Sometimes Love Just Happens

This is just the sex scene from a novel I am writing. I worked hard on it, and am very satisfied with how it turned out. Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Peter," she sighed when his hand covered the apex at her thighs and pressed so that her butt settled against his crotch. She could clearly feel the pressure of his erection pressing at the small of her back and it sent a delicious little thrill through her.

"I know," he murmured, propping himself up on an elbow and moving aside her hair with the other hand. He gently kissed the back of her neck. "But I don't care. I want this." His lips moved, brushed her shoulder, his teeth biting into the soft flesh and making her gasp. His palm made slow, circular motions over her pelvis, and her toes curled, then flexed at the sensation. She could feel his heart thudding against her back, wondered if he could hear hers. It was a jungle beat in her ears, and that warm, most secret part of her that men have dying to get back to since they slid from it in birth was pulsing to its rhythm.

Peter slipped his knee between her legs, slid it up until it pressed against her. Her heat enveloped him. He closed his eyes, pressed his face into the fragrant curve of her neck when her breath hitched, her back arched. His hand slid up her torso, brushed the underside of her full breasts. He'd always liked a woman with curves. They were so much softer, so much...warmer, somehow. There just seemed to be more to explore, to discover.

Slowly, inch by inch, he worked her night shirt up, slipped his hand beneath and cupped a naked breast, scrapping the nipple lightly. It budded into his palm, exquisitely sensitive. He shuddered as Eulalia gave a catching gasp, her fingers flexing where her hand lay fisted in front of her face.

She stared into the darkness, not blinking, awareness in every pore of her being. She didn't want to breath, didn't want to do anything that might detract from what Peter was doing to her. Every nerve ending was sizzling, every breath inhaled that subtle, masculine scent that was Peter. She lay tense, expectant, waiting for... she didn't know what. Just waiting.

Peter moved his knee a fraction, rubbed it against her crotch, felt her wetness through her panties. He squeezed her breast, weighed it, then brushed a thumb over the nipple. She gasped, shifted away from him, shocked at the intensity, then settled back against him.

"Shh," he whispered, nibbling her collarbone and massaging her breast. "Just close your eyes and feel."

How could she do anything else. Her body was one throbbing nerve, bombarded by a hundred sensations. Except she wouldn't close her eyes, couldn't. Her vision was blurry around the edges now, as his knee rubbed continuously, but she couldn't close them. Couldn't.

He rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, moved up to nibble at her earlobe, and pressed his knee harder into her. She groaned and shuddered, and the hand she had kept fisted by her face moved down to her thigh, where it gripped once, then lay on the bed, then gripped again. He nuzzled the soft skin behind her ear, flicked his tongue out to wet it and nip.

She cried out.

It was insanely arousing, his lips on her ear, and it caused her skin to flush hot then cold. She wanted to squirm, to make the wonderful feelings rising in her stop. There had to be an end. When would it end?

Her hands gripped her thigh again, biting into flesh. Her abdomen and chest tightened suddenly, and a swell of emotion pushed at the lips she had pressed closed. Her world exploded and a cry burst out. Her body convulsed; she pushed down on Peter's knee and ground against it, gasping out in stunned delight as her vision went red, then faded to grey.

A helpless groan slipped out when the glorious feelings lessened, and she took several deep, gulping breaths. Her heart thundered beneath Peter's hand, the knots in her stomach loosened marginally. "Oh my god," she murmured, dazed, still staring at the wall. Peter chuckled and nuzzled her ear again. She 'hmm'ed languidly and closed her eyes, bringing her hand up to touch his cheek.

"Peter," she sighed, and turned in his arms, her lips searching for his. "Peter," she murmured again, into his mouth, and wrapped her arms around him, holding him close.

Peter moaned and thrust his hips against her. She shuddered and struggled to untangle their legs so she could dangle one over his hip, opening herself to him. His hands roamed down her back, stroking along her spine, scraping lightly up her ribs and then reaching down to grip her buttocks and pull her still closer to his heat.

They lay like this for a time, kissing leisurely, exploring each others mouths. After a while however, Peter's restraint began to fray, and the gentle loving of Eulalia's mouth was no longer enough. He craved the sweeter, more secret depths of her. Needed to be inside her.

His brain said anyone. Any body would do. But his heart said her. Her body. He wanted her.

