“Your legs. They’re clamped shut. Like a vise. Try to relax.”
“Oh.” It was true. Her thighs trembled with strain. She was squeezing that sweet glow deep inside, keeping it armored by muscular tension. Keeping it hidden and secret. Safe from harm.
But that was for lying in bed reading sexy novels, not for going to bed with a real man. She would have to open up. God, so much could go wrong, she couldn’t even imagine how it ever could go right.
But she kept petting him, with greedy fascination. Following her instincts, following his rough gasps and shudders and groans.
His calluses rasped against her inner thigh, catching on the thin nylon of her stocking. He clasped the top of her thigh, just resting his hand, letting her feel his heat, his strength. His immense patience.
That patience made it possible to relax. Open her legs for him.
He sighed against her chest, and his hand ventured between her thighs, stroking her mound as if it were a shy kitten. His fingers tangled tenderly into her muff, petting gently without penetrating. Every faintest, glancing touch moved her, melted her.
His hand ventured deeper, and her thighs clenched around it, reflexively. His hand remained wedged between them, and he smiled at her as his long forefinger lazily stroked up and down the length of her labia. Up . . . down. Slow and gentle. Teasing, promising, reassuring.
“You’re so wet.” His voice sounded gravelly.
Oh, thank God for that. At least one part of the mechanism was in working order. She clutched his shoulders, clenched around his delving, stroking, clever fingers, gasping. Everywhere he touched or stroked or kissed came magically to life, blooming into brightness, full color, and it was a train barreling toward her now, certain annihilation, but it was too late to turn back, it was . . . oh.
It tore through her, shattering the world.
When she came back from that other, mindless, other-worldly place, her eyes fluttered open. She felt empty. Light and soft, diffuse. She could float on a breeze, like goose down. Dandelion fluff.
“So sweet,” he murmured against her throat. His tongue rasped tenderly up the tendon in her neck, licking her sweat as if it were some magic substance that he craved. “God, that was good.”
Then he cupped her breast again, and his arms slid around her, clasping her as he suckled her nipples again.
Sweet? Not sweet. It was total obliteration of self. But here she was, same old Sveti. Fears and problems and hang-ups fully intact.
“Ready to open up a little more?” His voice was low and careful, as if she were an easily spooked horse.
It embarrassed her to be so twitchy, which put the edge in her voice. “I have to, right? For this to work?”
His eyebrow tilted up. “I wasn’t the one who engineered the design of human sexuality,” he said. “It’s not my fault I’m the one with the dick, so don’t even try to make me feel guilty about it.”
Stellar. Perfect. Very smooth. “I’m not,” she said. “I’m just tense.”
“Hard to believe, after an orgasm like that.”
A lot of her life could be summed up like that. Hard to believe.
Sam scooped her into his arms and laid her gently in the middle of the bed. He reached to grab a string of condoms from the bedstand.
God. His body was shockingly beautiful. Muscular contours, sharp angles, and ridges of bone. His fierce, driving personality. So seductive, to have all that seething energy focused entirely upon her.
Of course, his fascination was just the product of his own fantasies, which he was projecting onto her. He didn’t really know her at all. When he did, he would run, without looking back.
So what? This was her chance. No mood-killing thoughts allowed.
Fortunately, she couldn’t really think a straight thought while touching him, mood-killing or otherwise.
He jerked her into a ravenous, breath-stealing kiss, cupping her face as if it were something precious and fragile, raining hot kisses down on her. It was that oncoming train, but not just her body. Everywhere. She was melting into his kisses and happy to be lost. He wasn’t grabbing or demanding. His lips just pleaded, softly, seductively, relentlessly, for her to soften for him. Open to him.
She did so, astonished. Opening like a flower to that sweet dance of lips and tongue, the sweet taste of him. She couldn’t resist.
Even though she sensed doom in the air, like snow on the wind.
He lifted his face. There was just enough flickering light to see the soft look of wonder in his eyes. It scared her to death. She waved it away. “Stop,” she said nervously. “Please. Don’t look at me that way.”
