by J. S. Scott
I knew that wrapping my arms around his neck was trouble, but I did it anyway. Fire was licking through my body, incinerating its way straight to my core. “Then do it, because the last thing I want is for you to feel sorry for me,” I whispered, tired of fighting the rampant attraction between the two of us.
The future didn’t matter right now. All I wanted was Trace. I knew I was only here to do a job, but I’d never felt this way about any man before. Carpe diem! Never had that expression meant more to me than right now. I wanted to seize the opportunity I had at the moment and not think about tomorrow.
I saw a flash of something resembling satisfaction as he lowered his mouth to mine. Then, I was lost in a world of crazy desire as our tongues and mouths fused in swirling desperation and insane need.
He kissed like a man possessed by a wild fury he couldn’t control. He held most of his weight off me, but I would have welcomed it. I wanted to climb inside him, feel our bodies meld and merge in the most elemental way.
I couldn’t get enough of him, and maybe one time with Trace wouldn’t sate my need, but I didn’t think about that. All I could do was…feel.
I panted as he pulled his mouth from mine. I wanted to protest when his weight lifted from my body, wanting to feel him again the moment he moved away.
Licking my lips, I could still taste his embrace as I watched him pull his sweatshirt over his head and dump it on the floor.
Sweet Jesus! He was perfect. Every flexing muscle looking like it was carved out of stone. His biceps had flexed as he’d relieved himself of his shirt, and his abs were so defined I could see every splendid muscle in his stomach and chest. Smooth skin that I was itching to touch was revealed, and I reached out for him with reflexive longing. I was desperate to see if his skin was as warm as it looked, and I was dying to trace the happy trail of dark hair that disappeared disappointingly into the waistband of his jeans.
“No, Eva,” he barked. “If you touch me, I’ll lose it.”
I wanted him to lose it; I lived to see him out of control right now.
“I want to touch you.”
He ignored my plea and sat me up to take off my sweater. It joined his shirt on the floor. I was giving thanks for Claudette as he removed the pink lacy bra I was wearing, releasing the front catch expertly. I shivered as the cool air hit my hardened nipples, letting him slide the silky undergarment down my arms slowly before discarding it in the growing pile of clothing on the floor.
“Beautiful,” he grunted, pushing me back down on the pillow.
I gasped aloud as his hot mouth met my sensitive nipple, sucking it into an ultra-hard peak. “Yes,” I whispered, unable to find my full voice.
He closed his fingers around the other tight bud, tugging with just the right pressure to cause a violent spasm in my core.
“Mine,” Trace demanding as he lifted his head from my breast.
At that moment, he owned my body, could do anything he wanted to me as long as he satisfied the excruciating ache inside me. “Yes,” I agreed.
Slowly, his mouth explored the valley between my breasts, and he tongued his way down my belly. I thrust my hands in his hair roughly, pulling on the strands as my hips lifted, frustrated by the denim between us as I tried to get friction where I needed it most.
His hands tore at the zipper of my jeans, as though he was desperate to get me bared to his hungry eyes.
I lifted my ass as he yanked at my jeans, taking the tiny pink panties down my legs along with my pants.
“Jesus, Eva. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he said hoarsely, reverently.
I’d never considered myself beautiful. At best, I thought I managed to be mildly attractive. But for one second, one instant, I let myself believe him. Immersing myself in his wild gaze, my breath stopped in my lungs and I was trapped in his intensely beautiful eyes, wishing I’d never get free.
A moan escaped my lips as he spread my legs wide, placing one of my calves over the back of the couch, and the other on the floor. When I was completely open to him, his fingers traced the lips of my pussy.
“You’re wet,” he rasped.
“Yes.” It wasn’t like I could deny it. The dewy moisture coating his fingertips was positive proof of how much I needed him.
“I love seeing you like this. You need me. It shows in your eyes.”
It was obvious that he needed me, too. His gaze broke from mine, and he looked down to where his fingers were playing.
