Chapter 82: Inexperienced lust
"Leonardo..." Willabelle whispered, her voice husky, as if she wanted to swallow the word but her lips wouldn’t let it go.
When her hands touched the muscles on my chest, I felt the clumsiness of that touch. Her fingers trembled as they wandered, exploring like a discoverer reading a map for the first time. Willabelle’s breath was still warm and uneven against my lips, but when she opened her eyes, a flash of panic gleamed in those silver-white irises.
Her inexperience was evident in every movement; this was a battlefield for her, but this time she had no weapons, only me.
My hands slid up from her waist, brushing the skin of her back as I slowly pulled down the zipper of her dress. The fabric slipped away softly, sliding off her shoulders, leaving only a thin layer of underwear beneath.
Delicate white lace, accentuating the pallor of her skin. Her breasts rose and fell gently with each breath; their tips hardened, betraying their sensitivity.
They were smaller than Annabel’s or Rebecca’s, but there wasn’t a single mark or blemish on them. They resembled white jelly, yet they weren’t sagging. On the contrary, they seemed firmly in place and looked quite soft.
As I touched her, I brushed my fingers along the curve of her breasts, tracing gentle circles with my thumb. Willabelle’s body responded instantly, her back arching as she leaned into me, a short moan escaping her throat, though her face remained covered by that controlled mask.
Her lips pressed tight, her eyes half-closed, but her body told no lies: her skin burned like fire, trembling at every touch, as if her nerve endings were wired straight to her heart.
"Are you this sensitive?" I murmured, my voice no more than a teasing whisper, though an ember burned inside me.
I lowered my lips to her neck, tasting the salty skin with my tongue, then slid downward. First to the upper swell of her breasts, then to one nipple, kissing my way there. When I took the round nipple into my mouth and sucked, grazing it lightly with my teeth, Willabelle’s hands gripped my hair, her nails digging into my scalp.
She moaned louder this time but immediately bit her lip to stifle it. Her body writhed, her thighs rubbing together, and I felt her wetness beneath her underwear.
"Stop... please," she said, her voice trembling, but her hands held me tighter instead of pushing me away. She opened her eyes, looking at me. The fear deep within mixed with desire. "I... I don’t know. This is too much. Go slow, Leonardo. Please go slowly... I’ve never done anything like this before..."
I lifted my head, pressing my lips to hers in a soft, soothing kiss to silence her. "All right," I whispered, my voice commanding yet gentle. "I’ll go slow. But I want you to feel everything. You can’t escape this tonight."
I slid my hands downward, slipping under the edge of her underwear. When my fingers brushed her wetness, Willabelle’s hips bucked involuntarily, a sob-like moan escaping her. She was so sensitive that just rubbing one finger against her clit made her legs tremble, her breath catch.
Slowly, I stroked her in circles, cupping her breast with my other hand. Her body responded to every movement.
The slightest touch caused contractions, shivers, and a slick warmth. I couldn’t quite tell if it was because she’d never experienced this before or if she was just inherently so responsive.
I suspected the latter. As I recalled, Rebecca had been inexperienced too, but she hadn’t reacted this intensely. If Willabelle’s body was this sensitive, it would be better to truly take it slow to avoid overwhelming her.
Though her body reacted so extremely, her face still tried to hold on to that wall; only her eyes, beginning to well with tears, betrayed her emotions.
"Are you okay?" I asked, without stopping my finger, watching her.
Willabelle nodded, but her voice came out broken: "Yes... but keep going... Please..."
That word "please" sounded like raw pleading from her lips for the first time. I slid my fingers deeper, finding her entrance and applying gentle pressure. I immediately felt her tightness and inexperience.
When I eased one finger inside, Willabelle’s back tensed, her hands gripping my shoulders, her nails scratching my skin. She moaned, high and sharp, her body clenching around me.
"Does it hurt?" I asked, holding still, kissing her to soothe her.
"No... just... I feel full. Filled with you." Her eyes locked onto mine, a storm of fear, excitement, and surrender raging in the depths of those bright white irises.
I began to move my fingers slowly, exploring her depths, while stroking her clit with my other hand. Willabelle’s breath quickened, her hips starting to match the rhythm, but she was still controlled; her moans muffled, her body caught in a wild dance.
But the study was no longer enough; the firelight was too dim, the edge of the desk too hard. Willabelle’s moans might leak into the hallway, but I didn’t care. The real issue was that such a beautiful and delicate woman’s first time shouldn’t be lost in an ordinary office setting. I wrapped my arms around her waist, lifting her onto my lap.
Her body was light, like a delicate sculpture, but her warmth seeped into my skin. Her legs instinctively wrapped around my waist, her face burying into my chest with a shy whisper: "Where..."
"To my bedroom," I murmured, striding quickly but carefully toward the door. Fortunately, no one was in the hallway, and my bedroom was just across from it.
The corridor was dark, only moonlight filtering through the window, but everything I felt while carrying her was illuminated: her heartbeat against my chest, her breath on my neck, her wetness brushing my thighs. I kicked the door open and gently laid her on the bed. Soft silk sheets awaited her.
I removed the remaining fabric from her body, leaving her completely naked. Willabelle tried to cover her breasts with her hands, but I took her wrists, pinning them above her head.
"Don’t hide. Only women who think they’re not beautiful and are shy cover themselves," I said, my voice thickening with desire. "Every inch of you is beautiful, and you’re definitely not shy."
I brushed my fingers slowly to her nipple, squeezing it gently in a commanding touch, as if to say, "Look at me." Her body reacted instantly: her back arched off the bed, a sharp moan escaping her throat, though she tried to bite it back.
