by Roxy Reid
“It’s not that,” Sienna says, and I look up at her.
That’s a mistake. Her cheeks are flushed, her hair’s a mess, and her sweater has fallen off her shoulder, exposing a pale pink bra strap that is now seared into my brain.
She looks like a woman about to be fucked, and it’s killing me.
“The thing is,” Sienna says, tucking an unruly strand behind her ear. “I haven’t had sex yet.”
I sink down onto my heels, stunned.
“It’s not like a religious thing,” she hurries to explain. “It’s just the first time I fell in love, I was young, and I wasn’t ready to. We did other stuff, but not… that. And then I was busy getting over him, and then I was busy having adventures and doing what I wanted, for the first time in my life. And now that I’m older, and ready, and secure enough in my life to want to let someone else in like that … Let me tell you, trying to meet men in this city is not easy.” She laughs a little, but it sounds nervous.
I hate that she’s nervous. I hate that I’m making her nervous. I stand up slowly, careful to give her as much physical space as she needs, “I completely understand, and I respect that. I’m sorry, I misread the situation.”
“You didn’t misread the situation,” she peers up at me from under her lashes. “You just… sped up the situation.”
That makes me feel a little better, but still. Idiot, thy name is Joshua King.
“Well, I’m sorry I sped up the situation,” I hesitate, trying to think of something else to say, but there’s really no salvaging the situation. I lost my head and tried to go down on my virgin employee who I shouldn’t have been kissing in the first place.
“I just hadn’t found someone I wanted to have sex with, who, you know, also wanted to have sex with me–”
“You really don’t have to explain. It’s obviously your body, and absolutely your choice. I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable, let me drive you home–”
“Joshua!” Sienna puts her hands on her hips, exasperated. “You’re not listening to me.”
I bite my tongue and wait.
“I said I hadn’t found someone I wanted to have sex with. I have now.”
I’m trying to keep my expression neutral, because it’s none of my fucking business, but black thunderclouds are roiling inside me at the idea of Sienna with someone else. Whoever he is I want to hit him. I want to hit him, and ruin his career, and also give him a long and intensive lecture on how he should treat her well. Not necessarily in that order.
Some of my jealousy must be showing on my face, because Sienna throws up her hands. “Oh my God, Joshua. It’s you. You are the person I want to have sex with.”
The storm clouds vanish, but after all the misunderstandings we’ve had, I need to make sure I understand her perfectly, “But you said stop.” Understanding dawns, “Oh, you mean no, not now. Like in the future, when you’ve had some time to think about it, maybe–”
“No, I mean like in a half hour, once you’ve found us a bed with some sheets,” Sienna gestures around us. “I’m not having sex for the first time on a beach with no blanket. You’re hot, but it just doesn’t seem comfortable…” Sienna trails off, for the first time looking unsure. “That is, if you want to?”
“Yes! God, yes,” I kiss her again, and then again, and when I come up for air she’s smiling at me, sly and knowing and feminine.
“Got any special requests?” I ask, my mouth inches from hers. “For your first time?” I can’t believe it’s her first time. I can’t believe she’s trusting me with her first time.
“I’d like to be on top,” Sienna breathes. “I hear that’s the most satisfying for a woman, the first time.”
My brain pretty much shorts out.
“But you can be on top after that,” she says helpfully.
“We need to find a hotel,” I growl. “Now.”
13
Sienna
The hotel we find is in a wooded area overlooking the ocean, and the first thing Joshua does when we get there is throw open the balcony doors, so that the fresh sunlit air wafts through the room. The sheer white curtains waft gently in the breeze.
Joshua turns to face me, and I have the sudden, absurd urge to laugh. I’m losing my virginity in a hotel room that looks straight out of a photoshoot, to a movie star. To my movie star. This isn’t the way people have sex for the first time. This is the way people have sex for the first time in soap operas. In romance novels. Not in real life.
Joshua tilts his head, a small smile on his face, “What?”