He rolled her to her back, and her legs opened automatically so he could settle between them and push his bulge against the throbbing core of her femininity. She took a gasping breath and arched her back, thrusting her breasts into his face. Accepting the unexpected offer, he kissed her through her shirt, sucking until the fabric was dark from moisture and she was writhing beneath him. Slowly he began to undo each tiny button, pressing feather-light kisses to every creamy inch of skin that was exposed little by little. Her hands stroked his shoulders as he slowly undressed her, her gaze watching him closely as he discovered her body. Finally he slipped the material aside and gazed upon her naked breasts. His breath caught in his lungs. His chest tightened.

By now the moon had moved across the night sky and shone directly on the west side of the house. Moonbeams streamed through their window shades, casting the bed and the two figures on it in silver light. Eulalia's skin glowed ethearally. His throat was corded with tension. His body screamed for her. He shook with the power of the desire that suddenly roared through him. His hands fisted on the lapels of her silk pajama top. He held himself completely still and struggled for control.

She felt him quaking in her arms, and it sent little tingles along her spine. After a moment, however, she realized that he was still staring at her breasts, that he hadn't moved or said a word. She also discovered that his shoulders and back were rigid, and she could hear his labored breaths. She bit her lip in uncertainty and stilled her hands of their languid massaging.

"Peter?" she queried gently, and gasped in surprise as his gaze whipped up to hers. His eyes were blazing with an inner light, the skin on his face was pulled taut over the bones, his lips were a hard line beneath his nose. She held her breath and waited, like a rabbit hypnotized by a viper's gaze, for his next move.

He growled and closed his eyes and said in a rough, gravelly-sounding voice, "You're so beautiful. Your beauty steals my breath." Then he lowered his lips to the dark, small crest of one of her breasts and kissed her softly.

The dread his stillness had evoked washed from her body in a rush of breath and she smiled, closing her eyes to savor his tender caresses. He nuzzled between the silky mounds, tongued the tiny beauty-mark on the underside of her left breast, and rubbed his nose playfully against one hard nipple. She smiled and brushed her hand over his hair briefly. She was never still, never silent. She didn't lay placidly beneath him. Inexperienced she was, yes. Innocent, in the purest form of the word, absolutely. But her passionate nature would not allow her to simply lay there and not participate. Her hands roamed over him, touching everywhere they could reach, igniting little fires and moving on. Her legs rubbed continually against his, calves, feet, knees pressing and stroking and touching. She couldn't stop touching him. Her breathing grew quicker, her hips started pushing up against Peters in desperation. Oh god she was desperate for him.

"Peter, please." She murmured, threading her fingers through his hair and gripping his scalp tightly.

His body quivered again, and then his mouth turned hot. His teeth scraped over a nipple, and she cried out in shocked pleasure. Then he moved down her torso, nuzzling the underside of her breasts one last time before pressing open-mouthed kisses across her ribs, then working his way down to her navel, where his tongue delved into the perfect hollow of her belly-button. Everything's perfect on her, he thought. I must be losing my mind.

His hands reached down and gripped her hips, then smoothed down her thighs. Wrapping his hands around her knees he spread her legs wide and continued his kisses down her body. He paused to press his face to her pubis, inhaling deeply and nuzzling gently. She gasped and twisted in his grasp. He held her still and focused his arousing ministrations to her inner thigh. First he kissed the right one, scraping his teeth down then up it, licking the smooth, satiny flesh, nipping at the back of her knee. She cried out mindlessly and panted his name. Then he moved to the left thigh, repeating the process. His hands slipped beneath her and gripped her buttocks. He squeezed and massaged them as he kissed every inch of her flesh. But when he kissed her where she burned and ached for him, she grew suddenly still and tugged at his hair.

"Petter, no." She said on a husky breath. Clearing her throat she said it again. "No. I can't. I'm sorry, but I can't. You know-"

"Shhh," he instructed, cutting off her nervous rush of words and smiling tenderly. "I know. And I understand." He leaned forward to kiss her navel again. "Don't fret my beauty." Then he slid back up her body -yanking off his shirt and tossing it aside on the way- and took her mouth hungrily, thrusting his tongue past her full lips and ravishing her. His hands slipped inside her panties and cupped her bare bottom. She murmured her approval. He lay more heavily upon her, and began to rub his entire body against the length of hers. His chest hair abraided her sensitive nipples; his belly pressed to her belly; his pelvis ground slowly against the wet patch of her panties, and his hands never stopped their kneading of her smooth, round buttocks.

