by Emilia Finn
“Is it all the way in?” She whimpers. “Jamie, how much more?”
I move back, careful not to pull out and undo the progress we’ve made, but I push up to create a gap between our chests and look down. I look back into her eyes. “Only a little bit left. It’s…” I hate what I know is coming next. “It’s gonna hurt a little bit.”
“Like a sting?” Her eyes flicker between mine. “Or like an arm being torn off?”
“Uh…” I choke out a pathetic laugh. “The stinging one, I think. Are you…” I swallow. “Are you ready?”
She nods. Rendered speechless from pain, though I beg the universe to make it from pleasure.
I’ve already entered her body. I’ve already broken the rule I set down for myself. Which means I’ve already committed the sin.
So I toss the guilt aside and lower down to my elbows. I finger the strands of hair from her face, stroke a thumb beneath her eye, and slowly nudging forward, I smile. “Are you crying because I suck at this?”
“No.” She arches up to wipe her cheek on my shoulder. “You don’t suck. I mean– oh!” Her voice comes out on a pained cry. “Shit.”
“I’m sorry.” I stop moving, and pepper kisses along her heated cheek. “I’m so sorry, Cam. Fuck, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she whimpers. She wraps her arms around my shoulders and holds me close. “It’s okay. It’s done now.”
“I won’t move until you’re ready.” I pepper kisses along her jaw and breathe her in. “I’m so sorry, Cam. I’m sorry.”
“Call me Quinn,” she whimpers. “Please.”
“Okay. Hey?” I brush hair off her face and wait for her eyes. “I love you, you know?” I press a kiss to her plump bottom lip. Her chin. “I really do.”
“I know.” She closes her eyes and breathes for a moment. She bolsters herself, prepares herself, then opening them again and rewarding me with the dirty denim I’ve been dreaming about for a year, she nods. “Okay. You can start moving again.”
“I think I might come if I move,” I joke.
She laughs so loud, so freely, that I see first-hand the movement in her delicate throat. “I think we’re gonna have to risk it.” She brings her eyes back to mine. Sliding her hands along my back and down to my ass, she nibbles on her bottom lip and nods. “Move.”
So I do.
I fix my knees beneath me, my elbows by her head, the angles of my hips, and slowly, smoothly, I pull out until the very end, then I slide in again and groan as my own pleasure scorches through my blood.
“Jesus.”
Warmth pools low in my stomach, and shoots tingles right down to my toes. Pulling out again, I grit my teeth in defense of the painfully tight fit, then I glide in and hold my breath when her whimpers of pain turn to something else.
Cam lifts her legs, wraps them securely around my hips, and smiles when our eyes meet. “Not as bad as I expected.”
“The best compliment of them all,” I choke out as I glide against her body. “Fuck.”
“Can we…” She licks her lips and studies my face. “Can we try it so I’m on top?”
“Fuck yes.” Without waiting or warning, or asking if she’s sure, I swing around and land on my back with a thud, but I don’t let her go. I drag her with me, smile at her scream, and when I settle on my back, we find that I’m still inside her, still connected, still dying from pleasure. But now I get to see her.
I hold her hips, hold her weight, and stare at her tits when she begins to move.
“Does that feel better?” I can’t stop looking at her tits. “Cam? Does that hurt less?”
“Quinn,” she repeats her earlier request, then nods. “And yes. It feels a little bit deeper now.” She rolls her hips in a seductive wave, and reaches up to push her long hair back off her shoulders. That results in a delicious arch of her back, a reposition of her hips, and a cry of pleasure when she rolls and I push up at the same moment she comes down. “Jesus,” she whimpers.
“Is this good?” I push up, wrap one arm around her waist, and use the other to support my weight. Then I take her nipple between my lips and try my damned best not to come as she cries out and squeezes tight around me.
“Jamie,” she whimpers. “Shit.”
“Ride me.” My words are muffled against her skin, but I suckle anyway. I nip. Bite. I pull her nipple toward me, elongate it, and groan when she tightens like a fist around my cock. “Just use me up, Quinn.”
