“Are you scared?”
“It’s supposed to hurt the first time, so that might suck, but if other girls can handle it, I can handle it.”
“That’s the only part that concerns you? The physical pain?”
“Well, I want it to be good.”
“Physically?”
“Yeah.”
“And you don’t care if it’s with someone special?”
“You’re a bonded child, Quin, the very definition of special.”
“But I’m not special to you. We don’t share a special relationship.”
“I don’t share a special relationship with anyone, remember?”
“Right.”
“And just because we don’t have a special relationship, doesn’t mean we can’t share a special moment.”
He wasn’t so sure about that. His connection to her was weak and overwhelmed by responsibility and reservations, but his dick sure as hell thought she was special. The damn thing had been twitching since she stripped down to her bikini. Now it was practically jumping for her. How one part of his body could conflict so strongly with the rest was a complete mystery, one that had been driving him crazy since he hit puberty.
Summoning his bottle of water, he took a drink. Then he passed it over and told her to do the same. She obeyed while watching him out of the corner of her eye, and by the time he capped the bottle and tossed it aside, she wore a smug smile, aware she was about to get her way.
She tossed her hair back and intently stared at him, like she was prepping for a photo shoot instead of sex, and he had to withhold a smirk. Her excitement was cute, but her expectations were high, and he wasn’t sure how to fulfill them.
He looked at her lips, recalling the time he’d kissed them in grade school. It had been an innocent peck, no tongue or thoughts of sex. Just a little boy struck dumb by a pretty girl. He wasn’t so easily struck anymore, but her lips were still pretty. He glanced at her eyes while leaning closer, and upon finding zero doubt, he let his lips touch hers. Her heart rate instantly jumped, making him pause, but then she wrapped a hand around his neck and kissed him back.
Whoa… Okay, so this part was not new to her. At all. She wasn’t the least bit shy about using tongue, and her lips moved with urgency. It was a good kiss, but she seemed more into it than he was. Either that or she was trying to rush him into the next step.
He left her lips and pulled her claws from his back. “Slow down.”
“What?”
“You should let me set the pace.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s not a race. Exactly how far have you gone?”
“Kissing, groping, grinding. That’s about it.”
He slid the tip of his forefinger under the tiny triangle hiding her left nipple. “Has anyone reached under your shirt?”
“A few times.”
He slid his hand lower and tugged on the thin strap stretching over her left hip. “What about your skirt?”
“They’ve tried.”
“But you’ve never let them?”
“No.”
Now it was his for the taking. How could he say no? And would his manhood ever forgive him if he did?
Reaching back up, he found the bow behind her neck. “I’m going to take this off.”
“Okay.”
He loosened the knots at her neck and back then pulled the bikini top away, exposing her chest before helping himself to a long look. He’d never seen a pair of breasts so big on a witch so young, but revealing their nipples didn’t elicit any extra leaps from his hyperactive groin. Or maybe he was already as hard as he could get.
“What do you think?” she asked.
He laughed and found her face. “You’ll hear no complaints from me.”
“I usually don’t. They get more looks than I do.”
He sighed and shook his head. “Guys are assholes.”
She shrugged. “I don’t care if they look.”
“I know. You like it when they look.”
“Usually. I think my tits are nice, and I like showing them off, so yeah, in certain situations, I want them to be noticed.”
“They are nice, and they rarely go unnoticed.”
“Good.”
“So you let them be seen and touched. Has anyone had their mouth on them?”
“One guy, one time.”
“Did you like it?”
“Yeah. It was hot.”
He allowed himself a handful of firm flesh then tested the sensitivity of her nipple. It quickly tightened under his thumb, but she didn’t flinch, so he gave her another kiss and let his hand roam. She kissed him back, but she didn’t go crazy like before. Relinquishing control obviously wasn’t in her nature, but she was letting him set the pace, which gave him a little time to familiarize himself with the body he was about to take.
His own body was cursing him, telling him to shed his shorts and get on with it, but guilt and responsibility told his lower half to suck it up. If he was going to make the jump and take someone’s virginity, he’d damn sure do it right.
Once she lay relaxed within her racing aura, he let his hand venture to her stomach then under her bikini bottoms. She stopped kissing, but rather than tense or tell him to stop, she untied the bows on her hips and let the material fall away.
He glanced at her parted legs, taking note of the tidy runway lining his path. Then he found her eyes. “If it hurts too much, tell me. I’ll try something different.”
“Okay.”
He slid his fingers lower, cupping them between her thighs. Then he softly stroked the outside of her body until her deepening breaths matched his rhythm and she was moving against his hand. Now was the time, but he’d never been so hesitant, as if he was about to take a turn he couldn’t come back from.
He’d already turned, damn it. If he backed out now, he’d be the biggest asshole of them all.
He curled one finger in as her hips rose, and she took it to the first knuckle before stopping and drawing a sharp breath, but he could tell he wasn’t hurting her… yet. He slowly deepened his reach, searching for her hymen, and when he found it, he had no idea what to do with it. He’d felt hymens before, but he’d always left them intact. He didn’t need to pop a girl’s cherry to get her off. But if he was going to have sex with Abigail, he had to get it out of the way. One thing he would not do is break the damn thing with his raging hard-on.
