by L. R. Olson
He lowers his head and presses his warm mouth to the top of my right breast. Even though I know where he’s going, when his lips cover my nipple I gasp from surprise. His tongue wraps around the hardened bud, before sucking it in between his teeth. Shivers, hot and cold, race up and down my body in a never-ending wave of delight. This, I realize, is what it’s all about.
“Oh dear god,” I mutter.
Desperate, I slide my fingers through his wet hair and grip the strands tightly. Probably too tightly, but he doesn’t complain. He’s all youth and mountains of muscle, while I’m all soft valleys and hills. I’m a novice, working on instinct, while it’s obvious he’s done this before.
His mouth moves back up my neck, and finally to my lips. I’m desperate to touch him. While he cups the sides of my face and kisses me, I reach for the button of his jeans, needing to feel him against my palm. The button pops open. The jeans ride low, hanging on his hips. I have just a moment to see the thin trail of hair that disappears under the waistband of his jeans before he scoops me up.
“Not here.”
His gaze has darkened into a deep, deep blue. I’m falling, sinking into him. I know this is right. This is who I’m supposed to be with. He is the man for me. For now. “Room on the left.”
As he carries me into the bedroom, I nuzzle my face against his neck and lick the spot where I see his pulse beating. He groans. A shiver of anticipation races through me. His scent swirls in the air, comforting and intoxicating. I’m dizzy, but this time it has nothing to do with my medication or my illness.
He lays me gently upon the bed, and reaches for my sweatpants. “Harry Potter fan?”
I flush. “They’re comfortable.”
He grins that lop-sided smile. “You’re adorable.”
Damn it all, why did I decide to dress down today, of all days? He pulls my sweats slowly down my legs. “No. Kittens are adorable.”
He arches a brow. “Sexy then?”
“Better.”
I’m lying on the bed in only my plain, white cotton underwear, wondering why I didn’t wear my new black, lacey bra, but determined not to cover myself or be embarrassed. My fingers curl into the bedspread. I want him. Need him. But I’m so innocent I might as well be a nun. I’m starting to wonder if I should maybe mention my lack of experience when he reaches for his jeans and I’m lost.
I’ve imagined this…but imagination is nothing like the feel of a warm, muscled body covering you. Nothing like the feel of a heart beating against your chest. The mingling of heated breaths. The breakdown of barriers until you’re left exposed and vulnerable in a way that leaves you raw.
His limbs are long and muscled. There’s a trail of hair that leads down, down, down… I don’t hide my curiosity, like I’m an artist preparing to do a sculpture. My gaze travels over his muscled stomach, to his long, hard erection. Instead of feeling overwhelmed, seeing him naked makes me hot. Bothered. Almost desperate. He is mine. At least for this night. Mine.
My hands curl into the blanket. Blood roars through my veins. Despite my naiveté, despite my vulnerabilities, I want him. He closes my door and then he’s here, leaning over the bed, moving over me like I’m prey.
“I…I don’t…I’m not on the pill.”
He nods. “I’ll take care of it.”
And I know he will. Good. Responsible. Caring Christian.
His biceps and forearms flex as he hovers over me. We don’t touch but I can feel his heat. I try to take in everything at once, but it’s moving too fast, making it difficult to savor the moment. Finally, his hard, warm body presses down on me and I almost sigh with satisfaction. His erection, hot and heavy and silky, throbs against my lower belly. Naturally, my thighs spread wide, my legs wrapping around his. I cling to him, desperate to be as close as possible.
“Do you know when I wanted you?” he whispers, nuzzling the side of my face with his. The day’s growth of whiskers is completely and utterly erotic. His tongue darts out, tracing the shell of my ear. I moan.
“I wanted you when you accosted me outside the castle for following you.” I realize he’s braced himself upon his elbows so he’s not crushing me. “Fierce, unapologetic.”
I laugh breathlessly. “You ran away.”
“I was surprised. Besides, you were American and I figured I’d never see you again.” His lips press against mine, a whisper, a promise. “Thank God I was wrong.”
