by Shey Stahl
He pulls away, yanking my mouth off him. “That’s enough.”
Wiping my mouth, I look up at him, my breathing becoming heavier. Crap. What happens next?
He reaches over to his nightstand for a condom and immediately sheathes himself in one. There’s certainly no hesitation on his part, is there?
My heart is pounding so hard I think he can hear it. With a hand on my chest, he pushes me back against the mattress, then spreads my legs. He’s in position and it’s now that I realize there’s no going back.
“Tell me you’re sure.” He waits for me to tell him no again. This is usually when I stop him.
I giggle lightly. “You act as if I’m jumping off a cliff.”
“You kinda are. There’s no going back once I have you.”
“I want you,” I assure him. “But um, be gentle.”
He laughs. “I can’t guarantee ya anything.” It’s his tone I notice that’s different. It’s low and anxious. Wary even. His eyes search mine, looking for something. Maybe an emotion he’s afraid he’s going to find.
My heart pounds a million miles an hour. I bite my lips and then venture to add, “What about what you promised?”
His brow furrows, his eyes guarded. “What?”
“Where you. . . uh, you know, the part where you said you’d tell me you loved me.”
His jaw tenses, his eyes narrow on me, then he blinks slowly. I notice his breathing increases and then he swallows as though he’s unsure what to do next. Get this. . . he says nothing. And I can’t tell if it’s that he wants to, or that he does and doesn’t know how to say it.
There are no more words, and just like his fingers inside me, he doesn’t wait to push all the way in, painfully taking my virginity with it and breathlessly telling me, “No sense in easing into it. It’ll hurt less this way.”
And I believe him, because he’s done this so many times.
It’s a lie. It hurts so bad!
The moment he enters me, it’s nothing like I anticipated. It’s more. It’s everything to be touched like this, by him, to have him insides me, the one with sad eyes.
He curses under his breath, his muscles tightening beneath his skin as he halts deep inside of me. “Jesus Christ, you’re so fuckin’ tight.”
I want to say, yeah, dude, virgin here, but I don’t because one, I’m in pain and two, he’s staring at me. I don’t know what he’s thinking. So much is hidden behind his dark eyes. Is he. . . nervous? No, that’s not a nervous look. Conflicted? Confused? Regretful?
I touch the side of his face. “What are you thinking?”
But then he asks me, as if he’s worried, “Are you okay?” His body trembles ever so slightly, never answering my question.
I nod, but it’s a lie. This is scary and crazy and I’m super worried about my vagina, and my heart. This is huge. I’m giving this part of myself to Tiller, and I fear I’ve just lost what little I had left keeping him in my life. He now owns every part of me and what happens next? Am I tossed aside like every other girl?
His movements are slower than I would expect them to be and for me, it’s painful and unfortunately, detached. The emotions in his eyes contradict his actions and despite him being inside me, taking my virginity, I have the physical side of him, but I don’t have his heart.
With every movement, I’m reminded of how much it hurts. Maybe that’s why I had waited so long. I’ve never been one for pain and I don’t feel pleasure yet. It’s a good thing he was nice enough to get me off before this because the pain’s so bad I don’t think I can relax enough to actually enjoy it.
Tiller’s held up by his arms. There’s distance between our bodies as he moves in and out of me, but it’s not enough. I don’t want any space between us. Not while I’m giving him the one thing I’ve held onto for so long when it comes to him. “Come closer.”
He looks concerned and he blinks. Twice. “Why?”
“It hurts. Be a gentleman and cuddle me.”
His eyebrow raises. “Do I look like I cuddle?”
“Not particularly, but can you at least try?”
I watch his face, but he gives nothing away as he lowers himself on top of me.
My arms wrap around his tense back as I cling to his body. He doesn’t move, his warm breath panting against the side of my neck. I think about all the women he’s been with. I hate that I do. I even think about Ava in that moment.
“Give me something you don’t give them,” I whisper, knowing he’ll understand what I mean.
