The Haunted_Edit Copy 4-7-17

Tucker laid me down on his bed, and when he straightened
up again, he pulled my sweater over my head. When he climbed on
top of me, I found the bottom of his shirt and tugged it up until he
pulled it the rest of the way himself. He tossed it to the floor with
mine.
My hands roved down his chest and onto his sides until they
felt a scratchy, raised area. In the dark, I couldn’t see what I was
feeling. “Tucker, what’s this?” I asked.
“It’s nothing,” he breathed into my ear, his hips already
pressing against mine.
“No, really, are you okay?” I asked.
He pulled back. “Yeah, I’m fine. I caught myself on a shelf
at the shop a few days ago. Just a scratch.”
I moved my fingers away and focused on his shoulders
instead.
We shed the rest of our clothing and Tucker slid into me. But
the way his hips rocked was different. Just like the assertive way
he’d initiated this, he was moving with a confidence, with
knowledge. His motions were fluid like this was what he’d been
born to do. Then, he started to thrust at a different angle, and he
started hitting something he’d never touched before. This incredible
pleasure spread through my hips and legs until it engulfed my whole
body. I could barely move or breathe it felt so incredible. I didn’t
know where he learned to do that, but I didn’t care; I wasn’t
thinking. I was just feeling. His hips pumped faster and faster until
I was moaning like a porn star.
Then his angle changed again. And this time it wasn’t so fun.
His movements felt like they were tearing up my insides. Pain shot
through my body instead of pleasure.
“Ow, hey, easy!” I said.
He didn’t slow down. Little grunts of pleasure were dripping
from his mouth and his body was damp with perspiration. Fear laced
with the pain that was running through my nerves and I started to
push at his chest.
“Tucker! You’re hurting me!” I cried. “Stop it!”
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