I laugh, and shake my head, and shrug. Because really, what am I supposed to say? You being in my life is unrealistic. You wanting me is unbelievable. It’s a plot hole in a universe gone gloriously crooked.
As if. I am not giving him time to change his mind.
He’s a better partner than me though, because even as I’m thinking that, he says, “Look, if you change your mind at any time we can stop. If it hurts, we stop. If you’re just not feeling it, or you decide you want to wait after all, or you don’t have any reason at all, you just don’t want to…”
“Are you trying to talk me out of having sex with you?” I say.
“No! No. God, no,” Joshua crosses the room to me, takes my face, and kisses me firmly. Like I am his to kiss.
Which, I guess for tonight, I am.
The knowledge sends a little shiver down my spine, and I feel that insane attraction rising in me again. I try to push it away, out of habit, and then I remember, a wonderful, glorious thing.
I don’t have to push it away anymore. I can give in. I can fall.
I slide my hands up Josh’s arms, and there’s nothing demure, or ladylike about it. My hands are eating him up, letting him know exactly how much I want him.
Because tonight, he is mine.
Joshua breaks away, and his breath is ragged. He presses his forehead to mine, “What do you want, Sienna?”
A million fantasies flash through my mind, from the normal to the kinky, and I’m pretty sure one of them is actually a scene from one of his movies.
I bite my lip, thinking. A girl only has sex for the first time once, after all.
Apparently, I’m taking too long, because Joshua’s hands slide down my back, gripping my ass, pulling me in to him, and oh, he’s hard. He’s hard and it makes my knees weak.
“Shall I tell you what I want?” he asks at the same time I say, “Take your shirt off.”
“Oh. So she does want something,” Joshua smirks down at me, but the playfulness fades as his eyes trace my face.
Suddenly, he kisses me, gentle and solemn. His lips drift away, finding my neck. My eyelids drift closed, and then he kisses those too.
It’s somehow more intimate than anything we’ve done before. I brace my hands against his chest and lean back to look up at his face, “Joshua. What’s going on?”
“I just…” he cups my cheek. “I really don’t want to screw this up. I want it to be sexy and magical and thoroughly up to your justifiably high standards. I mean, you’ve waited this long...”
“Joshua…”
“I don’t want you to regret it,” he searches my eyes. “I don’t want you to regret me.”
He doesn’t add, Whatever else happens, but I hear it all the same.
I reach up and trace the faint smile lines at the edges of his eyes. “I won’t regret it,” I promise him.
“But what if I… Sienna, I haven’t been with a virgin since I was a virgin, and let me tell you, I blew that pretty spectacularly.”
“Ha. Pun. Cause, get it you…” I waggle my eyebrows salaciously, and he groans.
“Sienna, be serious,” Joshua steps back. “It will probably hurt before it feels good, if it feels good the first time, and I don’t want to hurt you.” He runs his hand through his hair. “Why are you smiling?”
“Because,” I say, as I step toward him and start to unbutton his shirt. “It’s cute that you’re nervous.”
“I’m not n
ervous–” he breaks off and shivers as I scrape a nail over his nipple.
I’m a virgin, not a novice, “I take it you like being touched there?”
“Sienna, you’re not listening to, to…” he trails off as I dance my fingers along his waistband, then rise up on my toes and find a spot on his neck that shuts him up completely.
“I’m smiling,” I say, after about five minutes of exploring Joshua King, “because that’s actually a myth.”
“Huh?” Joshua says, his eyes dark and unfocused.
“The thing about it hurting virgins. Most modern women have lost their hymen already. So as long as I’m relaxed, and we do a lot of foreplay…” I’m suddenly feeling shy as I say it. He’s standing there with his shirt unbuttoned, looking like sex personified, and I’m spouting medical facts from a women’s health column.
But Joshua’s eyes sharpen on me, as he realizes what I’m saying.
Now, he’s the one coming toward me, backing me into the bed, and I giggle, falling down on the mattress and scrambling backward. It’s like the hottest game of tag I’ve ever played.