Eulalia couldn't withstand the torture very long. Her blood was pounding in her head, her senses were reeling, her skin felt too tight to contain the sensations Peter was evoking. She moaned and arched against his hard body. Tearing her mouth away from his, she started tugging at his pants. "Peter, please. Oh god please. Do something!" Her breath was heaving in her lungs. She fought madly with his jeans button.

Chuckling, Peter stilled her hands and sipped at her lips. "Calm down. Breathe Eulalia. Breathe." He took his own deep breath to get himself in check.

She took a gulping breath and tried to settle her nerves. Her body quivered like a bow string; sweat gleamed along her skin; her lips were red and swollen from his kisses. He gave her one last kiss before pulling back and crawling off the bed. He stood and looked at her, sweeping his dark gaze down her glowing body. Her hands fretted at the blankets. Her tongue darted out to lick nervously at her lips. Her nipples and areola stood out in sharp relief against her creamy skin. Long legs, he thought, sweeping his gaze back up her while he slowly rid himself of the rest of his clothing. Lush hips. Small waist, full, round breasts. He swallowed hard. Tremulous eyes. He held her gaze as he stepped out of his boxers, and managed to keep his lip from twitching in a smile when her gaze lowered to where his erection jutted proud and powerful from the dark delta of his pelvis and her eyes widened. Her mouth opened slightly and worked like a fishes. Then she simply closed her eyes, lay her head back against the pillows, and took several bracing breaths.

Oh dear lord, she thought. I wish I hadn't of looked. She moaned inside her head. Then the bed shifted and dipped as Peter knelt between her spread legs. She didn't dare open her eyes, but kept them squeezed tightly shut.

Peter allowed himself an amused smile. He knew he shouldn't laugh in the face of her all-too-real fear, but he couldn't help it. She was so damn adorable. Beautiful, stunning, breathtaking. But at that moment, trembling in the middle of his bed, bathed in a sea of moonlight, gripping the bedclothes in virginal terror, he thought she was the cutest woman ever alive. He bit the inside of his cheek to get himself under control once more -nerves were making him irrational- and reached out to remove her panties. Her breath shuddered out of her lungs as he gently slid them down her legs and off. She curled her toes into the sheets as that last barrier disappeared.

No going back now, she thought in a little burst of panic. Can't stop now! She tried to keep her breathing in check as she struggled not to cry. Her body became rigid with the internal struggle. It's going to hurt! she cried inside her mind. He's going to rip into you and make you bleed! She ruthlessly swallowed a sob. She had to get her emotions under control.

Yes, it would hurt. Losing her virginity was inevitable. But better with someone she truly cared deeply about then to some rapist or other guy who caught her on a 'hot' day. And Peter would be gentle. She knew it. She trusted him.

Her breath whooshed out when she realized she'd been holding it, and her eyes popped open. Peter came instantly into focus and filled her sight.

He knelt where he had knelt before, his eyes steady on hers, his body motionless. He waited patiently as she struggled with herself. He prayed she'd be able to put aside her fear -he didn't know if he could live much longer without having her- but he also prepared himself to put the breaks on. He would never force her. Nor would she ever let him. A half smile tilted his lips.

He finally broke the tense silence. "You okay baby?" His hands gently squeezed her calves. She blinked and couldn't help herself from glancing down to where his manhood still stood out in all its male glory.

This time she didn't look away as she said, "No." Then she took a deep breath and cemented her resolve. "But I know you'll make it okay." Her gaze lifted to his and held. She let go of the bedclothes and held out her arms. She wanted this. She wanted him. To hell with everything else.

Peter didn't hesitate. He went into her arms and settled once more upon her body. His mouth sought hers and he delved into her sweet intoxicating depths. Her nipples tingled when his chest hair once more brushed titillatingly along her skin. His penis pressed against the hot cove of her femininity. He felt her tense at the intimate contact, and he rocked his hips until her outer labia folds parted and he was cuddled by the soft flesh. He shuddered in pleasure and lifted his mouth from hers, searching her eyes. They were unfocused and at half mast. She panted, breathing deeply, and her fingers flexed on his biceps.