“I’m memorizing you like this,” he said. “This moment makes the cut for deathbed memories. So I have to pay attention.”
She flinched. “Don’t say that!”
“We’ve all got to die someday. Would you begrudge me the memory of your sweet kisses to comfort me in my final moments?”
“Don’t joke about that.” Her voice shook with intensity. “Don’t invoke death. It’s never far away. It doesn’t need to be invoked. It’s bad luck. So please, stop. Stop staring at me like you . . . like you’re . . .”
Like you’re in love with me.
That was it. The weight of impending doom snapped her nerve.
She scrambled off the bed. “I can’t do this. I’m sorry, but I—oof!”
She was lifted, turned. She landed, disoriented and bouncing in the middle of the bed. Sam straddled her, legs and arms caging her in.
“You’re not bailing on me now,” he said.
She blinked up into his face. “Sam, I—”
“I don’t care.” His voice was savage. “You are seeing this through. No matter how long it takes us.”
“Don’t dictate to me!” She shoved at his chest.
He trapped her wrists in his big hand. “Don’t be scared,” he said. “I won’t force you. But I won’t let you run, either. Not gonna happen.”
She bucked and squirmed. Something battered inside her chest, desperate to get out. Every move made her feel more frantic, in a frenzy of panicked excitement. He stared intently into her eyes.
“Is this what you need, to get through the wall?” he asked. “Do you need to fight me?”
That question was too dangerous and outrageous to answer, but the energy surged wildly inside her at his words, and he felt it. She thrashed and writhed, furiously. “Goddamnit, Sam! Let go!”
“No, just tell me,” he demanded. “And don’t be embarrassed. I’ll give you that, if that’s what works for you. But it’s not the kind of thing I want to get wrong, so be very clear. Is that what you want?”
One last convulsive heave of her entire body and she subsided, panting. She had barely jolted his bulk. “I don’t know,” she snapped.
His eyes slitted. “Figure it out fast. The choice is about to be taken out of your hands. I’m counting down from five. Say ‘stop’ if you don’t want this to happen. Okay? Five. Four. Three. Two—”
“You son of a bitch!”
“If that’s what you need me to be,” he said evenly. “One. Time’s up. Fight as much as you want. It’s my call now.”
She exploded into frantic movement again, but he countered every move she made, gazing intently to monitor her reaction.
He kissed her again, but it was very different now. Not pleading, not asking, but demanding. His kiss commanded and impelled.
She couldn’t stop struggling. It stoked the panicked, frantic energy like some crazy feedback loop. But he was incredibly strong. He steadily nudged her body into the position he wanted, flailing legs splayed, flopping arms pinned, chest heaving against his weight. Somehow immobilizing her without crushing her.
He let go of her arms, ignoring her slapping and flailing, and nestled his stiff cock against the folds of her labia. Slowly, rhythmically sliding it up and down, so that his cock stroked her in a long, gliding, oblique caress. His cockhead popped triumphantly out over the hood of her clit, gleaming from her lube�
��and disappeared again for a slow, voluptuous drag downward. She stared down, panting. His pulsing club of flesh was so thick, so hot and shiny. He caressed her clit with his cockhead. Circling, just enough pressure to madden her.
“Now,” he said. “Fight me now.”
The challenge in his eyes set her off, like the starting gun of a race, but he’d positioned her cleverly so that every writhing, heaving move she made just rubbed his thick shaft deliciously over and around her clit. Every desperate jerk and twist just made it worse. Or better. Tension clutched her throat. Her muscles were clenched and trembling.
Too much input, emotion, sensation. She was overloading.
He stopped, shifting his body so that he was no longer grinding against her, but poised and motionless, muscles clenched. Eyes closed.
She squirmed furiously in his grip. “Sam? What the hell are you doing? Why did you stop?”
“Stop moving,” he rasped. “Stay still, just for a second.”
“Still, my ass!” she snapped. “You were the one who got me all worked up. Don’t you dare play games with me, or I’ll kill you!”
