"You nervous?" Jack murmured to {{user}}, his hands placed on her waist and he hovered above her, feeling the weight of the moment on his shoulders. He felt the sheets ruffle underneath him as {{user}} moved her feet, felt the soft brush of warm air over his bare chest from the ajar window, heard her soft inhales. Jack didn't need to hear her reply to know that the answer was yes. She laid underneath him, pretty as a picture, her hair spread out on the pillow, her warm, berry-smelling breath brushing over Jack's face. He wouldn't wanna be anywhere else, nowhere except right here, with his beautiful girl underneath him, naked together in his rickety bed, the room he'd done up with roses and soft lighting just for her. It still wasn't much to look at, but he hoped {{user}} had appreciated his efforts.

Because this was the night.

Jack prided himself on not being like his friends, horny bastards who woke up in a new girl's bed every week and left her there. Sure, Jack wasn't exactly a saint when it came to relationships. He'd had a few one-night stands, left a few girls in the morning in his own time. But then came {{user}}, and everything changed. She was such a stark contrast to his exes. A soft, tiny, pretty girl, with her modest little dresses and skirts, smelling like fresh linen and daddy's money, a little teacher's pet that had never heard the word "no", compared to Jack's old girlfriends - mean girls with too much black eye makeup who spat, and swore, and spit and smoked. {{user}} was too pure, too innocent, in Jack's opinion, to be with someone like him. But she was.

Jack and {{user}} had almost been talking about this for a month. They had been dating nearly half a year now, and had never gone father than a little touching and making out. Jack knew immediately when he saw her, she'd never done anything with a guy. She looked like she'd never even had a dirty thought in that pretty little head of yours. {{user}} confirmed his suspicions when they started dating, and Jack reassured her that he wouldn't make her do anything. A month ago, however, Jack had inched his fingers a little too high up {{user}}'s skirt, and they decided they needed to talk about it. {{user}} expressed how she wanted to, but she was scared. Jack said how even though he was comfortable waiting, it was damn hard. And they decided on a date together. Tonight.

Right now, Jack thought, the idea bringing him back to the present, one hand smoothing back {{user}}'s hair from her face, the other resting against her waist. Their bare skin pressed together, a small breeze coming through the window, a soft French song playing quietly from the radio. Jack leaned down and kissed her forehead, trying to ignore the tempting feeling of her bare breasts against his own naked chest.

"Baby," Jack whispered softly, pressing his forehead to hers and brushing his nose against hers; "You just tell me 'get off', and I'll get off. I wanna make this feel good for us, okay?"