And then we’re kissing as the full weight of his body presses into me. And it’s heaven on earth. His knee nudges my thighs farther apart, his erection pressing to my core. I’m sleek and wet, and have been so ready for this for so long.
I squeeze my eyes shut, and lift my hips, rubbing my damp folds against his erection as our tongues duel. This man is my addiction. My link to life. I don’t want this to end…ever. I crave this pleasure, need him to feel again. Bring me back to life.
“Do you want me to slow down?” he asks, breathless.
God no.
He brushes the hair from my face, a gentle touch that pulls me from the hazy lust clouding my mind. “Hope, do you want me to slow down?”
“No.” I bite his shoulder. Not hard, just a little to punish him for even asking such a question. With a groan, he rocks against me. His smooth erection slides between my folds, tempting and taunting. Never have I felt as sexy as he makes me feel here, now. My fingers dig into his broad shoulders. I want him inside me. Want to be as close to him as humanly possible.
As we rock, our mouths mold together in a devastating kiss. Branding. Connecting. Breathing in each other. It’s pleasure and pain combined into one excruciating moment of delight. I know I could come without him even entering me. Just a touch. A kiss. Only a few moments more and my body will find that release for which it’s been searching.
“Are you wet for me?” he whispers against my mouth. “Aching?”
A year ago his words would have embarrassed me, but as his hand travels down between us, brushing my stomach, my thigh, before sliding between my legs, I’m anything but embarrassed. And I sure as hell don’t care that I am wet and aching and society says I should be feeling shy and virginal. I just want him to touch me. Please, dear god, let him touch me.
His finger slips between my folds as his tongue wraps around mine. When he presses into me, I nearly cry out in relief. Yes. Yes! This is what I want. I lift my hips in a desperate attempt to take him deeper. But he pulls his finger out, teasing me, then thrusts back inside. It feels as if I’m standing on the beach in the sunlight.
I whimper, my nails biting into his back. I’d gotten this far with Matt…before we’d stopped dating. But when Matt touched me it had never felt like this. I’d been curious, and a tiny bit afraid, not sure what I wanted. With Christian, I know exactly what I need. There is no fear. Only desire.
He pulls back, his breath harsh and hot against my lips. “You’re so ready.”
“Yes,” I manage.
Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!
He’s off the bed and pulling a condom from the pocket of his jeans, and before I have time to truly think about what’s happening, he’s back, his heavy, hot body stretching out atop me.
“How can this feel so right when we just met?” he says.
His words hit me hard, tearing down the few remaining bricks of my wall. I’m not the only one who feels this connection. His knee nudges between my thighs, spreading my legs. I wrap my arms around his neck, trusting him completely.
How can this feel so natural, so good? How can he feel like mine when I just met him? As if sensing the way of my thoughts, he grasps my right hand and brings it forward, pressing a kiss to my palm. It’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever done. I can no longer control my emotions. A rush of feeling bursts through me all at once, leaving me shaky and confused. It’s just sex, I tell myself. It’s supposed to be just sex.
I feel the tip of his erection enter me. A moment of extreme clarity washes away every other feeling. Shit, this is really happening.
I search his gaze, looking for something, anything. A fine sheen of sweat covers his forehead. His eyes have darkened, his jaw clenched tight. And then I see it…a softness underneath the desire, a sense of familiarity when I shouldn’t know him at all.
In this moment, it’s not just sex. Maybe it never was. The unease fades. My uncertainty vanishes. There’s a connection between us that scares me. That makes me uneasy. A connection I can’t explain. But it’s there. It always has been.
There is no subterfuge, no lying with this man. He’s honest. Clear. Compassionate. I have the oddest feeling that this is supposed to happen. That I’m supposed to be here, in his arms. That the quiet, uncertain longing I’ve had for years, has been for him. He lowers his head, pressing his lips to mine. It’s a soft, gentle kiss. He is mine. I am his.