"Peter?" she queried softly.

He smiled and sipped at her lips, his hands massaging her scalp. "I'm just making certain you're certain."

She would have smiled, but the situation was too serious. She couldn't make her facial muscles respond. Instead she furrowed her brows and watched his face closely as her fingers explored its features. Thick arching eyebrows above penetrating brown eyes, round cheeks, long nose, wide mouth, little chin cleft. Barely protruding adams apple. She took a deep breath and wiggled her body under his. He hissed out a breath and ground his teeth, and her eyes smiled though her mouth remained serious.

"I'm certain," she finally said, her gaze holding his unwaveringly.

He lowered his brow to hers and nodded, letting out the expectant breath he had been holding.

His hands moved down her body leisurely, stroking softly along her sensitive skin. His mouth took hers again, gently, and he kissed her, long and deep, until her muscles turned to liquid and she was once again trembling beneath him with longing.

Peter then began to rock upon her slowly, his shaft sliding along her slick folds, the head brushing her clitoris every few seconds, so that each tiny caress was a jolt to her system. Her feet rubbed up and down his calves, and soon her hips began pushing upward in demand. Peter grimaced and finally reached a hand between their bodies to guide his throbbing penis to her opening. He concentrated on occupying her thoughts with his kisses, thrusting his tongue inside and stroking along the roof of her mouth in the motion of lovemaking. When the tip of his penis slipped inside her, he had to reign in the strong urge to possess completely, and he focused his thoughts on going slow.

He would push gently and then pull out, push gently and pull out again. Over and over he did this, until each push slid him deeper and deeper into her and he finally hit her hymen. She moaned against his vivacious mouth and her fingers scrapped his back. He groaned in the knowledge of what was to come, his brow furrowing for her impending pain and, slipping his hands beneath her bottom to lift her higher so he had a cleaner penetration, he pushed, hard, not stopping until he broke through. He didn't pause at her muffled yelp, but kept pushing until he felt the resistance of her uterus. Finally, he ceased. He settled his weight on her and nipped her lips, opening his eyes and watching her face. It was scrunched up in discomfort, but she hadn't shed any tears, and she wasn't shoving at him to get him off or cursing him, so he figured it hadn't hurt too badly.

"Lia," he murmured, kneading her buttocks and sipping at the corners of her mouth.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she had to blink a few times to bring everything into focus. Peters face filled her vision, and she noted the sweat gleaming along his forehead and upper lip, and the line of concentration between his brows. She pulled her legs up to cup his hips, and felt him shift inside her.She gasped, her eyes flying wide in wonder.

"Peter," she whispered, her hands stroking down his back to his butt. "That's you."

He couldn't help it; he chuckled, which only succeeded in moving him in her again. He groaned, she gasped, and tightened her knees around his thighs.

"Are you okay?" He finally asked. He didn't know about her, but he could feel the walls of her vagina pusling around his thick shaft. It was driving him crazy.

She nodded, and glanced down, a little disappointed she couldn't see anything. She wanted to see what he looked like buried inside her. Her gaze came back to his, and she blushed when she noticed how intently he was watching her. "I'm fine Peter. Really. That barely hurt at all." There was a note of surprise in the admission.

"Good." was all he said, trying to refrain from moving in her yet.

As if reading his mind, she closed her eyes, spread her hands along the width of his back, and tightened her vaginal muscles.

He let out a strangled moan, and took quick, bracing breaths, ordering tightly, "Don't do that! I'm trying to be still."

Eulalia opened her eyes and studied the look of consternation on his face. She grinned and wiggled her butt. The motion caused them both to gasp. Peter lowered his forehead to her chest and squeezed her butt. She winced.

"Please Peter, don't stop. It doesn't hurt." Not really, she added in her mind. Then she took the initiative and lifted her hips, sliding him deeper. She bit her lip in pleasure. Peter growled deep in his throat -there was no other word for the noise he made- and then lifted his head and stared into her eyes. Swallowing audibly, he carefully began to pull out of her, then slid back in all the way again, watching her every feature for any sign of pain. When she returned his gaze levelly, not flinching, not even blinking, but almost challenging him with her gray eyes, he lost it, and burying his face in her neck, he let his body take over.