“Just stop moving, or I’ll come all over you,” he begged. “Damn it, Sveti! Give me a second to breathe it down!”
“That is your problem, not mine! Move, goddamnit!”
His grin flashed. “Demanding bitch,” he muttered, but he resumed his rhythmic pulsing.
Sveti worked herself against his body, her movements frenzied, her gaze locked with his. He held her so tight, keeping her safe as the whole universe heaved up beneath her and turned inside out.
When her eyes fluttered open, he was on his knees, intent upon rolling a condom over himself. He caught her gaze, and his smile flashed. “You game to go all the way?” he asked. “You up for that?”
“I’m up for anything.” Her throat was cracked and dry.
“We never talked safe sex,” he said. “Or contraception. Just so you know, I’ve been tested recently. No STDs. No sex since then.”
“Me neither. And I have a contraceptive implant.”
“Good.” He didn’t look at her as he smoothed latex over his thick shaft, stroking it from root to head. “I’m using a condom anyway, of course. Just because that’s what you do, when it’s a one-off.”
“Ah, yes,” she managed inanely. “Of course.”
He rolled on top of her. “Got any fight left?” He gripped her wrists. “Because I have plenty left for you.”
“For you, Sam, always.”
He laughed as he jerked her into position, letting go of her hands to lift her thighs and spread them wide. He hissed with pleasure as she shoved against his chest, her nails digging into him.
“Cat claws,” he muttered, as he nudged his cock against her. “Go ahead. Hit me, scratch me. I won’t care.”
“We’ll see,” she panted back, swatting him. “I hit hard.”
“Do your worst, babe.” He thrust, a sharp, hard lunge.
She cried out, tightening against the sharp, awful pain.
Sam froze. His face went blank. He stared at her for a long moment. “Holy shit,” he whispered. “Oh, Sveti. No fucking way.”
She didn’t move, or speak. It hurt too much. Sam seemed likewise frozen. Seconds ticked by.
“You’re a virgin?” His voice cracked.
There was no point in answering. It was painfully obvious. She tugged at her trapped hands. He let go immediately.
“You didn’t tell me?” He sounded furious. “That’s insane!”
“Don’t yell,” she retorted. “I didn’t know it was required, to tell you everything about my sexual—”
“I would never have been that rough! Did you set me up for this? On purpose? That is so fucked up!”
She jerked onto her elbows. “No!” she protested. “I didn’t know it would . . . oh.” Her voice choked off as Sam withdrew, staring down.
He sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh, Jesus,” he muttered, and lunged for a box of tissues by the bed. He grabbed a handful.
“What?” She struggled to sit up.
“You’re bleeding,” he snarled. “Here, take these.”
Sveti stared blankly at the wad of tissues in his outstretched hand. After a moment, he made a harsh, impatient sound and pressed them between her thighs himself. “Squeeze your legs together, hard.”
She did so, but her face burned, and her privates stung. She was mortified. “Is it so much? How much is, ah . . . I mean, have you ever—”
“Had sex with virgins? A couple times. Once in high school, once in college. They didn’t bleed as much as you. One hardly at all. But I didn’t go in that hard, either! Because they fucking told me first, Sveti!”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, helplessly. “Really.”
He slid off the bed and slapped the door of the adjoining bathroom open with a smack of his elbow. The thud made her jump.
She stared at the patch of blood on the sheets. She hadn’t expected that. Or for it to hurt so much. Not from what her friends said about their first times. It hadn’t been such a big deal for them.
Though it didn’t surprise her. Many things that were no big deal for other people were fraught with peril and embarrassment for her.
It was, after all, the goddamn story of her life.
CHAPTER 5
Sam stared in horrified fascination at blood going down the drain, swirling around his toes. He should have known. In retrospect, it was so clear, but he’d been distracted by his clamoring dick, and the statistical improbability of a woman that beautiful managing to stay untouched for so long. And a contraceptive implant? What the fuck was that about?
God. He wanted to slam his head into a door.
Her shadow flickered behind the shower curtain. Rings rasped, as the curtain slid aside. She waited. He couldn’t bear to turn and look.