I want him. All of him. Desperate, I tilt my hips up, rocking into him and taking his cock deeper. With a groan, he surges forward. The pain that rips through me is shocking, although expected. He enters me fully, the hard length of him stretching my tight passage. I have just enough time to catch my breath and adjust, when he pulls out slightly, then surges back in. Deeper. I gasp, partly from pleasure, mostly from pain. I knew it would hurt. But damn.
Deeply inside of me, he pauses. I grit my teeth, my nails biting into his back as I try to lay still. Barely breathe. It’s not pleasant. He feels way too large. Why am I doing this again? Shit, has everyone lied about how great it is? Maybe there’s something wrong with me. Wrong with him. Maybe we’re not doing it right. I shift in unease, concerned. Suddenly, he feels too heavy. His weight isn’t comforting anymore, but confining.
“You alright?” he whispers, pressing his lips to mine.
I can see the concern in his gaze and it warms me, making the pain almost bearable. Do I want to stop? I don’t want to stop. Not yet. There has to be more. There is more, right? Why would women keep doing this if there wasn’t more? Maybe it’s like climbing Mount Everest, it sucks on the way up, but once you reach the top…
“Hope?”
“Yeah,” I say, breathless.
He rests his forehead to mine. “Jylland,” he whispers. “You feel so damn good.”
Wish I could say the same, buddy.
He lowers his head and kisses me again, his tongue thrusting between my lips. It’s a languid, thorough stroke that makes me forget my pain. Something sweet and delicious coils low in my belly. I slide my hands up the back of his neck, my fingers entwining with the thick, cool strands of his hair. As my body melts, the pain eases and I remember why I’m doing this in the first place.
He cups my breasts, his thumbs rubbing the hardened peaks of my nipples. Shivers of delight tip-toe down my spine. Unable to help myself, I arch my back. He shifts ever so slightly, but it’s enough to take him deeper. A moan escapes my lips.
“The pain will stop,” he says softly against my mouth.
But as he kisses my neck, and his hands skim my body, I wonder…what pain? I rock again, reaching for the sensation that lingers in the background…waiting. With a growl, Christian pulls out and thrusts back into me. I gasp, my fingers clawing at his back, trying to bring him closer. This time the pain is almost a vague memory. Something shoved to the back of my mind to make room for the intense bliss I experience.
“You’re going to kill me,” he murmurs.
He kisses me deeply, exploring, as his velvet tongue rubs against mine, as his hips rock slowly against me. It’s a steady pulsing rhythm that seems to mirror the beat of my heart. My fingers travel down his back to grip his hard ass. The pleasure is torture. But a torture I welcome. I try to memorize every detail, knowing I will go over this moment again and again in the years to come. The warm, manly scent of his body as it clings to me. The friction of his hard erection sliding into my soft flesh.
I wrap my legs around his, clinging to him. My body grows flushed. His hand shifts, sliding between us. His touch is like magic, and when his thumb presses against my clit I practically scream into his mouth. Wave after wave of pleasure rings through every cell of my being. I’m open and vulnerable and completely at his mercy, and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever experienced.
“Good god,” I gasp, my fingernails biting into his lower back as I pulse around him.
He groans against my mouth.
For one long moment I’m blissfully unaware of anything but my own pleasure. All too soon the feelings fade and I’m left in a state of suspended euphoria. That one orgasm isn’t enough. Somehow, instinctively, I know there’s more and I’ve become like an addict, desperate for my next fix.
I shift underneath him, urging Christian to move, to work his magic again. Restlessness eats at me. The pain is barely noticeable, but that aching need is back and it’s a bitch. My body is demanding satisfaction after what it’s had to endure the last few years.
“Christian,” I murmur, pressing my lips to his chin, lower to his neck where a pulse beats strong and sure. “Please.”
After tonight I might not ever see him again, but in this moment in time, I’m closer to this man than I’ve ever been to anyone my entire life. He knows things about me, sees things that no one else ever has. The realization makes me feel oddly vulnerable, and strangely excited.