“It feels so good,” she groans. “It’s like… like…” She drops her head back so the ends of her hair tickle my hand, and cries out when I bite down. “Fuckkk.”
“Does it hurt anymore?” I pull away from her breasts and wait for her to refocus on me. “Does it hurt?”
“No.” She cups my face and slams her lips to mine. “Doesn’t hurt anymore.”
“Thank god.” I take her weight with one arm around her waist, then lifting her just an inch or two higher, I drive my feet into the floor and slam my hips upward until we crash in the middle with twin cries of pleasure. Lowering down, holding her up, I do the same again and again so her tits bounce and my pelvis smacks against her clit each time we join.
Cam pulses around me. Vibrates. Clenches. And cries when I bury my face against her neck and bite down so hard she’s going to have to wear a turtleneck tomorrow or risk death.
“It feels like…” She continues to roll her hips and whimper. “Like I’m gonna pee.”
“Go with it.” I draw her skin between my lips and hold myself together. Just a little longer. Just a little longer. Just a little longer. “Don’t stop it, Cam. Don’t hold it back.”
“Oh god!”
The smooth roll of her hips turns to a jutting, a spasm as her orgasm races closer, closer. I hold her up, lift her higher so she moves to the very tip of my cock, then when our eyes meet – hers are watery, warm, sated – I slam her down and swallow her cry when her orgasm tips over the edge and drags us both down.
She clamps down so tight that I can’t move. Like a fist around my cock, squeezing, crushing, despite my plans to hold off and come outside of her, she tears me over the ledge and cries out when our explosions sync.
My thighs burn, but my orgasm forges forward like fire through dry trees. My stomach cramps, but jets of come stream out of me and into her. My vision turns spotty, but Cam’s orgasm strangles the life out of me. It goes on and on and on, but the power, the pleasure don’t abate. It wrings us both out, makes us both weak, so when it’s done and we’re left stranded among the wreckage of the storm we created together, Cam falls limp against my chest, and I simply give up on trying to be strong.
I drop back to the canvas, she rests on my chest, and together, we simply breathe. We clamor for air. We pray we can regain some strength between now and next week.
“Are you okay?” My chest lifts and falls with heavy, heaving breaths as I reach up and push hair away from her face. “Cam? Are you okay?”
“I’m sleepy.” A giggle follows her words and brings a smile to my face. “So sleepy.”
“Are you cold?”
“Mm-mm.” She hums and digs her hands under my shoulders to keep them warm. “My back is a little bit cold, but my front is warm enough that I don’t care.”
“Here.” I lazily reach up and pull her shirt back down. We didn’t even take it all the way off in our rush.
Helping her bring it down, we work our damnedest to get it in place without moving too much and undoing our sleepiness.
“Hold on.” Grumbling, she reminds me of a sleepy cat, cranky and ready to snap, as she pushes up off my chest, reaches down, and begins pulling her pants back up. When she gets the fabric to her thighs and realizes what comes next, she pouts and looks down at our crotches. “Is this gonna hurt?”
“No.”
Giving up on our rest, I help Cam, I hold her weight, prepare to lift, and when she makes the move, I slide out and feel bad when my semen dribbles onto her thigh. “I’m sorry.”
�
�It’s okay.” She looks at her leg, stark white skin, and studies the pinkish fluid that sits there. “I guess I bled a little bit.”
“Are you in pain?” I help her pull her pants all the way up, then I do mine too, since we’re already moving. “Are you hurting right now?”
She shakes her head. She almost looks to be in a daze. Floating around, smiling when our eyes meet. “Not in pain. Feels kinda nice, actually.”
“Yeah?”
When she’s fully dressed and reaches out for me, I take her in my arms and lay down so she becomes my little spoon. I bring my legs up, force hers up, and wrap my arm around her stomach until we’re tucked into each other in every way possible.
“Mm.” Her sleepy cat humming is back. “If I rub my thighs together, it still feels good.”
“There’s a lot of blood pumping in your veins down there right now.” I press a kiss to the back of her neck. “Lots of nerves and pleasure points.”
