by S. E. Lund
I kept still, not thrusting, and rubbed her clit in lazy circles with my thumb, one hand on her breast, squeezing her nipple between my fingers.
Soon, she began to move on me, just small movements as if she wanted to feel me deeper. I let her push on my cock more deeply while I kept my thumb softly circling her clit. Soon, as I had hoped, she tensed up and I knew she was close.
"Oh, God…" she cried out and I knew she had gone over the edge. Her body rhythmically clenched around the head of my cock, making me gasp with pleasure.
"That's it," I said with satisfaction and entered her more deeply, knowing she was in ecstasy. I began a slow thrust while she recovered, taking my thumb off her clit and focusing on my own pleasure now that I was filling her with my cock right to the hilt.
Watching her pleasure, feeling her body clench around the head, had brought me close enough that with only a few moments of deep thrusting, I was at the precipice myself. I leaned over her completely, my hands on either side of her shoulders, and watched her face. I wanted her to watch me come as I had watched her.
Pleasure spread from my balls to my gut and down my legs as I came, almost blinding me with its intensity. I thrust with each spasm and then collapsed on top of her. She slipped her arms around my neck and pulled me close as I panted, recovering.
"It barely hurt at all," she said, and when I pulled back to look in her eyes, I saw happiness there. She had been afraid of pain, but had felt little and had, instead, orgasmed twice.
"My work here is done if that's the case," I said with a grin, bending down to kiss her smiling mouth. "It'll only get better the more you fuck. You'll learn what you need. You’ll be able to come with your partner if you're not afraid to do what works."
"Thank you," she said softly.
"Are you sore?" I asked when I began to slip out of her.
"Not too bad," she replied.
I gripped the edges of the condom so that it didn’t slip off. On my shaft were a few streaks of blood, so I knew she had been a virgin. I would have liked to see no blood, but that wasn't always possible. Every woman's body was different.
I removed the condom, tied off the end and threw it into the waste basket beside my bed. Then I laid back down and kissed her, nestling between her still-open thighs.
"How are you?" I asked, resting on my elbows, my face above hers.
She smiled and raised her arms over her head. "I'm good. I didn't think I'd come when you did it. I thought it would hurt too much."
I shrugged. "It all depends on how ready you are. If you're not wet and aroused, you're not going to enjoy anything. It would be like rubbing your elbow. When you're aroused, it's like scratching an itch."
"God, no wonder they try to keep you a virgin," she said, closing her eyes and running her fingers through her long hair. "If I’d known how good it felt, I'd have been doing it all the time."
I laughed at that, pleased it had been so good for her. "I'm glad you waited."
She frowned. "But I would probably be a lot better at it if I had more experience, right? Wouldn't you prefer someone who knew what they were doing?"
I shook my head. "I enjoyed being the one. Your body is delicious, and I loved it when you came on my cock."
She wriggled underneath me. "I loved it when I came on your cock too. If it wasn't so late, I'd want to do it again. But I should get back to the dorm. I need my sleep."
I smiled at that. "A girl after my own heart. You could stay here if you want, but I understand. I'd love to do it again if you could stay. I'm in town for another week so maybe, if you want, we could get together again before I go. We could see how many times we could make you come."
She kissed me, her eyes twinkling. "I'm at your disposal. Besides, I need the practice."
"Need the practice…" I said with a grin. "What night works best for you?"
"Any night except Wednesday, because I have an astronomy lab."
"I'll text you. We have some time."
"Seriously, you could do me every night if they're like tonight."
I laughed. "I could do you, could I?" I bent down and kissed her deeply, glad that she was so relaxed and eager to be with me again.
We pulled apart finally, and I helped her off the bed. Beneath her on the sheet was a single smear of blood.
"I should keep this," she said with a grin, pointing to it, "and give it to Spencer as proof that I was a virgin on my wedding night."
"Look, by the time you get married, Spencer will have no power over you. Your husband will be glad he married you no matter whether you were a virgin or experienced. Only a small-minded religious zealot would expect a woman in her twenties to be a virgin."
"I hope so," she said. "I might give it to Spencer as a gift anyway, no matter who I marry. Shove it in his face."
"He's such a bastard." I shook my head, still angry that he’d had the nerve to hit Celia across the face. "I'm sorry you’ve had him as a stepfather all this time."
"I'm a free woman now," she said and raised her hands over her head, smiling. "He can't touch me." She shrugged and I hoped she was right. Spencer was pretty big in Boston. He seemed like the kind of man who would hold a grudge and try to get revenge. If he hurt his stepdaughter—slapping her across the face at her age—he'd do worse. I knew it.
"Try to stay under his radar even so," I said. "He's powerful."
"He's a sonofabitch." She got up and dressed, pulling on her underwear and other clothes.
I was sad to see her delicious body covered up. I usually didn't like it when women stayed the night, and encouraged them to go home early with some excuse or other, but I would have made an exception for Celia so we could fuck again. I would have loved to see her wake up to my mouth on her pussy.
