She’s the only girl for me. Ever. From my first memory, it has always only ever been my Wendy. Taking a step like this feels so right, inevitable, and we can’t deny each other any longer.

“Peter,” she whispers, as my mouth falls back to her neck. I kiss, taste, suck a trail to her collarbone, down her chest, to her breasts that I can’t stop thinking about. Not since the night I flew back through her window and carried her back with me to Neverland.

“Can I touch you here, Wendy?” I ask, setting her down on her feet and taking a step back.

I run my fingertip along the lace at the top of her light blue nightgown. She shivers and I can’t for the life of me tear my eyes away from her breasts or the nipples I see piercing through the thin fabric. Finally, my gaze lifts long enough to see her nod her head with approval and this time, I hold my breath as I step back into her and slowly start to unbutton her shirt.

“Have you ever had someone touch you here?” My fingers get to the last button, and I wait, realizing how much I need her to say no. How much I need to be the only one that has ever touched her like this. Ever will touch her like this.

My hands raise gently on either side of her breasts to her shoulders, but I don’t look away from the fabric still covering her chest.

“No,” she finally whispers.

A smile spreads across my face as I push the top of her nightgown off her arms, exposing her to me for the first time. I run my hands back down, across her curves, holding her breasts in my hands and groaning at the weight of them in my palm.

“Have you ever had anyone taste you here, Wendy?”

She sucks in a breath. I take her nipples in between my thumb and finger and gently roll them, my dick hardening even more as her head falls back and a moan escapes her lips.

“No,” she whispers again.  “Please,” she begs. “Please, Peter…”

My head lowers to her breasts, but just before I suck her nipple into my mouth, I dip my hand to her center and rub between her thighs. She gasps out loud as I fill my mouth with her smooth skin and run my fingers back and forth across her most delicate spot.

“And here?” I groan, feeling pride fill my chest when a wetness begins to coat my fingers. “What if I taste you here, Wendy?”

“I,” she pants, “I don’t, I don’t know.”