“I’m so sleepy.”
I chuckle. “The blood has officially left your head. Close your eyes for a minute if you want. Relax, beautiful. I’ve got you.”
“I love you, you know that?” She takes my hand and brings it up to press a kiss to the top. “I think I really, really do. The kind I’ll never forget.”
“I know I love you. The kind I’ll never have to forget, because I’m keeping you for the rest of my life.”
“How do you think that’ll work out?” she mumbles. “We live in different worlds.”
“You could live here.” I press a gentle kiss to her shoulder blade. To the ball of her shoulder. To the base of her neck, until goosebumps break out along her skin and make her shiver. “You and Will could come here, move in with me, be with me.”
“You want Will to move in too?” she snickers. “That’ll be fun.”
“If that’s what it takes to get you here.” I pull her tighter against me; impossible, but still, I try. “I’ll do whatever I have to do to make it so we’re together every single day.”
“Would you move to where I live?”
“Yes.” My heart races. Pain, longing. “If that’s what I had to do, then it’s what I’d do.”
“You have family here.” She yawns so big that her entire body tenses up. “You’d leave them for me?”
“They’d understand,” I whisper. “I don’t wanna leave them. If I could stay here forever, I would. But if my only choice was to stay and lose you, or go and keep you, then I know what I’d choose.”
“You’re such a sweetheart.” She smiles in her sleepiness. Molds her body to mine, and barely straddles the line between awake and asleep. “You totally would, too.”
“I would do anything for you. My family would be sad if we leave, but they understand love. They understand loyalty.”
“We’re only eighteen,” she whispers in her half-asleep lethargy. “They won’t understand that. They’ll say to wait.”
“They’ll say about time.” I press a kiss to the warm skin behind her ear and peek over her shoulder. Her eyes are closed. Her lips parted just a little as soft breath whistles through the gap. “I’m in it for life, Cam. I don’t know how to switch it off.”
“Baby?”
Mom’s gentle voice plays through my subconscious. Am I eighteen, or five? She sounds the same, her gentle hand on my arm is the same.
“Jamie? Wake up, baby.”
“Hmm?” I keep my eyes closed and snuggle in. “Not time to get up.”
“Honey.” Mom pats my arm again, a little harder, a little more insistent. “You need to wake up.”
“My shoulder’s sore.” I frown in my sleep and turn away from her voice. “Hurts.”
“Because you’re sleeping on the floor, dummy. Wake up.”
“No. Go ‘way.”
“Cam, sweetpea?” Mom ditches me, and moves on.
But that word, that single fucking word brings my eyes open with a snap.
Cam!
On the floor. My little spoon. She sleeps on my arm, grumbles as Mom shakes her shoulder.
And then it hits me.
I flop to my right like a fish on the dock, look at our little crowd – Mom, Dad, Aunt Tink and her wicked smile… Will.
“Oh fuck.”
“You are dead,” he growls.
Cam
Is It Too Late For A Convent?
“Will, you need to calm the hell down.” I stomp into our hotel room at a little after midnight and turn back when my brother slams the door. I had a nine o’clock curfew… and Mrs. Kincaid was tapping my shoulder at a quarter to twelve. “So I missed curfew—”
“It is the middle of the fucking night!” He storms forward like I were his opponent in the cage. Veins bulging, throat tensing, and stops so he looks down at me. “I spent nearly three hours searching for you! You didn’t just miss curfew, you were fucking missing!”
“I’m sorry, okay!” I spin away from between him and the kitchen sink, and go to the heater. I flick it on, but turn back to Will and dig my hands into my pockets. “Tonight was really special to me. For the first time in a really, really long time, I got to be happy. Don’t ruin it for me.”
“I thought they got you!” he explodes. “But no, it’s worse, because my baby sister is sleeping with a fucking fighter. In public!”
“It was an empty gym, and we were only sleeping. It was an accident. I was tired, I closed my eyes. I didn’t expect to be out for hours.”