We left the apartment and went to my car. While I drove her back to Cambridge, we talked about our lives, my time at boot camp and her classes. When we finally drove up to her dorm, I wished we weren't saying goodbye. Although she seemed pleased with the night, you never knew what people were really thinking. Would I see her again before I left? Did she want to hook up again or was she just being nice?
I knew I wanted to see her again. She was a delightful partner despite her innocence and inexperience. I hadn’t realized how much I would enjoy being her first lover, and part of me wanted to be her only one. I would have time off now and then, and I intended to return to Boston to visit my father and brothers. Maybe I could see her as well, although I doubted anything more could develop.
She'd meet someone at Harvard and that would be that.
I had to settle for being her first.
"Here we are," I said, turning to her after parking on the street outside her dorm. "Thanks for a great time."
"It was great," she said and smiled at me, her expression a bit wistful.
"I hope you enjoyed it."
"I did," she said softly. She bit her lip. "From the time I first saw you when I was nine. I didn’t know about sex at the time, but I knew about kissing. I wanted to kiss you. Later, I wanted you to be the first."
I leaned over and kissed her, surprised she had felt that way. "I never knew."
"You were too old. You didn't look at me that way but you were my crush."
I smiled, amused that she’d had a schoolgirl crush on me. "You let me know when you're free. I'll be right over. We can go out for supper, we can go to my apartment, your place. Whatever you want."
"I'll text you."
We kissed again and then she left the car and walked to the entrance to the dorm. When she got to the doors, she turned and waved at me. I waved back and then drove off once the door closed behind her, shocked that things had turned out the way they did. I'd imagined fucking her when I’d seen her at the beach party, but wouldn't have touched her to honor my friendship with Graham. But she had wanted me. She was all grown up. She had the right to choose who she wanted to be with.
I was glad she’d picked me.
Chapter 12
Celia
"Where the hell have you been?"
I frowned and pushed my way into the room, putting my bag down on the table. "What are you doing here? Who let you in?"
He jerked his head to the side. "Your next-door neighbor."
"Why did she let you in? She knows not to let anyone in when I'm out."
Spencer stood and came over to where I was. "I told her who I was and that I wanted to go inside and wait for you. Where the hell were you?"
"You could have texted me."
I went to mini fridge and took out a bottle of water, my heart pounding, fearing that Spencer was here to fight.
"Who were you with?" he said, his voice gruff.
"It's none of your business who I was with. A friend."
"Don't tell me it was that Saint thug."
I turned to face him. "Can you leave now? I'm fine. I need to go to bed and get some sleep. I have class tomorrow."
He stepped closer. "You've been drinking. I can smell it on you." He pulled me even closer and I struggled with him to get away. "You smell like sex."
His hand gripped my arm, squeezing so hard it hurt.
"Get out," I said, my voice low.
He slapped me. I expected it, and didn’t care. When I recovered, my hand over my cheek, I tasted blood. It wasn't the first time he'd drawn blood, and unless I could escape him, it wouldn’t be the last.
Mara, the girl who lived in the next room, peeked her head inside. She saw me standing with my hand over my cheek, tears in my eyes from the pain.
"Are you okay?" She saw my face. "Can I call security?"
"My stepfather was just leaving," I said, standing my ground. "Please leave," I said to Spencer, my voice firm.
"I'll leave when I decide."
"Leave now," I said, "Or Mara will call security."
"We're not done here," Spencer replied.
I turned to Mara. "Call security."
He pointed at me, his face so red that I thought he might explode. "You don't speak to me that way and you don't tell me to leave. I control your trust fund and I can stop paying for your room and board. Tomorrow."
"Go ahead," I said, my hands on my hips. "I'll get a job and live somewhere else."
He stepped closer, furious that I would stand up to him like that. "You'll regret this."
"So will you," I replied. "You better leave."
"I'm calling security," Mara said and held out her cell, showing that she'd dialed a number.
"You're a filthy slut," Spencer hissed and pushed by me, almost knocking me down. Mara stepped aside and watched as Spencer stormed down the hallway to the stairs.
"Are you okay?" she asked, coming over to where I stood. "Do you need to go to the hospital?"
"No," I said and rubbed my cheek. "He's done worse. I'm just glad he's gone."
"That's assault," she said, her brow furrowed. "He hit you. You could charge him with assault."
I shook my head. "He's the Assistant District Attorney, on his way to becoming DA. He's best friends with everyone who matters in the city. No one would believe me."
"Will he really stop paying for the dorm?" she asked, her arm on my shoulder.
"Yes," I said and shrugged.
"Where will you go?"
"I'll get a job. I'll find a room somewhere. I don't need to be here."
"That sucks," Mara said, and made a face of sympathy. "Maybe he was just mad and won't really cut you off. What happened?"
I went to the bathroom down the hall and Mara followed me. I splashed water on my face while she watched. "I was with my boyfriend. Spencer hates him. That's all."
"I didn't know you had a boyfriend." Her eyes widened. "Do tell, please."
