I'd say it's not what I'm expecting, but then, it isn't as if I could have really known what to expect. What I do know is that it takes everything in me not to cry out when he presses inside of me, a cry I stifle by biting hard on his lip, my body going tense under his. There's no pretending now that I have any kind of experience to speak of, but at least that hasn't stopped him yet. Though it hurts — and though I'd never admit that — I have no intention of letting it do so, limbs wrapped around him, my head tipping back so I can gasp in a breath only to kiss him again. "You — you really think highly of yourself."