“Luckily, I am very good at foreplay,” Joshua says. He crawls over me, and suddenly I’m surrounded by him. Caged in by his scent, by his strength, by his heat, by his safety. My heart is going a mile a minute, and I’m so wet for him. Oh God, screw foreplay. This whole month has been foreplay, and I don’t care if it hurts, I want him in me now. I reach down for his zipper, but he catches my hand.
“Ah ah ah! Foreplay first,” Joshua says, lacing our fingers together, and pinning my wandering hand to the pillow above my head.
“Josh,” I whine.
“You’re the one who said–”
I arch up into him, and he loses focus, but only temporarily. He grabs my other hand and pins it to the sheets too.
God, he’s strong.
“Here’s the plan,” Joshua says. “In…” he glances at the clock on the bedside table “... one hour, I’m going to be in you, and you’re going to be screaming my name.”
“If I don’t lose interest before then,” I mutter, and he gives me a glare that sends a thrill down my spine.
“But,” he continues meaningfully, “the way we get there is if you let me get you really fucking horny and very relaxed. So please stop trying to unzip my pants and let me make love to you.”
“I’m already horny,” I say, frustrated, and he laughs. I can feel the motion of his stomach against mine.
It’s funny. I’ve thought about sex a lot. But I’ve never imagined what it would be like to feel his laugh against my skin, or the way it would make my heart feel lovely and tight all at the same time.
“I can tell,” Joshua says wryly, and I glare at him, which for some reason makes him kiss me. For a few minutes, we lose track of the world together.
“You trusted me enough to tell me what your body needs, Sienna,” Joshua says. “Now trust me enough to give it to you.”
I search his face. Joshua watches me, his brown eyes warm and patient and only occasionally disturbed by sharp flickers of lust.
It’s Joshua. Of course I trust him.
I nod slowly, relaxing into the bed.
Joshua eyes me for a minute to make sure I’ve really given in. Then he lowers his head and kisses me, so soft and gentle you’d think it was our first kiss. My instinct is to push him for more, because I know he’ll give it, and God, I want it. But his lips are drugging me, and I let myself soften.
As if that softening is what he’s been waiting for, Joshua releases my hands. He trails his own down my sides and up my shirt. I’m trying to relax, I really am, but I arc under his hands as they climb higher.
“Shhh,” Joshua murmurs into my ear. “Relax.”
“I’m trying!”
He props himself up on one elbow and looks down at me, eyebrow arched.
“I am!” I groan and flop back into the pillow. “But as previously established, I really want you in me, so I’m probably not going to be relaxed until I come, but you want to foreplay, so foreplay away. Here, I’ll help.”
I strip off my blouse and toss it across the room.
When I turn back, Joshua is eyeing me like a starving man. His gaze is a caress, and I shiver under it, feeling deliciously exposed.
But it’s almost too much. Like he’s pressing on a nerve. “What are you doing?” I blurt.
“Getting inspired,” His eyes dance with wicked intent. “Take your pants off.”
I hesitate, “What do you mean inspired?”
“You said you can relax after you come. So, step one…”
Slowly, I take my pants off, my heart pounding. I’m not trying to take my time, but there’s this spellbound quality between us, like I’m swimming through honey.
Joshua catches my lips, pressing me down into the sheets. He’s still wearing his pants, and the slide of his jeans against of my bare legs is erotic. I have a flashing thought that it’s a metaphor for our whole relationship — him protected, me exposed — but I shove it away and concentrate on what feels good.
Which is pretty much everything. His warmth and scent and his weight. All of it certain, all of it anchoring me. His taste.
God, his taste.
But he’s pulling away from my mouth. His lips work down my neck, flirting along the edge of my bra. I bury my hands in his hair, urging him on.
His hands are behind me, unhooking my bra, and it could be my imagination, but I think his hands are shaking.
I’m making Joshua tremble, and it thrills me.
