Unfurl: A Hot Age Gap Romance
Unfurl: Chapter 34

I’ve never been up close with a condom before. The sight of Rafe biting down on his lower lip as he rolls the latex painfully up his engorged-looking dick is one of the most overtly sexual things I’ve ever seen.

Then it’s on, and he’s giving it a tug and crawling back over me. He takes another tube of lube—this bedside unit is well kitted out—and proceeds to smear it over me, working it inside me with a couple of fingers. I gasp at the cold as much as the stretch.

‘We’re getting you even wetter, sweetheart,’ he croons, keeping his eyes on my face. ‘It’ll be tight, okay? But I know you’ll take me so well. I’m going to fill you up so fully.’

His words and his fingers have me melting against him, and I nod. God, all the times I’ve wondered when I’d possibly get up the courage to have sex. I’ve always assumed it would be with a nice boy like Harry, with rings on both our fingers. Not unwed and in a sex club with the most intoxicating, debauched man I could ever imagine.

‘Legs up, baby,’ Rafe says, and I slide my feet towards me and let my knees drop open as if I’m getting waxed. He grins at me, a dirty, conspiratorial grin that would melt my underwear off if I was wearing any.

His fingers pull out, replaced by the bluntest wedge of manhood at my entrance.

Oh God.

I clench involuntarily.

‘Relax, okay, sweetheart? I know you can take me. Let’s go slow. Don’t forget to breathe.’

I nod, exhaling like I do in yoga class, and focus on how gorgeous this man is, how overpowered I feel to have his huge body on top of mine, and how there’s no one else on the face of the planet I want to do this with. My arms are still above my head, adding to my sense of surrender.

He pauses to kiss me, his tongue greedily taking what it needs, and then he’s edging forward, and I’m trying desperately not to scoot my bottom away from this invasion, and he’s in, stretching my entrance so intensely I don’t think I could manage another millimetre.

‘You’re in,’ I say like I can’t believe it, and he laughs gently against my mouth. ‘Just the crown, sweetheart. You’re doing so well. You’re so tight I might fucking explode. Thank fuck I’ve blown once already.’

Just the crown? Oh, Jesus.

He rolls his hips, slowly and carefully, and edges forward a tiny bit more. There’s so little space between his dick and my walls that I wouldn’t be surprised to hear squeaking noises.

‘Sore?’ he asks.

I consider. ‘It stings on the outside, but on the inside it just feels… I don’t know. It’s a lot.’

‘I know, baby. You’re doing so well. We’ll be magic together in a few days.’

It seems unlikely I’ll be able to walk in a few days, let alone have sex, but I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, he knows more about this stuff than me. ‘Okay,’ I wheeze instead.

‘That overwhelm you feel… think of it as pressure. Not pain. You can take this. You just need to get used to that feeling of fullness. And sometime soon, when my dick isn’t filling you up, all you’re going to feel is emptiness. Got it?’

‘Mm-hmm,’ I say, and he edges forward another inch. I shift. Forget fingers. Forget silly little wand vibrators. Rafe is filling me up with his dick, and the sensations are as elemental as they are new and uncomfortable. Having him push inside me, inch by inch, feels like déjà vu. Like I’ve done this in a million previous lives and I’m just remembering.

It’s a key turning in a lock. It’s not sexual; it’s chemical. I understand that my body’s been built to take a man like this, to take Rafe like this, in the same way that an acorn understands its destiny as a majestic oak. He’s unfurling primitive parts of my body and my soul that have long lain dormant and are now claiming their birthright.

I breathe in, I breathe out, and I push into him, and he practically collapses on top of me as he shoots forward. His cheek, when he rubs it against my jaw, is beaded with sweat.

‘Holy fuck, Belle,’ he grits out. ‘I’ll embarrass myself if you keep doing that.’

‘Are you in?’ I ask, like a child asking are we nearly there yet? He’s got to be in, he’s got to, surely, because I’m pretty sure he just hit my womb.

But oh my God.

The feeling.

The fullness.

I lie perfectly still, afraid to move in case I split myself in two. He pulls himself off me and looks down at me, and if we’d managed to keep up our client/hooker charade until now, it would be falling to pieces around us in this moment, because his eyes are bottomless black pools of emotion. Disbelief.

‘I’m in, baby,’ he says. ‘Jesus fucking Christ, you’re tight. You’re so—I’m close to losing my shit. I’m so proud of you.’

My face splits into a smile. So he hasn’t moved yet, but he’s in. I have a beautiful man inside me. I’m not a virgin anymore, and the skies have not fallen, and the ground has not cracked open to reveal the gaping, fiery jaws of hell.

