Her tight little body softens from me relieving her of her guilt, and I dip down to kiss her. She lifts to meet me, clutching me with a ferocity I didn’t think someone so petite is capable of. I love how perfect she is. Allowing me to dominate her, but bringing just as much pleasure to me with her tongue sweeping in to tangle with mine.
I’ve never been as shocked as I am now when her hands slide from my back to my cock and she strokes me with a delicate touch. Fingertips graze across the taut skin exploring me before she grows bolder and circles her fingers around me. Caressing me with a tentative grip up and down to the point I groan into her throat. “Fuck that feels good.”
“Please Reece. I’m ready.”
Unable to deny her or myself with her request, I reach down too, never breaking eye contact with her as I couple our hands and together we slowly guide in the tip. She tenses underneath me and blows out a long breath, tickling my damp hair, almost as if she’s preparing herself. “Are you okay?”
“I’m perfect.”
That she is. I thrust in a few more inches, and she lets out a muffled whimper into my shoulder.
“Fuck angel. You’re so tight.”
“Please don’t stop. Please.”
I couldn’t if I tried. Not with her begging me. Not with her clutching me. Not with her torturing me.
Another breath. Another flex. Another cry. Of fucking pain. My eyes fly open at the realization when I feel her open. Welcoming a man inside her for the very first fucking time.
A blush spreads across her dewy cheeks yet she still smiles. Not upset. Happy. Fucking deliriously happy I just took her virginity. Slight fingers cup my face this time.
“I’m glad it’s you.”
I growl from the words she doesn’t admit. Not him. Thank fucking god not him. “I’m glad it’s me too.”
Small hands curl around my shoulders as I push all the way into her. No way to be gentle now when she’s given herself to me in all ways. If there was any doubt before—and there wasn’t ever in my mind—all of that is completely gone now. Evaporated instantly with the declaration of no other man before me or after me. Period. Final. Done.
She’s mine.
She must realize it too and braces herself against the mattress to withstand my drive inside her drenched pussy. Too deep in my head I didn’t even realize I’m pounding too deep into her. Claiming her in a way I never have any other woman. And never wanted to.
I remind myself this is for her and slow down, pulling her tighter, sliding my forearm under the back of her neck and my other hand behind her knee. Hugging her as I fuck her. Inhaling her scent that I swear smells like fucking candied apples. Worshiping her the way she should be by a man like me, who’s never held such sweet innocence in his hands.
“I wanted this...wanted you.”
Agony battles with conviction in her attempt to persuade me. I hate that she suffers, and I despise myself for being the one to cause it. Yet I’m grateful she trusts me to be the one to inflict the pain and hopefully ease her discomfort afterward. “I promise this will be the only time I ever hurt you. Every time from now on there will only be just pleasure.”
“It’s getting better, I swear. Please keep going.”
At least she’s not wincing any longer. Even if it’s not mind blowing, I can at least make it good and release her leg to start strumming her clit. She seems to like that a lot. A whole hell of a lot with her eyes drifting shut and her grimace turning into a gasp. Narrow hips lift, seeking more and a soft moan blows between her pink lips that I capture with my mouth claiming hers. We fall into a perfect rhythm, thrusting deeper and circling harder until finally her body stills and she cries out with pleasure again. Fucking glorious to my ears and I strain even harder for a repeat, relishing her calling out my name again as she falls over the edge. With a few more plunges, I’m gone too and finish inside her because my come doesn’t belong anywhere else but her womb.
She snuggles in, ravished and spent. I hold her tight and let her rest because I’m going to have to take her again in a few minutes. One time isn’t enough. Won’t ever be enough.
I force myself not to react when he unwraps his huge arm from around my waist and his lips brush my cheek before he climbs out of bed. A surprisingly tender kiss from such a powerful man. Sweet but unnecessary because he thinks I’m asleep. Because he knows this means nothing. Because he’s done with me.
Which is for the best. I let my emotions get the best of me last night but I’m fine. Really. I had a wonderful night with a generous guy who treated me like the queen he claimed me to be. Way better than if I’d actually gotten married.
Pretending to snooze while he showers and quietly pulls on clothes, I force myself not to sneak a peek. Well aware how incredible his body is and how lucky I am to have been able to have him all to myself for so long. I don’t sit up until the handle clicks behind him when he shuts the door.
Tingles ripple through my body when I examine the remnants of our love making. Slight bruises in the shape of his fingerprints mark my biceps and my hips. I shouldn’t feel that rush again from remembering his possessive touch, but I can’t fight my reaction from the proof our passion stirs. Although I have zero experience, I know he was amazing. We were amazing together. All three times.
My elation evaporates as my gaze travels lower. Dried blood streaks my stomach and thighs, embarrassing how much scarlet coats the sheets. Nothing I can do but cover the humiliation with the blankets and hope the housekeeper doesn’t say anything to him about it. About me. About the us that never was.
There isn’t anything I want more than to get out of here without him seeing me. But I’m not sure how likely that is so I have to at least try not to look like I’m a nightmare after the fantasy of last night. I tiptoe to the bathroom that’s still steamy and smells like him. That scent of leather and smoke and man almost overwhelms me. Stupid to hurt and feel like I’ve lost something I never had to begin with.
I stand on the warm tile under the heavy cascade in his luxurious shower and scrub myself as fast as I can. Disappointed I have to wash his essence off my skin yet smiling like an idiot that I’ll still have a reminder of him for another week or so. Until the marks heal and only my memories remain.
Finger-combing my hair is almost useless without any conditioner but at least I’m clean and clear-faced. The expensive towels feel like blankets they’re so thick and soft as I sweep over my torso and down my legs. My hands shake even though I’m not cold. I want to hurry and not have to face him but I doubt I’ll be that lucky.
I use my finger to brush my teeth and tongue as best I can with his minty toothpaste so at least I don’t have morning breath. The other issue of what I don’t have are clothes. The gown was too absurd I shouldn’t have been wearing it yesterday let alone this morning. He has to have something I could put on. I randomly yank open the middle drawer of a tall chest, assuming socks and boxer briefs fill the top rows. Two stacks of neatly folded tees fill the deep space, and I lift out a green one, attempting not to wrinkle or disturb the others. So big, the shirt fits like a dress, hanging past my knees. I look dumb but at least I’m covered.
Blowing out a deep breath, I swipe my ripped thong and shredded thigh highs off the floor and race back to the bathroom, shoving them into the trashcan under the sink. Too bad the dress won’t fit in the bin too, but I can’t leave the gown behind either. That would be too tacky. I slowly twist the knob, peeking out into the hallway. Unsure if I’m relieved or disappointed the corridor is empty, I shake my head. Trying and failing to mute the emotions swirling in my brain as I tiptoe across the black hardwood. I don’t know why I’m trying so hard to be quiet but silence seems appropriate. I grab the monstrosity and my heels off the living room carpet and sweep toward the door. Only about twenty feet and I’ll be outside. Maybe one of the guards I saw last night will loan me his phone to call an Uber and I can go somewhere that’s not here.