes need protection too.”
“That, uh,” Chris said, quirking a curious eyebrow at the strange and much-too-large package she was opening, “is the weirdest-looking condom.” God knew, he was a virgin, but he knew what condoms looked like.
Or he thought he did.
His eyes widened when she pulled out the thin, transparent sheath. The thing was huge. He leaned forward and stared at his dick. Sure, hard, he wasn’t exactly small. He didn’t think, anyway. But that condom was massive enough to give a porn star a complex. How big did she think he was?
She stuck her tongue out at him. “It’s not for you.” She turned around again, spreading her legs and fiddling between them. She turned around. “It’s a female condom.” She climbed back up on the bed. “I had a boyfriend a while ago who preferred them. Turns out, so do I.”
She straddled him again, giving him a glimpse of her now protected pussy, a strange bit of the condom still sticking out of her. “It makes me feel like I’m more in control of my sexual safety.” She shrugged and reached between them, gripping his hard shaft. “And,” she said huskily, positioning his cock at her entrance, “I hear that they feel way better for my partner than regular condoms.”
He sucked in a breath as she slid the length of him inside her.
“What do you say, empath boy?” She gave him a knowing smile. “How’s that feel?”
Oh God.
He jerked against her. He had no idea if her condom was better than the ones he saw in porn but, Lord knew, he couldn’t think of a single thing that could possibly feel better than the snug tug of her sex on his.
Then she began to move, pumping her hips up and down on him, plunging him deep into desire. His bound hands fisted in the pillows above his head. His balls tightened and his back arched while he desperately tried to dive deeper, racing toward his orgasm.
He bit his lip when he felt himself get close. Oh God. Oh yeah. “Oh.” He groaned and felt himself crash into his climax, ramming his own hips against her as his pleasure took over. “Ah. Fuck.”
His brain blanked, emptied itself entirely, beyond the rush of sensation as he came inside her.
He panted, his chest heaving, while his hips mindlessly thrusted.
So that was sex.
He groaned and felt her hips lift, her pussy pulling on his almost too-sensitive cock when she rose and rolled to his side. He stretched and rolled with her, kicking and toeing off his boxers, jeans, and shoes before turning to look at her. She removed the condom, wrapped it in a tissue, and tossed it away.
He lowered his still bound arms, wrapping them over her head and around her shoulders, pulling her close. She rested her head against his arm. He kissed her cheek, her chin, her mouth. “That was amazing,” he whispered against her lips. “Thank you.”
He blinked, surprised, while he watched his brash, ballsy, take-no-shit babe blush and bend her head a bit. She snuggled closer, hiding her face in his chest. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.” She shrugged shyly.
Enjoyed it?
She’d fucking blown his mind.
“Hey.” He nudged her with his nose until she looked at him.
Biting her lip, she raised her gaze to meet his.
He pursed his lips together, trying to figure out how to explain what he felt.
How amazing that was.
How amazing she was.
He let out a tense breath, hoping he had the right words. “I’m glad I waited. You were worth it.”
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