by Cheryl Yeko
Yes, let's. If he wasn't inside her soon, she wasn't going to survive.
Clothes flew and less than a minute later she was naked and under him as he began an exploration of her body with his hands and mouth. She clutched his shoulders.
"Beautiful," he said reverently, cupping one breast. Leaning down, he flicked her sensitive nipple with his tongue. "You taste like spun sugar, and before the nights over I’m going to eat you up."
His words sent her desire spiraling higher at the images they invoked. Her body tight with desire, she managed to gasp out, "Promises, promises."
Stan chuckled, tweaking her nipple. "What? Don't believe me?"
He slowly lowered his head to kiss her. A surprisingly gentle kiss that promised her an unforgettable night of passion, and maybe something more.
Something she didn't want to think about. Couldn't trust. Didn't dare believe in again. He'd betrayed her once already. A sense of panic flared inside her, as the barriers she'd erected around her heart took a hit.
As if sensing her distress, he broke the kiss. "Trust me, Shelly."
He kissed her again, and unlike before this kiss wasn't gentle or kind. It was powerful, demanding, a kiss with a definite stamp of ownership, and it thrilled her.
She shoved her fears aside.
For tonight, she'd allow herself to bask in the arms of this man for everything it was worth. Greedily take what Stan was offering her.
Tomorrow, I'll worry about building my walls back up.
That was her last coherent thought as Stan slid down her body with butterfly kisses, until his mouth covered her core, and as promised, he made her scream.
Flicking his tongue around the velvet bud between her legs, Stan kept two fingers moving inside Shelly as her orgasm crested. The sound of her calling out his name in pleasure filled him with a great deal of satisfaction. A sound he planned on hearing again before the night was over. Many more times.
If it took sex to get her to allow him back in her life, so be it. He'd use whatever tools necessary to get what he wanted.
Her.
He'd felt her hesitation before, and it'd pissed him off. It was his own damned fault she had doubts about their relationship, and he'd been more angry with himself than her.
Somehow, he had to convince her to forgive him. He wanted to see if the promise of forever that burned between them was real. Knowing they could have something special, if she'd only give them a chance.
It wasn't until the last tiny flutter from her internal muscles faded away that he lifted his head and met her sated stare. His cock throbbed with the need to be inside her, to feel her body cradling him as he made love to her.
Reaching for his discarded jeans, Stan retrieved a condom from his wallet and rolled it on. Crawling up her body, she parted her legs and allowed him inside her silken heat. A hiss of satisfaction fell from his lips as he sank deep.
Framing her face with his hands, he stared down at her loveliness, then kissed her tenderly as he rocked gently between her legs. Now that he was inside her, a calmness settled over him. Perfectly content to hold her while he fucked her slowly, building her pleasure while pushing back his own.
Tonight was about Shelly, and he wanted her to come at least half a dozen times before it was over. Maybe more. Yeah. Definitely more . . .
"How you doing?" Stan caressed her face, loving the feel of her velvety soft skin under his palm.
She clasped her slender legs around his thighs, slipping her arms around his neck. "Mmm. Never better." She lifted her hips to meet his rocking thrusts, never breaking eye contact with him.
A sense of completeness filled him.
Shelly was wet and warm and lush, and Stan felt like he'd finally come home. He couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from hers. Smiling down at her, he grasped her hip and tugged her closer as he delved deeper, picking up his rhythm slightly as her body clutched him tighter.
They remained like that for a long time, lazily making love. No words were necessary, only soft caresses and tender kisses.
Stan could read every emotion on her expressive face, guiding his way as he learned her body. What she liked and what she loved. What made her purr and what made her pant.
And along with desire, he also read affection in her eyes, and even though she wouldn’t admit it right now, possibly even love.
Warmth rushed through him at the thought, his cock pulsing with the urgency to pump faster. He gritted his teeth and managed to fight it back, keeping the same slow tempo. She'd let him know when she was ready for more.