He cups the sides of my face. Our breathing is choppy and harsh, mingling together, connected. We are one. It should feel strange, it doesn’t. He presses a quick, hard kiss to my lips, then surges into me. We rock together, moving in a rhythm that is all our own. As he thrusts into me, something stirs deep within. An awakening I can’t ignore.
“I want to feel you come around me again,” he demands.
It should scare me how much I want him, it doesn’t. The determination upon his face thrills and intrigues me, as much as it makes me nervous. In this moment, I truly believe that by his command alone he could make me come again. That he could do anything. I rock up against him, meeting him thrust for thrust. The more he moves, the more I move.
We are connected…everywhere. I have no control. Yet, for the first time in years, I enjoy it. I enjoy the complete freedom of letting him take over. Letting him show me the truth of what life can be like. No pain. No worry. Only pleasure. Complete pleasure.
“Do you know how many nights I’ve dreamt of this?”
His words make me hot. Our skin is sleek with sweat, our hearts thundering. I know I’m clawing at his back like I’ve gone insane, but I can’t stop myself. A weak whimper seeps from my lips. I can do nothing but give myself over to my desires. To him.
“So many times I’ve had to stop myself from touching you, kissing you, taking you fully.”
The pressure builds, so intense I can barely take it. “Please, Christian. Now.”
He thrusts into me with a growl. I wanted this to last, but as he surges into me again and again, I know I can’t stop what is about to happen. Don’t want to stop. The pressure explodes and a flood of pleasure washes over me. Vaguely, I’m aware of a moan slipping from between his lips, the steely heat of him as he surges one last time into my body.
I’m flying. Free. Yet, I still feel Christian’s hard form anchoring me to reality. Hell, is this what an out of body experience is like? Euphoria. Pure bliss. Heaven.
All too soon I float back, a pleasurable buzz remaining. As I settle into my body my sex is still throbbing. Christian takes in a deep, trembling breath, trying to regain control, but even the slight movement of him breathing is too much and I moan. He lowers his head and captures my lips. It’s a long, slow, devastating kiss. Instinctively, I lift my hips, but he’s the one who pulls back.
“Not so soon. Give me a moment.” He rolls off me and sits on the edge of the bed. I feel rather like gloating as I realize I’m full of energy while he’s depleted. He murmurs something in Danish. Is he cursing? With trembling hands he rakes back his hair. Did it feel just as amazing for him? Did it feel as if the earth has shifted? His entire world changed?
With a bemused grin, I stare up at the ceiling. So, this
is what sex is all about. Talk about living in the moment. There’s no better way to focus on the here and now. I’ve thought of nothing since his lips touched mine. I want more. I could get addicted to this. Addicted to feeling alive. Feeling attached to someone, something. My smile falls.
I could get addicted to him.
And that scares me more than I want to admit.
****
It’s been an hour since we had sex. Christian is still here, still in my bed and as we cuddle…cuddle, for fuck’s sake….I’m wondering if he’s going to leave anytime soon. It’s not that I don’t want him here. I want him. It’s just that the longer he stays, the less this feels like a one-night stand sort of thing. It’s making me nervous, uneasy.
We’ve already taken a shower in the tiny stall. Another first for me…bathing with a man. We spent more time bumping into each other and laughing, than doing anything sexy. We’d finally had enough and stumbled out of the bathroom to make out on the couch, before ending up back in my bedroom.
“So,” he says, his hand running down my back, soothing and warm.
It’s at least midnight. I’m not sure of the time, and it doesn’t really seem to matter to him. I should be exhausted, but I feel more awake than I have in years. And most of the time I’ve spent staring at the wall wondering how long he’s planning to stay.
He presses up behind me, the full, hard length of his body comforting and erotic all at once, which annoys me. Really annoys me. I don’t want to need him. I don’t want to crave him. I thought we’d have sex, I’d lose my virginity, and our attraction would be spent. Out of our systems. Yet, I can’t deny that as he presses a kiss to my bare shoulder, a shiver of awareness races over me, awakening that ache between my thighs.
“You were a virgin?” he says. “Should we talk about that?”