“I do need you. Fuck me, Trace. Please.” I didn’t care if I was begging.
His fingers delved through my cleft, and his thumb did a tantalizing circle around my clit.
“I plan on it, sweetheart. But I’m getting addicted to watching your face. I want to see it when you come.”
His words set my body off like a human firecracker, electrical waves sizzling from every nerve ending.
“Touch me.” I needed him to stop teasing me.
“I can do better than that. I have to taste you.”
In the moment it took to process what he was saying, he’d slid down on the couch and lowered his mouth to my core so it could join his teasing fingers.
Unable to stop myself, I screamed his name as his ravenous mouth invaded my pussy, licking, sucking greedily like he never wanted to stop.
“Oh, my God. Oh, my God.” I was chanting the same mantra, stunned by the sensation of his mouth feasting on me, his tongue replacing his finger on my clit.
I could hear the sound of my own wetness as he buried his lips, nose and tongue in my core. He tasted, teasing, and then flicked the tiny bundle of nerves that needed his attention, driving my need to the point of insanity.
“Trace. Oh, God. Please. Make me come now.” I yanked on his hair, then urged his face to my pussy, letting him know how desperate I really was.
My body tensed unbearably, and I arched my back in agony.
I climaxed on a pitiful, loud, incoherent moan, babbling about how good he made me feel. Waves of ecstasy overwhelmed my senses, and I had no choice but to ride them as Trace lapped at my orgasm like he was trying to savor every drop.
My hands fisted in his hair as I hung on, helpless against the spasms that exploded from my body while Trace wrung every drop of pleasure from me that he could get.
I had achieved release, but I wasn’t sated. I watched as he got up and tore off his jeans and boxer briefs, setting his engorged cock free.
I was a bit daunted as I stared at him, but I wanted him inside me worse than I’d ever wanted anything else in my entire life.
Trace fumbled in his wallet and tore out a condom, rolling it on in what I was sure had to be record time.
He came down between my open thighs and kissed me. I sighed into his mouth as our bare skin finally met and slid together, creating a sense of closeness that had my body starting to burn all over again.
My taste was on his lips, and that spurred me on. Right now, he was mine. I loved the fact that my scent was on him everywhere.
Tearing his lips from mine, he started a trail of open-mouthed kisses down my neck.
“Wrap your legs around me,” he demanded gruffly.
I obeyed, loving the feel of him trapped between my legs.
The feel of his cock straining for entrance into my body consumed me. I flinched as he pressed harder, trying to breech me.
“Fuck! You’re as tight as a virgin, Eva,” he said, his voice graveled and desperate.
“Trace, I am a virgin.” Maybe I should have told him before, but I didn’t want him to stop.
“Shit! Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” His expression was fierce, his stare accusing.
“Fuck me. It doesn’t matter.” I lifted my hips, wanting him buried inside me.
“It sure as hell does matter. Hold on to me. I can’t stop.”
I was already running my hands over his damp skin, caressing his back. I stopped and grasped his shoulders. “Do it. Please.”
Surging forward with a groan,
he pushed his way through any barriers that would keep us apart and buried himself inside me. The pain was momentary and slight compared to the fullness and satisfaction I got from knowing he was connected so intimately to me. My muscles balked, and then gave way to his cock, relaxing as they lovingly enfolded him like a glove.
“So tight. So wet. So fucking hot,” Trace said huskily. “I’m never going to want to let you go.”
I knew he would let me go, but I’d worry about that later. Right now, all I wanted to do was experience my first taste of passion with Trace. He was the man I’d been waiting to give my untried body to, the man who could make me ache with desire. “Fuck. Me.”
He was clenching his teeth, the muscle in his jaw ticking. I knew he was trying to gain control, and I didn’t want him to find it. I tightened my grip with my legs and grinded up against him.
“Hold it, Eva. I can’t take you like this. I need to be gentle.”