His jaw tightens. “I am.” I don’t know what he means, and I’m not entirely sure he does either.
Swallowing, he lowers his chest to mine. Bracing his hands above me on the headboard, he moves again.
He thrusts come hard, moving me up the bed until my head hits his headboard. It thumps against the wall, and when he notices, he places his hand over the top of my head protecting it. It’s probably the nicest thing he’s done for me.
I’ve read enough romance novels, apparently not ones with guys like Tiller as the hero, but in all of them, there’s romance and candles as they slowly make love. Not me. While I have the candles, I also get Tiller Sawyer fucking me on ninja turtle sheets as my head pile drives the headboard. It’s perfect in the most unconventional way.
He’s relentless and I’m desperate to make this last. I cherish every minute, every touch, every movement of the way his body feels against mine and the closeness he provides me.
My first real pleasure comes when he bites my neck, teeth scraping the tender flesh in a painful nibble.
Clinging to him with everything I have, I never want this to end, despite the pain.
His breathing is harsh, quick gasps of air through a tight jaw. “Fuck. Your pussy’s so tight.”
Believe it or not, I do start to feel pleasure. It’s when he’s kissing me that I finally relax enough to enjoy it. My orgasm comes eventually, with his persistence and determination to drag this out with every angle of his hips against mine. It courses through me, my body tensing underneath him, my heels gripping him tightly and my arms tightening around his neck. In the midst of my orgasm, I pull him closer, the movement doing nothing to slow him down, drawing out the blissful high with every pump of his muscular hips.
With a grunt, he drives into me, unrelenting, unapologetic in every way. Everything about Tiller screams aggressive and his love making is no different. His touches, hard and aggressive, each one sends a jolt of arousal through me, confirming who he is.
His mouth finds mine and suddenly it’s like he can’t get enough of me, and his movements pick up. His hands move from the headboard to my bottom, driving himself deeper. It’s not exactly pleasant; it’s sort of painful, but I don’t say anything to stop him.
Parting his mouth from mine, he drops his lips to my shoulder, panting and grunting with each hard thrust inside of me. Then he stills, his body jerking, tensing, shaking as he releases inside of me. Pumping into me a few more times, he groans and collapses his weight against me.
It’s only seconds later, still trying to catch his breath, he lifts his head, his hair falling into his eyes as they penetrate mine. Silence lingers between us, the tension creeping in. He looks different. Sweet? No. . . maybe vulnerable? Does he look different to you? He reminds me of when he was younger before the emptiness inside defined him.
He doesn’t say anything before shifting his weight off me. Removing the condom, he tosses it in a trash can next to the bed and reaches over for a cigarette on his nightstand. Watching him, it’s then my thoughts catch up with me. My cheeks blush. I just lost my virginity. Now I feel like I look different. Will he see me differently?
Hearing the flick of his lighter, then the inhale, I smile and look down at the sheets pooled around my waist. “Why do you have ninja turtle sheets?”
He smirks, taking a long pull of his cigarette. “Because they’re cool.” He exhales the cloud of smoke, obviously not caring what anyone would think about them.
; I lie next to him, unsure what to do next. Every other time we’ve been together like this, we’ve been drunk and one of us passes out, or leaves. Now it’s different. I let him in. Literally.
He wraps his arm around my shoulder and draws me into him. He’s warm, his heart still beating rapidly. I also don’t miss the way his hands are shaking.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, and then regret it because what if he regrets what we just did?
He’s quiet for a moment, lost in thoughts he’s not sharing, staring up at the ceiling while his smoke circles around us. “Nothin’.”
“I can uh. . . sleep in the room with River.” I have no idea how this works. “If that’s what you want.”
Don’t tell me to go. Love me.
“I want you to stay.”
My heart pounds. He shifts, leaning forward to put his cigarette out. When he returns, his body curls around me. He’s snuggling. With me. While I may not have had the attachment I wanted, he gave me what he could. This guy, my anxious hardened guy, he really did give me everything he could.