Running the fingers of one hand across the nape of his neck, she played with the ends of his hair, smiling up at him. "I could stay like this forever."
Stan felt sweat sliding down his back, hoping she was kidding. "Not sure I can hold out for forever, baby."
Her face lit with amusement. "Then don't," she teased, shifting her body to take him deeper still.
Hallelujah.
Finally giving himself permission, Stan kissed her. Reaching to where they were joined, he thrummed her clit. At the sound of her throaty moan he let himself go, picking up the pace of his thrusts as her silken channel tightened around him, the tiny spasms of her impending release running along his cock.
A sexy as hell moan fell from sweet lips he never wanted to stop kissing.
Sweat broke out on his forehead as he fought to contain his own release, her body clutching him like a warm fist. Desperately working the bundle of nerves at her center, he thrust into her, over and over, watching as pleasure crossed her face, filled her gaze.
Arching into him, she closed her eyes, her fingers digging into his back as her body trembled.
"That's it, Shelly," Stan gritted out, pulling back to drive into her again. "So good, baby."
Palming her breast, he ran his tongue around the taut peak before sucking gently on the tip, then harder as she writhed beneath him. Moving his mouth to the other breast, he gave it the same thorough attention, loving her responsiveness.
He lost track of how long he played with her that way, kneading, sucking, and nipping as her moans turned to cries of pleasure.
Having the best sex of his life, Stan slammed his mouth over Shelly's in a hard, hungry kiss that she returned in equal measure. The tiny flutters along her channel indicated her impending release.
Wanting them to fall over the edge together, Stan increased his rhythm, clutching her hips to hold her still as she arched up to take all of him.
Tearing her mouth away from his, she cried out his name as he thrust deeper, faster, burying his face into her neck as she clawed at his back. With one final plunge into her pulsating core, his release crested, then crashed over him at the same time her orgasm overtook her.
That was Stan's last thought for long moments as he clutched Shelly's hips and came longer and harder than ever before, until his body was drained and he crashed down on her, barely having the sense to rest on his elbows so he didn't crush her completely.
They remained that way for several minutes, the only sound in the room their heavy breathing, as his heart rate slowed to normal.
Finally, at the sound of Shelly's playful giggle, he managed to lift his head to smile down at her. "What's so funny?"
She brought one hand up to play with his hair, smiling dreamily up at him, as if he were her entire world, and he liked the look. Wanted to make sure he saw that same satisfied expression on her lovely face, again and again.
"I was thinking of all the time we've wasted, when we could have been doing this every night."
He cocked a brow as a smile formed on his lips. "Every night, huh? I like the sound of that." And so did his body, his cock swelling inside her already. "Give me a second to change condoms, darlin', and we can make up for lost time."
Chapter Eight
Shelly cracked an eyelid, then squeezed it shut again as sunlight flooded into the room from the open drapes overlooking the hotel parking lot. She'd fallen asleep after her last amazing orgasm,
with Stan still buried inside her. He must have rolled them over because she was now cradled in his arms, lying half on top of him.
Memories of the night washed over her, and her belly fluttered remembering how he'd made love to her throughout the night. As though he'd been starving for her and couldn't get enough.
"Mornin'," he murmured, tightening his arms around her.
She met his sleepy gaze. "Good morning."
"Sleep well?"
She nodded. It'd been a fabulous night. Her mind and heart swirled with the possibility of having a relationship with Stan, yet old insecurities told her this couldn't be real. He couldn't be real.
She shifted slightly, sore muscles reminding her exactly how long it'd been since she'd enjoyed the touch of a man, and yet none had given her the pleasure Stan had shown her. No, they'd only taken what she'd so freely offered. She'd been foolish enough to think they were interested in her, as a person and not just a warm body in their bed.
Needy, God, I was so needy. The thought shamed her, and she looked away. I'll never be that weak girl again, she promised herself.