Following a surefire method he’d used in the past, he started working her up with his fingers, and while she climbed, he allowed himself some quality time with her chest. She got plenty of pleasure from his attention, and he barely had to touch her clit to bring her to orgasm. He had no way of knowing if it was her first. She could have spent the past few years getting herself off, but this would be the one she’d remember, because right as she peaked, he slipped a second finger inside and broke her hymen.
Her pleased hum jumped into a pained cry, and he cringed, his heart lurching into his throat as his lungs flattened. Damn. He was a dick.
Pulling in a labored breath, he withdrew his fingers and found her flushed face. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, vanishing the mess. “Are you okay?”
She kept her eyes squeezed shut as she nodded, but he wasn’t convinced.
“Does it still hurt?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you want to stop?”
She opened her eyes and scowled. “No.”
“You already got off.”
“So? I’m still a virgin. Besides, don’t you want to get off?”
He needed to get off. Sleep probably wouldn’t come without it. If she decided to stop, he’d have to go take care of himself in the woods. “Yeah,” he admitted. “Will you let me desensitize you?”
“The whole time?”
“No. I can adjust the spell to see how you’re handling it. If it feels okay, I can get rid of it.”
“Are you big?”
“Much bigger than my fingers.”
“May I s
ee? Are you hard?”
“Yeah.” He vanished his shorts and leaned back, letting her stare as long as she wanted.
She raised her eyebrows and looked up. “It’s not small.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Maybe you should desensitize me.”
“I think that’s a good idea.”
“Will that make it less pleasurable for you?”
“I have no idea, but don’t worry about it.”
“But I don’t want to be awful.”
“You’re not. Trust me. You’re doing fine, and I’ll have no problem getting off.”
“Are you protected against pregnancy?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s do it.”
Let’s do it, he silently repeated, and his erection eagerly agreed, but the guilt remained, even after he’d numbed her with magic and positioned himself between her legs. His concentration was divided, his mind on his spellwork while his body screamed for release, but he tried to keep an eye on her aura as he took the plunge and took her.
She was enjoying herself, more so than him, but he hoped she was too inexperienced to know the difference between emotionally fueled passion and pure physical pleasure. He was getting plenty of the latter, and her body was worthy of a passionate response, but as always, the emotional connection was sorely lacking. He was okay with that, and the last thing he wanted was for Abigail to get emotionally attached, but a girl’s first time shouldn’t be completely apathetic, and he felt like an ass for making it so.
When she let him drop his numbing spell, her virgin body tightened around him, and that was the end of that. Good thing he got her off before having sex with her, because he didn’t have time to do it during, and not even her aura could keep his attention when his hormonal teenage body got its way.
Once the pressure subsided, he glanced at her face and aura, but immediately looked away. Damn. In hindsight, none of it seemed worth it – neither the risk nor the reward. He hadn’t even pulled away, yet his arousal had lost all legitimacy. Now it was just a lame excuse for doing something stupid.
Keeping his eyes averted, he backed off and cleaned her up. Then he forced himself to look at her face while donning his shorts and lying beside her. Her eyes were shiny and unfocused, her lips were curved into a small smile, and her aura was full of emotion.
Shit…
“Wow,” she breathed. Then her forehead wrinkled as her smile fell. “Was it good for you?”
“Yeah,” he answered, omitting the remorse and apprehension. “You?”
Her smile returned. “Yes. It didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would.”
“Good.”
“And now it’s done.”
“It’s done,” he repeated, hoping she understood everything that phrase encompassed. “How do you feel?”
She thought for a moment. Then her lungs deflated with her answer. “Warm on the inside, chilly on the outside, and kind of tingly in between.”
He summoned an extra blanket from his bag and laid it over her naked body. “Are you still sore?”
“A little.”
“Do you want me to heal you?”
“No.” Pulling the blanket to her chin, she rolled onto her side and found his stare. “Is it better the second time?”
“For girls? Probably. But I don’t know that I’d say the same for guys. For us, every time feels pretty damn good.”
“But there shouldn’t be as much pain the second time, right?”
“Right.”
“Then I’m glad I got it out of the way.”
The fact that she didn’t regret the experience made him feel a little better, and the tension in his shoulders eased. “Then I’m glad I could help.”
She searched his stare, and he could tell she was about to be bold. “Will you help me again?”
“No.” The blunt response came out harsher than he intended, so he took a moment to calm his pulse before going on. “If you need my help with something besides sex, sure. Just ask. But I told you, I’ve never been with anyone twice, and I have no plans to change that. What just happened was great. You were great. But I’m the same guy I was before.”
She didn’t look happy, but she didn’t look mad either. “I get it.”
He hoped so, because he couldn’t be her boyfriend. He couldn’t be anyone’s boyfriend. If he tried, he’d leave a trail of broken hearts in his wake. He was uncontrollably unfaithful, his head and heart always roaming elsewhere, and none of the witches in his life could tame them. Not even Abigail-fucking-Bryant.