Neither one of us say anything for a few minutes, me being paranoid and he’s calm in the storm and anxious in the quiet. When I shift closer, his lips meet my skin and I am on fire, burning to the beat of his heart and shaky breath over my skin. Lazy eyes watch me, captured by my every move as I lie against his chest.
He lets me get as close as I want.
Did you forget we had candles going?
We did. Guess what’s on fire now?
Tiller’s curtains. Don’t worry, it’s put out fairly quickly, but still, it ends in the two of us laughing on the floor, smoke filling his room until he opens the doors leading out to the balcony overlooking the motocross track. It’s then he pulls me close, an act of tenderness I didn’t get during the sex.
We’re naked, still, and with my hands on his shoulders, his body tenses. “Do you regret it?”
I rest my head on his chest. “No.” I want to love him in all the ways I’m afraid to love him, in all the ways I believe I don’t deserve.
I’m not sure what to make of last night. What about you? I know what you’re thinking, could you have been anymore detached? About that. I was nervous. That’s the only answer I can give you because even I didn’t understand the nerves. Maybe because I’ve known this girl since I was five years old and every time we came close to finally doing it, she’d put the brakes on and I’d be left hanging. But this time, for God knows what reason, she didn’t and finally let me have her.
Me. The fuck up. She wanted the deranged motherfucker who begged to make her pussy bleed and then when I finally do, I didn’t know how to act. The fact that I’m the only man to ever experience her tight pussy, it makes me hard as fuck, even now.
Would it be wrong to wake her up and ask for more?
Probably.
Do you see her there? Curled against my pillow she stole from me?
She spent the night. In my bed. Are you surprised? Shit yeah you are.
Her naked body’s draped across my chest and while I don’t have rules about this kind of thing—because I’m no good at following them—I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do next.
Southern California sun filters through the black curtains, sparking light in my room. I stare at the ceiling, trying to remember if we’re out of Captain Crunch or not. If Camden ate the last of it, I’m going to nut punch that fucker.
Not that I’m surprised last night happened or that she’s still in my bed, yet I’m uncomfortable. You can’t share a twin bed, which is partially why I still have a twin bed in my twenties. If the chick’s uncomfortable, she won’t want to stay the night. Tell me that’s not smart.
But. . . here’s the heavy shit. Brace yourself. I was not expecting to want her to stay. There. I said it.
Amberly Johnson has and always will be an addiction for me, worse than cocaine, and I’ve fought this need for so long, it’s hard to understand my feelings now.
Carefully, I shift out from under her, the scent of her fading from my skin as I pull on my shorts from the night before.
I quietly sneak out and downstairs to the kitchen. Shade and Scarlet are in there with Camden. When they notice me, their attention shifts, their eyes burning into my back as I grab the coffee pot and a cup from the cupboard.
“Crazy night, Wild Cat?” Shade asks, sounding obnoxiously cheerful.
I ignore the question and pour myself a cup of coffee.
“Did you have a nice evening?” Scarlet asks next.
“That’s none of your fuckin’ business.” When I turn to face them, I find Scarlet’s gaze on me, grinning, and guess who’s on her hip?
If you said River, then you’d be right. I really need to watch myself around her. Pretty soon she’s going to start cussing like me. When I’m next to her, River lunges for me like a monkey. I catch her, thankfully. “Why they call you Wild Cat? Your name Tiller.”
“It’s a nickname.”
Her brow furrows, her eyes on my tattoos she’s fascinated by. “I want a nut name.”
I laugh and set her on the counter. “You mean nickname?”
“Yeah.”
“Well they’re earned. We’ll have to think of one.”
Camden appears, naturally eating cereal and sits next to us. “I have one. Mine’s Cam-Man.”
River brow furrows even more. Laughing lightly, I sit beside her. “Hungry?”
She nods. “Where’s the cereal?”
Roan walks in, with Ophelia behind him. This time I don’t say anything. Ophelia looks at me, then River. “Um, who’s that?”
“I’m Raptor,” River says proudly.
