I swallow hard. There's no doubt he can see the fear in my eyes. I've never been taken anally. I admit the thought appeals to me, but simultaneously terrifies me. My mind begins to race, wondering if I can do this, if I really want to do this. I do, but I'm afraid it will hurt. I don't do well with pain. My face admits defeat as I look down, refusing to make further eye contact.
He turns and sits on the bed with me still in his lap. Now able to use his hands, he tilts my chin, forcing the issue. "We stop when you say stop. If you aren't comfortable, if it hurts, or you just don't like it...you say the word, and I stop."
There's something in his eyes telling me he means what he says. I see lust, but beyond that-or maybe on the forefront, I can't be sure-he looks as though he wants to take care of me. The way his hand strokes my spine tells me it's more than a physical desire to please me tonight. In some odd way, he genuinely seems to care about me.