“Screw gentle,” I panted. “I need you, Trace. Please.”
My words seemed to encourage him, and he pulled himself almost out of my channel before he slammed back in. “I have no fucking control with you,” he growled.
He fucked me hard, then harder still, like his life depended on him giving me his cock. I reveled in the soreness, the testing of my muscles as they clenched around him. “Yes. No control. No mercy,” I urged, wanting him just as raw and untamed as he could be.
“I can’t wait,” he said with an urgent groan.
He pistoned in and out of me so hard and fast that my short nails were digging into the smooth skin of his back. I could feel my orgasm rising, bubbling eagerly to release. “Don’t wait,” I pleaded, needing to watch him come.
He surprised me when his hand slid between our bodies, his fingers searching. I imploded as he put pressure on my clit, forcing me to an explosive climax.
Heat raced through my body, and my channel clamped down on his cock as I rode the waves of ecstasy coursing through my body.
I watched his reaction as he came, his head back, groans of pleasure slipping from his lips as naturally as breathing. “You feel so good, Eva. I never want to fucking leave you.”
I never wanted him to go, but I knew I was just living in the moment. There was no other man I’d ever wanted to give my body to, and my first experience had been divine. I hadn’t been waiting for anyone in particular, just somebody who made me feel the way Trace did.
We stayed connected, the weight of his body heavy but welcome as we struggled to breathe in the aftermath of a stunning pinnacle I’d never reached before. Stroking the damp skin of his back, I lost track of time. My mind was still reeling when he finally began to leave, placing a quick but passionate kiss on my mouth before he freed himself from my clinging arms.
He slid off me slowly, striding to the bathroom, presumably to lose the used condom.
I laid there watching him, unable to move, unable to think. My mind was as spent as my body.
He’d moved gracefully, without a hint of body shyness. Not that he had any reason to be self-conscious.
Moments later, he was back, and the steady pattern of breathing I’d reestablished became irregular all over again.
He sat and pulled my naked, vulnerable body into his lap. “Tell me. Explain to me why you would let me to take your body when you’ve never given it to any other man.”
“There was no other man I wanted to give it to,” I explained breathlessly. “It wasn’t like I was saving it for some reason, I just never wanted to be with anyone like that.”
He lifted a brow at me. “Nobody in all these years? Where the hell have you been?”
I took in his brooding expression, knowing I was going to have to tell him the truth. I felt vulnerable, stripped bare in a way I’d never experienced before.
“Eva?” His stare was unwavering, waiting.
I felt like he was staring directly into my soul, and God help me, I couldn’t lie. “I was in prison. I just finished my parole a year ago. When I was eighteen, I went to a women’s correctional facility for three years. I’m sorry. I should have told you. You just fucked a felon.”
I hadn’t thought about how he’d feel about screwing a convicted criminal. All I had wanted was just a moment to live a dream.
I struggled to get away from him as I saw the shocked look on his face, and for just a second, what I thought was probably revulsion.
I’m a criminal. What did I expect?
Nobody was going to overlook the fact that I’d been a prisoner for most of my adult life. Nobody ever did.
Stumbling to my feet, I turned and ran to my room, not even bothering to pick up my clothes. I locked the door with trembling fingers, turning around and sliding down against it until my bare ass hit the carpet.
Then and only then did I release the anguish that was locked up inside me, sobbing like a small child as I wrapped my arms protectively around my nude upper body and let the torrent begin.
Chapter Seven
Eva
I was devastated the next morning when the enormity of what I’d said and done the night before really hit me.
I sat up in bed, unrested, and tossed my unruly hair from my face.
“Oh, God,” I moaned as I ran a hand down my face.
I told Trace about my past after the most earth shattering moments of my life.
Everything he’d done to me and to my body had felt so damn perfect, every minute surreal. Why had I gone and destroyed it?
“Because there’s something about him that won’t let me lie,” I whispered to myself.