On the contrary, I feel pretty fabulous.

You know, full, but fabulous.

‘Oh my God,’ I whisper.

‘Oh my God is right. You doing okay? Do you want me to put more lube on?’

‘Er, I think if you try to take that thing out and put it back in, your chances are slim.’ I remove a hand from above my head and curl it around his neck. His skin and hair are damp, too. I love that his entire body is reacting so viscerally to being inside mine.

He starts to move. Slowly, like he’s learning his way around me. ‘I have wanted to fuck your beautiful pussy since the moment I saw you,’ he tells me in a dangerously low voice. ‘If I’d had my way, I would have pushed you into your parents’ loo and got you on your knees. And then, when I couldn’t hold back any longer, I would have bent you over the basin and flipped up that little white dress you were wearing and fucked you. Hard.’

Tender Rafe makes my heart melt. But dirty Rafe, whispering his filthy fantasies about defiling me while he’s actually defiling me is a whole other level of intensity. I stare at him, transfixed, marvelling at the controlled bulge of his delts as he braces and pushes forward into me.

Because Rafe has whispered all of his plans to fuck me, as he puts it, a million times. And I have to admit it makes me hot when he says things like that. Terrified and hot. My mind’s eye follows all too gladly to the wicked worlds he shows me.

But now I’m experiencing first hand what it’s like to be impaled on him, to feel the full force of this onslaught of his body on mine, it turns those fantasies stratospheric. Rafe bending me over my parents’ basin and pushing that monster inside me from behind and getting me to take it again and again and again—it’s unfathomable.

The wicked alchemy of his words and his slow, sensual thrusts have me saying something I could never have conceived of saying before this millisecond.

‘Fuck me hard now.’

He stops. I’ve shocked the unshockable man. His face creases up in agony. ‘Jesus Christ, baby. You’ll send me over the edge.’

I put both hands on his shoulders. ‘I mean it. I want to feel it.’

He turns his head to plant a kiss on my bicep. ‘There’s plenty of time for that. I’ll hurt you, and I’m not having that. I’m trying to go gentle tonight.’

‘I know you are. And I know it’ll hurt. But I just want—I want you to really let me have it.’ I smile coquettishly, hoping he can’t refuse me. ‘I want the full Rafe Charlton experience.’

You’d think he was on the rack from the agony on his face. ‘I can’t trust myself to let go. Not with you. Not yet.’

I tug at my lower lip with my teeth and push my pelvis forward. He groans.

‘Show me how you’d fuck me if we were in my parents’ loo.’

‘You’re staying on your back tonight, sweetheart. I’ll be too deep if I go behind you.’

‘I know. I just want you to really go for it.’ I’m begging now. ‘Show me what you’ve got.’

Okay. Maybe that last taunt was a red rag too far, because the man’s facial expression flips from one of turmoil to fatalism. He grinds into me, hard.

‘God, I knew my little virgin would be like this when I filled her up with my cock. I just knew it. You want me to show you?’

‘Yes,’ I gasp.

He hangs his head, and my hands splay over his tightly bunched mass of back muscles, and he’s off. He slides out and thrusts hard, and the sensation of him bottoming out in me is how it must be when tectonic plates collide.

Violent.

Elemental.

The perfect fit.

There’s pain, yes, a lot of pain as he stretches my flesh. Chafes it. But more than pain, there’s an avalanche of sensation. Of emotional and physical overwhelm so great the breath practically leaves my body. It’s as if it can’t possibly accommodate Rafe as well as air or anything else we require to function. As if it’s feeding off Rafe alone.

Being the vessel for this extraordinary outpouring of testosterone is where I’m meant to be. The ways we’ve worshipped each other’s bodies these past couple of weeks have been many and varied, but being fused with him like this is on another level. It’s transcendent. It’s so intimate, I can’t ever imagine wanting to do it with anyone else.

I simply want Rafe rutting into my body as if I’m the only one who fits him, who can take him. I want him driving the breath out of me and showing me that, all this time, when I thought I was full, I was wrong.

I was hollow.

His thrusts pick up pace, his hips a volley of movement against me, and I hold on more tightly, unsure if I’ll survive this. And then he’s bucking and swearing and gritting out things that would make a whore blush before he thrusts once, twice, and I feel my insides fill with hot, wet seed.

He collapses on me, his teeth dragging over the skin of my neck, his tongue darting out to lick at the slick of sweat that’s erupted all over my body, his arms pushing under me so he can hold me to his chest. My legs wrap around him as my heart marvels at this act, the oldest act of time. It’s the most effective route I’ve ever seen to unravel all that lies on the surface of two people and expose the humanity beneath.