“You were only sleeping?” His nostrils flare as he stalks forward. “Only sleeping? Are you sure about that?”
“What I do in private is none of your business. I am eighteen, Will. I am not a child.”
“You’re my child!” He grabs my wrists when I bring my hands up to brush my hair back, and squeezes until I cry out. “You’re mine! And you’re running around with this guy like you think you get some kind of future with him. That’s not how this works!”
“Are you mad at me because you thought I was missing and maybe hurt, or are you mad that I may or may not have had sex? Get your argument straight, William. Come at me with what’s really on your mind.”
“Both!” he roars. “I’m mad about both. I thought something bad had happened to you. For three fucking hours, I thought they got you. Then I find you, they don’t have you, but he does. And what you and he were doing was inappropriate!”
“How do you know it was inappropriate? You have no clue what we were doing!”
“Don’t fucking lie, Bubbles. Don’t treat me like a fool. You are eighteen, you’re beautiful, and you fancy yourselves in love.” He folds closer and spits out, “Don’t fucking lie to me!”
“I had a nice time,” I whimper. Up to this point in my life, there has only ever been one person on this planet with the power to make me cry. And he’s standing right here in front of me. “I got to think about me, about my happiness, about what I want, and I got to do it without guilt or worry. But you’re ruining it.”
“Without guilt or worry?” he growls. “You are not on the pill, Bubbles. And there were no condom wrappers laying on the floor. So how about you worry a little bit more!”
“If there were no wrappers, then how do you know we did anything at all?” I hate that my voice breaks. I hate that my heart breaks, because my brother’s love and approval has been my only possession of value my entire life. “How do you know?”
“You mean apart from this?” He flicks my neck, a mark, I suppose, left by Jamie’s teeth. “Or this?” He grabs my shirt. “This isn’t what you were wearing when I last saw you.”
“We were training,” I rasp out. “He was teaching me how to fight. Before that, he gave me gym clothes to wear so I wouldn’t have to do it in jeans.”
“Stop lying to me!”
“I’m not lying. We were really training!”
“I meant stop lying about sex,” he snarls. “I was eighteen once too, remember? I was young and stupid, and I took a girl’s bra off too.” He refuses to look down at my chest. He refuses to le
t his gaze leave my face. “You have hickeys, you’re not wearing a bra, your hair is messed the fuck up, and I found you asleep in his arms. How much more proof do I need?”
“I wanted to do it!” I cry. “I wanted to. I asked him to.”
“Fuck!” He spins away and slams his palm to the solid doorframe in lieu of ruining a wall. “I fuckin’ knew it! I’m gonna kill him.” His eyes come to me. “I’m gonna murder him.”
“He didn’t want to do it,” I plead. “He begged me to stop. He said it was bad.”
“It was bad!” he roars. “It was, Bubbles!”
“I wanted to do it with someone I love,” I choke out. “I love him, Will. And we both know, not everyone gets that for their first time. You and I both know that nothing is guaranteed. We know that we plan to come back next year, but there are a million ways that might not happen for us. We know! So I went into this week with an open heart. I told you I would.”
“Yeah.” He storms forward. “An open heart. You didn’t say shit about open legs.”
I swing out without thinking. Not a closed fist like Jamie tried to teach me, but an open hand. I swing so hard that fire sizzles against my skin and the clap echoes off the walls.
“I hate you! I hate you for ruining this for me.”
He brings a hand up to cup his reddening cheek. His eyes shimmer, not from my slap, but from my words. My actions. “And I love you so much that I’m willing to be the bad guy. I’m willing to be the heavy, to make sure you’re not going to walk into a wall of pain.”
“He loves me, and I love him.”
“And if you get pregnant?” he seethes. “What then? You can’t go to the hospital. You can’t sign a birth certificate. You can’t get benefits to help buy formula, and we sure as hell can’t afford that shit on our own.” He grabs my arms and shakes. “We’re barely eating as it is, Bubbles! We can’t afford to stumble, and a baby is bigger than a fucking stumble.”
“I’m not going to get pregnant,” I cry. “The timing is all wrong.”