Her eyes were half-closed, her lashes trembling, but her gaze burned with raw, uncontainable desire.
"Don’t hold back. I want to hear your voice. Every moan, every breath." I bent my head, lowering my lips to her breast. I started with a kiss, then left a wet trail with my tongue before taking the nipple into my mouth.
I sucked hard, tugging lightly with my teeth, and Willabelle’s hips lifted involuntarily, her thighs rubbing together. She moaned, louder this time, in a husky voice.
Her inexperience was obvious in every way, and she tried to conceal it, but her body couldn’t lie; her wetness glistened between her thighs, her skin burning like fire.
Her eyes locked onto mine, dancing with both the fear of uncertainty and a deep desire. It was the look of a woman melting for the first time under a man’s touch. "I... I don’t know what to do..."
"You don’t have to know. Just let me take care of it. Spread your legs."
My words were a command, and Willabelle hesitated. Her cheeks flushed, her pale skin turning pink, but the power of her desire won out. Slowly, shyly, she parted her legs, lifting her knees slightly to open herself to me.
Seeing that tight, wet fold, my inner fire blazed; her virginity was unmistakable, pink and inviting, yet delicate like an untouched rose.
I placed my hands on the insides of her thighs, sliding my fingers slowly upward. Her skin was so sensitive that even the light graze of my nails made her hips tremble, a sob-like moan escaping her.
"Good girl," I murmured, my voice praising yet authoritative, as I touched her clit and began tracing circles.
Slow and rhythmic, every movement made her body clench, her wetness coating my fingers. Willabelle’s head sank into the pillow, her teeth sinking into her lower lip, but her moans were starting to break free: short, ragged breaths, whispers torn from her throat.
"Ah... God... this... it’s too..."
"Too much?" I asked, without stopping my finger, pinching a nipple with my other hand.
I fixed my eyes on hers, watching her. That controlled mask was cracking, her eyes filling with tears, but her gaze held surrender. I slid my fingers deeper, brushing her entrance, applying gentle pressure.
I felt her tightness, that hot, wet grip, and when I slowly eased one finger inside, Willabelle’s back tensed, her legs trying to wrap around me, her nails scratching the sheets.
"It hurts... a little," she admitted, her voice broken, but she shifted her hips slightly to match the rhythm. Her desire was overriding the pain; her eyes half-closed, lips parted, breath quickening. "But... keep going. Please, Leonardo... I want you."
I’d promised to go slow, but every touch tested my own control. My heart pounded in my chest as I watched her: her legs slightly parted, her skin glowing like a pearl in the moonlight, her wetness casting an inviting sheen.
I slowly withdrew my fingers from inside her, already missing that tightness, that hot grip. Willabelle’s hips dipped involuntarily, a protest against the emptiness, but her eyes were locked on mine. There was a plea in those silver irises, silent but urgent.
"I’ll go slow. I promised. But I want to feel you completely, Willabelle. Every inch of you."
I slid my hands behind her thighs, gently lifting them, drawing her closer to me. I hurriedly unfastened my pants, freeing my hardness, throbbing like a pulse, impatient to meet her wetness.
Willabelle’s eyes drifted downward, looking at me hovering just above her tight entrance; her breath hitched, her cheeks flushing deeper, but she bit her lip to stay silent.
The woman, who usually revealed so little emotion, was now betraying everything with her body: her breasts heaving rapidly, nipples hardened, skin burning like fire.
I pressed the head of my cock against her entrance, mingling with her wetness and teasing her with just the tip. Willabelle’s back tensed, her legs trembled, a moan escaping her throat despite her efforts to hold it back.
"Slow... please, Leonardo," she whispered, her voice shaky, her hands clutching the sheets tightly. "It’s so big... I’m scared. This... it might hurt."
Her eyes welled with tears, but there was no escape in her gaze; only surrender, and that deep, uncontainable desire.
"I won’t hurt you. Trust me," I murmured, placing one hand on her breast to feel her rapid heartbeat.
Slowly, I pressed forward, easing just the tip inside; her tightness was incredible, like a silk vise gripping me, hot and wet. Willabelle’s breath caught, her eyes widening in shock, her nails digging into my shoulders.
"Ahhh... God!" she moaned, her voice breaking, her body clenching around me immediately.
Her skin trembled with electricity with every inch. I didn’t stop, but I didn’t rush either; I advanced centimeter by centimeter, watching her, reading every reaction. I lost myself completely inside her.
That tightness, proof of her virginity, gripped so firmly, yet her wetness welcomed me without resistance. When I was fully sheathed, a muffled, suppressed scream. Or rather, a cry tore from Willabelle, her body beginning to shake.
Her hips lifted, her inner walls contracting around me, and like a dam breaking, a wave of wetness gushed onto the sheets and my abdomen. Her orgasm, fueled by her inexperience and her body’s extreme sensitivity, came with my very first thrust.
Her eyes looked ready to pop out of their sockets, her lips parted, her breath ragged; but her face still wore that controlled mask, while her body had turned into a wild storm.
At that exact moment, the fluids gushing from her vagina turned into a light trail, a pink stain on the sheets the last remnant of her virginity. When Willabelle noticed it, her eyes widened, a sob escaping her lips, and her gaze shifted to me, a mix of shame and relief.
"Is this... what they call coming?" She whispered, her voice stunned, her hands trying to cover her face.
I laughed softly, staying inside her, trailing kisses down her neck to her earlobe to soothe her.
"Yes, you came. And you were magnificent."