“So may I sleep in here?” she asked, her attitude colder than before.
He didn’t want her sleeping next to him, but he wasn’t about to tell her that. He’d allowed himself some dick moves that night, but that was pushing it too far. “Of course,” he answered, giving her his pillow.
She took it without hesitation. “Thanks.” Then she rolled over and fell silent.
Shit, shit, shit. So not worth it. The sex was mediocre and the consequences were already hitting him.
He let out a quiet sigh while lying back and folding his hands behind his head. Then he stared at the ceiling of the tent while listening to her breathe. He could see her aura out of the corner of his eye, and he paid close attention to the shifts, waiting for her to fall asleep. It took her a while, a plethora of thoughts and feelings no doubt keeping her awake, but her breathing eventually deepened as her aura softened.
Finally, for the first time all night, Quin let himself completely relax, and within seconds of closing his eyes, he drifted off.
As it often does, the black blur of sleep sped by, spanning what felt like mere seconds rather than hours. Then boom, there she was – a bright rainbow of mist floating between him and the ceiling of the tent.
Layla.
He gasped her in, and she giggled, inciting the most genuine smile he’d flashed since the last time he saw her. She usually crept up behind him in bed, rarely surprising him from above, and he sensed she was feeling playful.
“Hey,” he greeted, slowly reaching out.
“Hey back,” she returned.
A pink ribbon of warmth flowed over his arm to his cheek, and as he turned his face toward the heat, it fluttered apart into wispy fog and hovered back up.
“You…” she hummed, touching his other cheek.
Yes, she was definitely feeling playful. “What about me?” he asked.
“You’re upset with yourself.”
“Yeah,” he confessed. “I think I did something stupid.”
“Then you probably did.”
He laughed, but his heart squeezed as he tried to separate the Layla who lived in his head from the Layla who lived in the hexless world, the one who remained oblivious to him and his screw-ups, the one who wasn’t there. “You know what I did.”
She sang her reply, and it sounded like she was skipping around in his head. “I know what you did.”
“You’re in a good mood tonight,” he laughed.
Her delayed response came from the right, a whisper directly in his ear. “Because that’s what you need.”
The tickle of her breath felt as real as the ground beneath him, making him shiver and smile wider. “Maybe I should be stupid more often. Will you come play with me after every mistake?”
Her colors moved in rhythm with her hyper answer. “Mistake, nap, mistake, nap, mistake, nap…”
She kept going until he laughed and reached for her. “Okay, okay, I get it. Living that way would quickly get annoying for everyone involved.”
She giggled again, her rainbow gracefully swirling around his outstretched arm. “Want to dance with me?”
His mouth fell open. Never had she encouraged him to move around in his dreams, let alone move around with her. Usually if he got too desperate in his interactions with her, she’d disappear.
Suddenly aware of how similar his dream world was to his real world, he looked to his left, bracing to find Abigail sleeping there. But sh
e was gone, replaced by a bed of smooth blankets, so he kept one arm in Layla’s warmth while using the other to push himself up.
“You won’t leave me?” he asked, raptly watching her colors come together and lengthen. They didn’t take on the form of a human body, but they looked similar to an aura.
“Stop worrying,” she whispered, moving closer.
He wanted to grab her and wrap her in a hug, but refrained from doing anything that would disrupt her flow. She started swaying, all of her, as one collection rather than separate ribbons, and he kept his gaze glued to her every move, trying to follow her lead.
Pressing closer, she blanketed his torso in tingles while speaking straight into his heart. “Close your eyes.”
He immediately obeyed, and the moment he lost his sense of sight, he fell in sync with her, dancing with her warm colors as easily as he would the real deal.
“This is amazing,” he whispered.
Heat closed over his lips and cheek as she responded. “It’s just a dream.”
“It’s an amazing dream.”
“You’re a good dancer.”
“I don’t even care.”
She laughed, and he smiled while bowing his head, hoping to get a big breath of her before she disappeared. “Thank you for coming to play with me.”
“Thank you for inviting me.”
“I’ll miss you while I’m awake.”
“I know.”
He fell silent, hoping to prolong the moment, but all too soon, he felt her slipping away. His heart told him to hold on, to clutch her and keep her there, but he knew better than to try. She faded much slower if he let her do it on her own time.
When he started losing her heat, he quickly reached out and whispered. “I love you, Layla.”
But she was too far gone to reply, and when he opened his eyes, he was lying on his back with his hands behind his head.
Blinking at the morning light, he sighed. Then he jolted at Abigail’s voice. “Who’s Layla?”
He looked to the left to find Abby a few inches away, and his eyes widened as he leaned back.
“Well?” she urged.
He sat up and rubbed his face, recalling his mistake, his dream, and his current predicament. “Well what?”
“Who’s Layla?” she repeated, sitting up beside him.
He glanced over, his line of sight filling with her breasts. Then he searched for her bikini as he replied. “Why do you ask?”
Quin 1 (The Mystic Series) Page 4