She laid a hand on his wet shoulder. “Sam—”
“Not fair, Sveti.” He pushed her aside so he could step onto the mat and dried himself, careful not to meet her eyes. “You’ve been busting my balls since we met. But this? Is all this carefully scripted to make me feel like shit? If so, congratulations. It’s working.”
“I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I didn’t know—”
“That your hymen was intact? Seriously?”
“No! I mean, I didn’t know it would be like . . . that. My girlfriends said . . . well, it was different for them. Not so dramatic. I was actually hoping you wouldn’t notice, to tell the truth. I didn’t want you to know.”
With that, he did look at her, uncomprehending. “Why not?”
She hesitated. “I was ashamed,” she admitted, her voice halting.
That left him floundering. “You lost me, Sveti.”
She pressed her hands to her face. “It seemed silly. So childish. I didn’t want to seem like . . . a loser.”
“Everybody’s a virgin at some point,” he said. “There’s no stigma.”
“Oh, come on!” she snapped. “It’s embarrassing! That I could never manage to . . . that no one ever wanted to . . . oh, bah, I don’t know. To be twenty-four, to have gone to high school and college, and all that time, I never managed to get laid. It felt kind of . . . pathetic.”
His jaw was sagging. “You?” He stared down at her body, which was such an astonishment to his senses, he could barely formulate a thought. “You, the goddess on high? The princess on the pedestal? You, pathetic? That’s pretty goddamn funny, Sveti.”
“It’s strange, Sam, but I’m not laughing,” she said.
“You know you’re drop-dead gorgeous, right? You know that any man who looks at you wants to fuck you. Tell me you know that.”
She winced. “That’s a ridiculous overstatement. I’m glad that you think it’s so, but I don’t feel it. I look in the mirror and I just see plain old me, nothing so earthshaking. But, ah, thanks.”
Plain old me. Hah. He gestured at his own erection, which had revved up to full length. “Check me out. Even after being traumatized
, my banner’s still on high. I never thought I’d be so heavy into pain. I’m discovering all kinds of dark, scary stuff about myself.”
“Dark, scary stuff is my specialty.” She grabbed him from behind and gave him a tight, awkward hug, and then fled for the bedroom.
He lunged for her, clamped his arms over her belly, and hid his face against her hair. “All I wanted was to please you,” he muttered.
She leaned back against him, with a jerky, shuddering sigh. “I know,” she assured him. “Really. And you did. You do.”
“Why do you make it so fucking hard?”
“I don’t know.” Her voice shook. “I swear. I would stop if I knew how, but I don’t expect it’ll get any better with time. I’m a mess, when it comes to . . . this kind of stuff. Probably not worth the trouble.”
It was precisely what he’d been telling himself ever since he met the girl, but his arms clamped tighter, squeezing out what air might have been in her lungs. “Trouble like my wildest dreams,” he muttered.
He was such a masochist, whispering sweet nothings to this girl, but she was leaning back, accepting the comfort of his body, and he was strung out on the sweet buzz that vibrated in his skin whenever they touched. It was a fleeting moment of grace before the next door slammed in his face, and he would, by God, exploit it to the bitter end.
He was just made that way. He never learned.
She wiggled in his grip, turning to press her face against his chest. She tasted the salt of dried sweat on his skin. The little flash of warm pink tongue acted like accelerant tossed onto a fire.
Then she reached down and gripped his cock.
Whoa. Sam’s breath froze. His shaft twitched and throbbed. She stroked, squeezed, from root to tip. For a virgin, she had some great instinctive moves. But no way. Not now, after what just happened.
He tugged her hand away. “Time out, Sveti. Take a moment. Clean up, chill out. Here’s a towel for you.” He passed her a towel from the stack and marched out without looking back at her.
He regretted it, the instant the door clicked shut behind him.
He turned on the bedside lamp, but the splotch of red on the sheet horrified him all over again, so he switched it back off. The candle was more forgiving. He got to work stripping the bed. Sveti came out as he was wrestling a fresh contour sheet over the mattress.
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