I need to see Lena and tell her how I feel about her virginity, about the sweet gift inside of her just waiting for me to burst through it with my rock hard cock.
I can’t believe she’d ever think it would make me want her less.
My manhood is solid as a rocket in my pants, my balls the fuel that make it try to surge between the zipper and tear the fabric of my underwear.
I have to see her.
Now.
I’ll explode if I don’t.
CHAPTER SIX
Lena
I sit cross legged on the bathroom floor with my laptop balanced on the closed toilet lid. My thoughts are a battleground of Lorenzo and the way his face contorted when I told him I was a virgin.
I tried to read the message glinting in his deep brown eyes.
Anger?
Disgust?
Repulsion?
Hate?
But then that man interrupted us and he had to leave on business.
He said he was going to see me later, but I know that that could’ve just been his politeness seeping into his words. Perhaps he’ll send somebody to tell me that everything he said, all that talk about us belonging together that sent a frickin’ orchestra of warmth through my soul, was just a big cruel joke.
I shake my head, trying to focus on the present moment, sitting in my damp smelling bathroom because it’s the smallest room in the house with the least background noise.
Music has always been my refuge and this evening it’s no different. With my cheap laptop, cheap microphone, cheap headset, recording a song is difficult, but even so I want to lose myself in the process.
I try to sing but constantly the city interrupts me.
People roar at each other in the adjacent apartments and somewhere a poor doggie yaps into the dusk, begging his or her owner to come and feed them.
Eventually, the dog stops barking, but only because a louder, probably bigger dog starts howling into the air.
I try and focus on the chords of the song through my tinny headphones, but they’re too quiet, the things are basically busted, and sounds penetrate nonetheless.
Eventually, I stand up and pace into the living room, glancing at the couch that came with the apartment. The realtor flashed me a big beaming grin when he told me the place came furnished, and it didn’t even falter when I laid eyes on just how flea bitten and time worn the couch was.
“It’s the only thing you can afford,” he reminded me. I swear the short, balding, sweaty man was enjoying himself.
I’d managed to save up a small amount of cash during high school, but even so, rent is so frickin’ expensive and this falling apart hellhole is all I can afford.
I drop onto the couch, the only place I can sit, and let my head fall back and close my eyes. My heart hammers in my throat as I relive the moment Lorenzo left me in the library, stopping briefly at the door and looking over his shoulder like a giant alpha wolf who’s just heard a twig snapping in the underbrush.
His eyes moved over me, his jaw tight, and then he left, and all I could do was stare after him and wonder just what the heck was going on in his head.
I leap off the couch when the apartment buzzer cuts through my thoughts, way too frickin’ loud like it always is.
I go to the intercom panel, wondering if it’s going to be a local drug fiend trying some scam. When I first moved in here, somebody pounded my apartment buzzer like they were trying to break it, and when I answered they said they had brand new TVs for sale. I peeked out the front window and saw two hooded men lurking on either side of the door … with no TVs in sight.
God, I hate this neighborhood.
“Hello?” I mutter.
“It’s me,” Lorenzo growls.
“Oh,” I say, stunned. “I … Um …”
Talk, idiot.
“I’ll buzz you up.”
I press the button and then flurry around the apartment, trying to bring the chaos into some semblance of order. But it’s not that the place is untidy, exactly. The small, old looking kitchen has everything in the right place. It’s just that one of the cupboard doors won’t close all the way, and there’s an ugly gouge in the wall where a cupboard used to be and the landlord hasn’t bothered to paint over it.
I sigh, returning to the living room just in time for his knock on the door.
I hurry over to the door, realizing too late that I’m just wearing baggy grey sweatpants and a frumpy hoody. Is he going to think I’m a complete slob?
My desire for him to find me sexy pulsates through me like an instruction direct from my womb, as if it’s telling me to make myself look hot for him, to make him want to drive his baby making rod inside of me and shoot his precious seed inside me.
But it’s too fricking late now.
I open the door to find Lorenzo overfilling the frame, his shirt unbuttoned to show the top of his chest, his pectorals pressing firmly through the material. He ducks his head and walks his towering body into the room. Reaching a casual hand behind him, he closes the door.
“Lena,” he rumbles, his deep voice seeming to cause the whole apartment to tremble. “I’ve waited all day for this.”
Here it comes.
I remember how his face contorted when I told him I was a virgin, as though his disgust was trying to escape in any way it could.
But he doesn’t tell me it’s over, like I expect.
He doesn’t push me away.
Instead he dives at me like an unleashed tornado and wraps his arms around me, crushing our bodies together as he brings his face down to mine, pausing so that our noses brush and tickle.
Our lips collide and lust explodes like starlight inside my mouth, the sensations spreading across my cheeks with a heaven made butter knife, smearing it all over me. I