He gets my bra off, and I’m half expecting another savoring-the-sight moment, but he’s already feasting. When he sucks my nipple, my breath breaks.
Joshua sucks and pinches and bites and kisses until I’m the one trembling.
“How am I doing? Are you there yet?” he says.
“Almost,” I say, trying to guide him back where I want him, but he slips from my grasp and works his way down.
Oh.
Oh.
He kisses me through my panties, and I have a moment of hoping I wore something cute today, before he slides my underwear down, and begins the process of figuring out how I like to be touched, licked, kissed.
I’ll say this for Joshua King: he’s a fast learner.
When he finally slides his fingers inside me, I don’t think I can stand it.
“Josh, I – oh. Oh—” I gasp.
“It’s ok, Sienna. I’ve got you.”
I come on a roiling wave of intense pleasure that leaves me shaking.
Shaking and then … calm.
“Ok, I see your point,” I say.
“I had a point?” he looks up at me, his eyes dark and unfocused. His mouth is wet with my cream. The sight is so hot, I clench around his fingers still inside of me, and he shivers.
I am so ready to have this man.
“Come up here,” I say, and he’s halfway up, like my voice is a drug he can’t get enough of, before he catches sight of the clock.
“No,” he says, sitting up, rocking back on his heels. “An hour.”
I pout.
He tries to look stern.
I try a new tactic. I trace my fingers idly over my breasts, then cup and lift them for his perusal.
He doesn’t look stern anymore. He looks hungry.
This time it’s my turn to look my fill, and it’s all I can do not to moan when my eyes settle on his crotch.
“Can I?” I ask, half reaching for him.
“You’re supposed to be relaxing,” he murmurs. But he lets me unzip his pants and pull his cock out.
Hell. He’s hard and warm and gorgeous. “I find this incredibly relaxing,” I say.
“I don’t,” Joshua grits out.
I give him an experimental squeeze, and he groans.
I lean down to kiss him there, but before I know it I’m flat on my back, my hands fiercely pinned above my head.
“Hey,” I whine.
“If you… I can’t… I’ll lose control,�
� he shakes his head, as if trying to shake off an unspeakable failure.
“That might be my new fantasy,” I purr. “You losing control.”
“Please. For my sanity. Stop talking,” he kisses me to shut me up. I’d be indignant, if his lips were just a smidge less heavenly.
He shifts his grip so he’s cuffing me with one hand, while his other wanders down to my clit. I mean to break free, I really do, but his hands on me feel so good, and before I know it I’m coming again.
As I’m coming down to earth, I roll to my side, and shove the clock away so Joshua can’t check it again.
“There. It’s been an hour.”
“Sienna!”
“Do you really want to fight me on this, Joshua?”
He closes his eyes briefly, “No. No, I really don’t.” He shucks his pants and underwear — black boxer briefs, for anyone wondering — and grabs a condom from his wallet.
Joshua starts to climb on top, then remembers what I said on the beach and rolls so that I’m on top, setting our pace.
He’s so careful as I take him into me, doing his best not to move before I’m ready, that I almost cry. Joshua keeps asking if I’m ok, then checking my face to see if I’m telling the truth when I say I am.
And the thing is, I am. He’s so big inside me, but he’s gentle, and I can’t help but settle into the feeling of it all.
Trusting him to give me what I need.
I rock a little, shifting my hips, and Joshua bucks up into me.
I grab his shoulders to keep from falling, every nerve I have catching delicious fire.
“Sorry,” Joshua bites out. “Lost control. Won’t happen again.”
He frowns up at the ceiling. His lips move.
“Joshua. Are you doing math?”
“I’m going to give you what you need. I swear. It’s just you feel really good. Like so fucking good. And I can’t think straight, I can’t breath, I just want to—” he breathes heavily, like he’s reeling himself in. “So yes, I am making use of the quadratic formula.”
I laugh, and groan, then stroke a hand through his hair, feeling a well of frustrated tenderness. He’s trying so hard. And he’s such an idiot.