She bit her bottom lip, attempting to pull her emotions together.
"Hey." Stan tipped her face up to meet his gaze. His brows dipped in concern. "Last night meant something to me, Shelly, and I hope you'll let me back into your life." He placed his hand over her chest. "Your heart." He reached up and stroked her cheek. "Please, darlin’, I'm beggin' here, don't shut me out."
Could she trust him? Her heart said yes, but her head still put up a struggle.
There was always a chance he wouldn’t want her when he found out she couldn't even remember Maggie’s father. Maybe I should tell him and find out how strong his feelings for me really are. Fear rushed through her at the thought of losing him again, and she blinked back tears. If they were to have a chance, he should know about her past.
"Fuck," he gritted out, and her eyes widened because Stan hardly ever swore. "I'm so sorry. Whatever it is, I’m sorry. Please don't cry."
Caressing her face, he kissed each of her brows, then her cheeks, her nose, all the while murmuring promises to never hurt her again and apologizing for being such a jerk. "You're the only woman for me, Shelly. The only one I want. Let me prove it to you."
He pressed his mouth to hers again in a long, lingering kiss, one that felt real. Like a promise, and Shelly found herself relaxing, her chest filling with hope. The feel of his hard, naked body pressed against hers, his erection swelling against her thigh, sent desire rushing through her again.
Tell him now, before things go any further.
Breaking the kiss, Shelly turned her head slightly. "Stan," she managed to gasp out, “we need to talk."
He studied her, eyes filled with worry. “Okay." He shifted onto his back, so she was lying against his side, her head nestled on his chest. He stroked her hair. "What is it?"
Shelly didn't miss the thread of nervousness running through his voice. Her tension eased a little at the realization Stan was afraid she'd reject him. Gathering her courage, she rubbed his chest. "There are some things about me I think you should know, before we take this relationship any deeper."
"There's nothing—”
“Don't say anything.” She placed her finger across his lips, meeting his surprised gaze. "Shh. Let me say this, before I chicken out."
His eyes told her there was nothing she could say that'd change his mind about her, but he nodded. She lowered her hand to his chest again and tucked her head under his chin, not wanting to look at him as she told her story. Not wanting to see his eyes fill with disgust as she took a tumble off that pedestal he'd set her on.
"My parents were killed in a car accident when I was eleven."
He hugged her, dropping a kiss to the top of her head.
"I had no relatives, not close ones anyway, and no one wanted to take me in."
Stan cursed under his breath, loud enough for her to hear. She almost smiled, since she'd heard him swear more in the last half hour, then the entire time they’d dated.
"I went into the system, and they sent me to an orphanage." She twirled the light hairs on his chest. "I learned very early in life that men desired me."
His body tensed. "What happened?" he asked quietly, anger evident in his tone.
She patted his chest in an attempt to calm him. "Nothing—nothing really bad anyway."
In the next instant, Stan reversed their positions, and she found herself on her back with him leaning into her side. Cupping her face, he glared down at her. His anger wasn't directed at her, but for her, and the rest of her anxiety fell away as she finally allowed herself to believe that this wonderful man truly cared.
"Define 'really bad,’" he growled. The sexy line of his jaw flexed with tension.
She tenderly ran her fingers down that same strong jawline, staring into his beautiful silver-gray eyes, teeming with emotion. "Eventually, they placed me with a couple who had a teenage son. Right away, he followed me around, making me feel uncomfortable. Sometimes he'd corner me when no adults were nearby and try to kiss me."
When Stan opened his mouth to speak, she held up a hand. "Let me finish."
He nodded grimly, then sat up, scooping her with him as he inched up to rest his back against the headboard, placing her across his lap. He tugged the sheet up around them and rested his chin on the top of her head as he held her close.
Shelly sighed, clasping both his arms, wrapped around her so protectively, snuggling in close.