At some point during the night, I’d moved from the floor, undressed and donned a pair of pajamas. The tears had finally dried up, the sobs subsided. I felt worn out, raw and more vulnerable than I ever had in my entire life.
Trace had knocked on the door last night, but I’d stifled my painful cries while he was in the hallway, made myself not utter a sound. He’d finally left, probably assuming I was asleep. Unfortunately, I hadn’t slept much, and I’d been very much awake when he’d been hammering on my door. I’d just been too afraid to answer.
“It’s Thanksgiving. How am I going to face him?” I flopped onto my back and covered my face with a pillow. I was going to have to face him and live with the fact that he knew my history, and he hadn’t accepted it well. There had been anger in his voice last night when he’d come to my bedroom door, and really, could I blame him? I hadn’t been honest before he’d laid his hands on me, and he’d unknowingly been intimate with a felon, somebody he shouldn’t even know, much less screw.
“Eva!”
I jackknifed into a sitting position as I heard his low baritone outside my door. “I know you’re in there. I left last night to give you time, but I’m not leaving again. Answer the door or I break it in.” His fist pounded hard on the heavy wood barrier.
Resigned, I scooted out of bed and went to the door, unlocking it and turning around to walk back to the bed and sit.
He entered almost immediately, and I was certain he had been listening for the lock on the door to click. Of course, I was going to unlock it. Number one: there was no way I was going to let him destroy such a beautiful polished wood door. Number two: I couldn’t run away from the truth forever. There was no point in putting it off any longer.
I lowered my head and focused on the elegant pattern of the cream-colored carpet on the floor, not wanting to make eye contact with him. My crazy hair hid my face, and I waited.
And waited.
And then, continued to wait.
Every muscle in my body was tense, and I knew he was in the room. Not only had I heard him enter, but I could feel him. Trace Walker emitted such a compelling force of energy just by entering a room that he couldn’t be ignored.
Just when I was about to give in and look up, I found myself suddenly on my back, pinned by the significant weight of his body. “What are you doing?” My voice was tremulous as he pinned my hands over my head.
“Don’t ever do that
again,” he demanded in a husky voice.
“Do what?” I couldn’t avoid looking at him as he swiped my hair from my face.
“Leave,” he growled. “Run away from me. Don’t do it again. I fucking hated it.”
My heart skittered as I stared at his grim expression. There were dark shadows under his eyes, and I wondered if he’d slept. “You look tired.”
“I didn’t sleep much. It was hard to fall asleep after I found out I’d screwed a virgin without knowing I was her first. And I damn well knew you were crying.”
How had he known? I’d tried not to make a sound. The last thing I wanted was his sympathy.
“I wasn’t crying,” I told him stubbornly.
“Bullshit!” He frowned and traced what I thought was an invisible line of tears. “Your makeup is smeared.”
Shit! Shit! Shit! Damn Claudette and her magic mascara wand.
I was guessing that the telltale sign of my tears was now smeared down my cheeks in a black line of makeup that used to be on my eyelashes. I was going to nix the mascara from now on.
“I did cry, okay. I admit it. I was upset. It’s no big deal.” I tried to minimize the river of tears I cried the night before, and the release of the sorrow I’d bottled up inside me for years.
As I noticed his expression go from irritation to downright furious, I wondered if he had violent tendencies. He had seemed so in control, so sure of himself. This was a side of Trace that scared me just a little.
“It is a big deal. I hurt you. I’m sorry.” His expression was still angry, but his eyes were full of remorse.
“You didn’t hurt me. Not really.” I didn’t struggle in his hold. The weight of his body holding me prisoner was strangely warm and comforting, and his grip on my wrists was only tight enough to keep me from running away…again.
I didn’t deserve his guilt over taking my virginity. I’d given it to him willingly because I wanted that experience greedily. Desperately. I wanted someone to cling to for a short time. I wanted to feel like somebody cared. And most of all, I wanted the pleasure he could offer me.
“Then why in the hell did you take off like that?”