"We just started seeing each other. He's going to Parris Island next week to become a Marine." I smiled, giddily imagining that Hunter was my boyfriend for real. Except, of course, he wasn't. I knew he wasn't the boyfriend type. He preferred to remain single, although he always had women around him, willing to keep him company.
Besides, I was just a kid compared to him. He'd finished his MBA and was going to become a Marine. He was a man. I didn't feel at all like a woman, even though I'd just been deflowered. Spencer tried to keep me a child because of his zealot commitment to protecting my virginity. He had to make sure I didn’t damage his good name in the evangelical community, where he held a position as leader of a Bible study group and "pillar of the community."
That was twice Spencer had hit me in the space of a few days. I knew I should go to my mother and tell her, but she was so fragile. Spencer was never violent with her—just Graham and me, telling us he couldn't spare the rod or he'd condemn us to hell. He had often told me that he hit me because he loved me, but I wasn't buying it. Spencer had stopped hitting Graham when Graham got big enough to fight back.
Spencer hadn't hit me for a while—not since Graham was strong enough to defend me, but Graham didn't always step in. Like Saturday night. Even Graham was mad at me for kissing Hunter. I was surprised that he hadn't stood up for me, but Spencer was holding the purse strings on Graham's start-up funding, so he might have been reluctant to make Spencer mad.
Spencer was a monster who dominated both our lives. How I hated him.
Mara finally left me alone, once she was sure I was okay. I had a quick shower and got into my bed, taking out my cell and checking to see if Hunter had texted me.
Sure enough, he had.
HUNTER: Hey. How are you? Any regrets now that you're back home?
CELIA: Not even the slightest doubt.
HUNTER: That's good. I wanted to make sure you were okay about tonight.
CELIA: Couldn't be happier. Only thing I would like more is another date before you go.
HUNTER: Count on it. Text me tomorrow when you want me to pick you up. We can come back here or go to your place. Up to you.
CELIA: Okay. Nite.
HUNTER: Good night.
I didn't want to tell him that Spencer knew we had been together. If I did, I knew Hunter would be honorable and never see me again. Instead, I lay back in bed, smiling, thinking of seeing Hunter again, and how we'd get some practice in. With that thought in mind, I turned off the bedside light and rolled up in my blankets.
I'd go looking for a job tomorrow so I could be free of Spencer, no matter what happened. I could handle a second job if that was all I could get. Tips were good so I hoped I could afford to find a house to share or a bed-sitting room somewhere in Cambridge if Spencer followed through with his threat. I'd hate to leave Kirkland House because it was a plum placement. I would hate to lose my place there.
But the most important thing was that I had a tuition scholarship which paid for my classes and books. I'd have to scramble to find a place to live if Spencer did cut me off. Once I was twenty-one, the trust fund would be under my control, and I couldn’t wait for that. I'd be completely free of Spencer at that point.
I could ask for more shifts at the restaurant, but I could never get enough shifts to afford room and board or rent and expenses.
I fell asleep to that calculus—hoping I could afford to move out if Spencer followed through on his threat.
The next day, I woke up sore from the night before. It was a pleasant soreness, at least to me, because it meant I was no longer a virgin. I had a bath and then went to my classes, almost forgetting about Spencer and his economic tyranny. But it was brought back to me all too soon, when Spencer showed up at my dormitory after classes, while I was sitting at my desk reading over the next day's material.
The knock at the door interrupted my focus on an astronomy text calculating the distance to the moon. I went to the door and opened it, and Spencer barged inside, wearing his business suit, his briefcase in hand.
"What are you doing?" I said, angry that h
e felt that he could just come over without calling first.
"I'm here to save you from yourself," he said and stood by my desk.
"What do you mean?"
"I want to show you something," he said and reached into his massive briefcase. "Maybe it will help you see the light about your boyfriend."
"He's not my boyfriend," I said, angry that Spencer was back.
"Look at this," he said and handed me a file. "Read it over. Maybe this will convince you he's a thug, and no good for you if you want to ever make anything of yourself."
I took the file and opened it, thumbing through a dozen sheets of paper and photographs. Some of the names had been blacked out, but there was enough there that I could get the gist.
It was a police report about an assault that happened over a year earlier. The man in the very graphic photographs had been beaten almost to death, his leg broken, his arm broken, and his face beaten so badly, his eyes were swollen shut.
There were two mug shots included in the file.
One of Sean.
One of Hunter.
I covered my mouth and read the police report with horror. The man's wife reported that her husband owed Donald Saint money and that his nephews Sean and Hunter Saint had come to collect and had beaten him almost to death when he had no money.
"I can't believe it," I said and shook my head, my stomach feeling sick at what I saw in the photos.
"Believe it. I want you to promise you'll never see that boy again. He may seem all nice to you, but he's a thug underneath the pretty boy façade."
"I can't believe he actually beat someone up. He hates that side of his family."
"Apparently not enough to stay clean," Spencer said. "Blood is thicker than water, Celia. It's time for you to grow up and realize that. All that fighting he did as a kid made him and his brothers perfect for the protection racket that his uncle and father are involved in. If you want to be a prosecutor some day, you have to stay away from people like Hunter."