"This went on like that for almost two years, until he started getting angry at my rejections. One night I woke up with him on top of me and his hand covering my mouth as he felt me up. His parents heard us struggling and rushed into the room. Of course they blamed me for teasing him, and I was sent back to the orphanage."
"Thank God," Stan muttered.
"Yeah," she agreed. "I was a teenager by then and no one wanted to adopt a sullen teenage girl." She laughed. "Well, not anyone the orphanage would agree to, anyway. Especially after what had happened."
"So you told them?"
"Yes. For what it was worth. No one seemed to think it was a big deal."
"You grew up there?"
"Yep. It really wasn't a bad place, for the most part. The caretakers did their best to see to our needs.” She sighed. “It was tough, since there was little parental supervision. The way boys gravitated toward me only confirmed my warped sense of self." Shelly shifted uncomfortably, preparing to share the worst of it. "By the time I turned fourteen, I was pretty wild. Partying, drinking and drugs. I thought the way to get a boy's affection would be to sleep with him."
Shelly tensed, waiting for Stan's disapproval. None came. He kissed the top of her head, giving her the courage to continue. "I lost my virginity by the time I was fifteen at a drunken party. After that I searched for the love I desperately craved by sleeping around. Each time I slept with someone I thought he'd fall head-over-heels in love with me.”
Shame filled her voice. "Of course it never happened. But that didn't stop me from trying."
"Hey," Stan said gently, stroking her hair. "We all cope with life stresses in our own ways." Only then did she realize she was shaking as Stan attempted to calm her. "Being a wild-child as a teenager isn't something new. All teenagers have issues, and you had more reason than most."
His calm tone settled her, and she finally glanced up to meet his gaze. "There's more."
He nodded, not a flicker of disapproval showing on his face. "Go on, darlin’. I'm listening."
"On my eighteenth birthday, I left the orphanage. I was already working as a waitress, so I found a roommate and moved out. I felt liberated, and vowed to get my life together. I decided to go to college for nursing and began to take night classes. I backed off from the party scene for over six months. Concentrated on studying. Then one day my roommate invited me to a party at her brother’s."
She paused as her mind went back to that night, still not sure exactly what happened.
>
"You okay?" Stan brushed a finger across her cheek.
Focusing her attention back on him, she nodded. "After my first drink, I don't remember much of anything about that night."
She swallowed hard, then forced out the rest of the story. "Three weeks later I found out I was pregnant."
Stan's mind sharpened at Shelly's words. "What do you remember?”
He stroked her hair, then tucked her head back under his chin, hoping to keep her relaxed so she'd continue to confide in him. "After you entered the party and had a drink, what happened?"
His muscles tensed at the sound of her drawn-out sigh, filled with sadness and resignation. Yeah, he was pretty sure he knew what'd happened to her, and it took all his control not to let his anger show, not wanting her to shut down until she'd told him everything.
Then I'm going to hunt down any son-of-a-bitch who touched her and kick the shit out of ‘em.
"Nothing. That's the problem. After that first drink, the next thing I remember is waking up the next morning, alone in one of the upstairs bedrooms." A shudder rolled over her. "I was completely naked, my clothes scattered across the floor."
Anger coiled inside him, knowing her drink had obviously been roofied. He couldn’t contain the curse that fell from his mouth as all sorts of ugly possibilities ran through his mind.
"Yeah," Shelly agreed, glancing away. "So either I got so drunk I blacked out, or I was drugged." She shrugged. "Whatever happened, it was my fault for putting myself in that position."
"Bullshit," Stan muttered angrily. "You were raped, how in the hell is that your fault?" Still not meeting his gaze, she shifted away from him. He tightened his hold and brought her back against his chest. "Shelly, you have to know it wasn't your fault."
There was a long pause, before she answered, finally looking at him. "Logically I know you're right.” She raked the fingers of one hand through her hair. “There's a part of me that says I got what I deserved for living that lifestyle."