Did you burst out laughing? I did. So did everyone else in the room. About the time Amberly comes downstairs wearing one of my T-shirts, Ophelia looks to Roan. “Is her name really Raptor?”
He nods, retrieving the milk and eggs from the fridge and a loaf of bread off the counter. “Yep.” He glances at River. “How about some French toast, Raptor.”
Her eyes light up. “Yup!”
Now take a look at Amberly when she approaches me from behind. I can’t see her face yet, but I can feel her behind me. I don’t know what to say to her and I think she feels the same way. Something’s changed between us. Not only physically, but emotionally. We’re in many ways, playing house, but what does it mean? How long before I fuck it up because you know damn well I’m going to.
I turn to face her. Do you notice the way she looks around the room at everyone but me? She’s nervously assessing the situation and how I’m going to react now that I’ve fucked her. Even I don’t know how I’m going to react, but if you heard the way my heart thumped louder the moment her presence in the room is known, you know she’s mine.
I want to say something, but just like last night, my voice stalls, chokes on words I’m not sure I can say to her. Ones that hold meaning and security she deserves. Ones I’m not sure I know the true meaning behind.
“Sleep good?” I finally ask, twisting toward the coffee pot to pour her a cup of coffee.
She nods, her smile breaking through. Handing her the coffee, I wrap my arm around her shoulder. “Ready for round two?”
Her cheeks heat but she doesn’t say anything; she doesn’t need to. I can tell by the underlying hunger in her eyes she enjoyed last night.
Roan makes French toast. Amberly and River eat, as do most of the others but me, my stomach’s in knots. I drink my coffee instead. I can’t tell you why, but maybe it has to do with her, River, the fact that I haven’t touched drugs in weeks and have that feeling deep inside my gut this is all going to end badly.
After breakfast, Camden’s playing video games and River’s sitting next to him. Amberly places her hand on my shoulder. We’re alone, aside from the kids.
I tense. Not because the touch isn’t wanted, but because it’s needed. I twist, drawing her between my legs. The inner part of my thighs meet the outside of hers, trapping her. I want to fuck her, again, over and over agai
n.
I pull her against me, my intentions clear. I search her eyes waiting for her reaction. Only she gives nothing away. “Do you feel me?”
Her brow furrows. “What?”
“Do. You. Feel. Me?”
She sighs. “Like your touch? I don’t understand what you’re talking about.” Her eyes drop to between us. “Are you talking about your penis? Are you like hard?”
Do you sense the nervousness in her voice? It’s almost entertaining the way she says penis. Now it’s my turn to sigh though. I grip her tighter. “It’s cock, honey. Not a penis. It’s a fucking cock and it was deep inside your wet pussy last night.” I lean in, my harsh breath blowing over her face. “Every movement you make today you’re gonna be reminded that I was there, inside you. Marking you as mine from the inside.”
She doesn’t take me seriously, giggles and tries to wriggle out of my grasp. “There’s something wrong with you.”
“River’s busy,” I mumble, kissing the side of her neck. “Let’s go upstairs.” My hands move lower, from her hips to the swell of her ass. Underneath my T-shirt, she’s wearing a pair of my shorts, folded down to fit her.
“We can’t,” she says, just as breathless. “You have to go get that DNA test done today and I really need to take River back to the apartment.”
“Come with me and I’ll go to the apartment with you.”
She considers it, then smiles, setting the coffee cup she had in her hands down. “You’d want to do that?” Her hands move to my chest, up and over my shoulders to wrap around my neck. If you looked us here, in the kitchen, you’d think we were a couple, wouldn’t you? In some ways, we are, we’ve always been since that day with the flower. In other ways, we’re still worlds apart.
Time slows and becomes meaningless, and I’m trapped in her eyes. She doesn’t say anything, just looks at me. I want in this moment forever. I ruin the moment by being crass as usual. “Not really, but I will if it means later you’ll let me fuck you again.”
Playfully, she slaps at my chest. “Is that all you think about?”