by Leisa Rayven
“Yeah?”
“Lord, yes. So, you're telling me that was … what? Second base?”
“Uh huh.”
“Wow. Second base rocks.”
“Do you feel less … frantic now?”
“Yes. I feel like a sloth on Valium.” I trail my hand down the front of his jeans and feel how hard he still is. “So, can I help you relax now?”
He tenses. “I'm relaxed.”
“First of all, you're hardly ever relaxed. Second, this part of you is definitely uptight. I'm guessing he'd like a little trip to third base. Or maybe even a home run.”
“Cassie …” He moves away and sits at the other end of the couch. “We're not going to have sex tonight.”
“Why not?”
He turns to me. “How can you be so blasé about having sex for the first time?”
“I'm not blasé, I just don't think it's that big a deal.”
“That's the definition of blasé.”
I sigh. “Okay, fine, but I think I'm ready. And I can tell you are, too, so I don't understand why you keep saying no. I mean, aren't you uncomfortable? Don't you want some relief?”
He gives me a wry smile. “Do you think all of those trips to the bathroom during our stay with Mom and Dad were to pee? You must think I have the smallest bladder in the world.”
“You mean, when you went to the bathroom you were …”
“Yep.” He says it with very little shame.
Just the thought of him pleasuring himself makes my face flame. “In your parents’ house?!”
“I grew up in that house. I've been masturbating there since I hit puberty. Besides, it was either that or walk around for the whole weekend with a hard-on, and believe me, that would have been worse.”
“But if I turn you on so much, why aren't we naked in my bed right now?”
He adjusts himself and runs his hand through his hair. “Cassie, I'm hyperaware that you're a virgin, and apart from the pain you're going to feel the first time, it's also going to be a milestone in your life. You'll never get to have a first time ever again, and I … I just don't want to screw that up for you.”
“How on earth could you screw it up? It's not like you don't know what you're doing. I mean, judging by what you can achieve with just your fingers, having your whole body is going to rock my world.”
“I'm not talking about the actual sex.”
“Then what are you talking about? Because I'm kind of confused here.”
He looks down at his hands. “What if we do it, and you figure out I can't be the boyfriend you need and end up hating me? The memory of your first time would always be tainted.”
“Why would you even think that?”
He takes a deep breath. “Because it happened to me.” He clasps his hands in front of him and squeezes his knuckles until they crack.
It takes me a few moments before the penny drops. “Oh! Vanessa? She was your—”
“Yes.”
We sit in silence for a few seconds, and I feel bad for doubting he wanted me. It never occurred to me he was trying to make sure I didn't jump headfirst into a sexual relationship I'd end up regretting.
“I just don't want you to make the mistakes I did,” he says.
I nod. “Okay. I can see where you're coming from.”
His eyes are guarded but tinged with the lust I saw earlier. “You can?”
“Yeah. I kind of think … well, it's actually pretty sweet of you.”
He frowns. “Don't call me sweet. Call me hot. Or awesome. Or well-endowed. Kittens are sweet, not me.”
I try not to laugh. “Okay, fine. You're a hot, awesome, well-endowed bad-ass.”
He nods. “Better.”
I poke him with my foot, and he grabs it. He gives it a gentle squeeze before he brings it up to his mouth so he can kiss my ankle.
Oh, sweet Holy Mother…
“So,” he says as he kisses my calf, “my point is, I might have a lot of issues, but not wanting you isn't one of them. Controlling myself around you, on the other hand …” He looks pointedly at my panties and bare legs. “That's a definite problem. You have me so turned on all of the time, I'm embarrassed to think how short my fuse will be when we finally seal the deal.”
I move over to straddle his hips and wind my fingers in his hair. “But we are going to seal the deal?”
He puts his hands on my thighs and strokes slowly. “Maybe. If we try this boyfriend-girlfriend thing for a while, and you don't want to murder me.”
“Yeah, I'll go out on a limb and say that even if I wanted to murder you, I'd still want to have sex with you. Are you sure you don't want to do it tonight? Ruby has, like, a thousand condoms in her nightstand. She wouldn't miss one. Or four.”
He drops his head back and half groans, half laughs as I kiss his neck. I know how much he likes it when I nibble and suck. Am I trying to make him forget all the noble reasons we should wait? Maybe. All I know is that the longer I spend kissing him, the hungrier I get. He thinks I could end up regretting sleeping with him. I doubt it. But I do know that if he leaves here tonight without making love to me, I'd definitely regret that.
I kiss him all over, trying to break down his resistance.
His chest is warm, and I use soft lips and gentle fingers. When I look up, I find him watching me. As I move farther down and explore the ridges of his abs, he tilts his head back and exhales.
I whisper things into his skin. I tell him how beautiful he is, how special, how much I need him. He replies with a frown. I don't think he believes me, but I'm determined to make him.
When I go back to his mouth, he lets me see more of his need and kisses me so deeply, he makes me dizzy.
When I reach for the fly of his pants, he pulls back, breathless. “I thought we agreed to not have sex tonight?”
“No. You said we should wait. I didn't agree.”
“But you said you understood. You thought it was sweet.”
“I do understand, and your concern is sweet. I just think it's completely unnecessary.” I graze my fingers across his chest and watch as goose bumps form. “If you really don't want to take this any further tonight, no problem. Just tell me to stop.” I kiss his neck. Taste his skin. Salty and warm despite the chill outside. “I'll do whatever you want.”
He grips my hips as I grind against him, but he doesn't say anything.
“Do you want me to stop, Ethan?” I kiss his clavicle, his pec, just above his nipple. He squeezes his eyes shut. “Or do you want me to keep touching you?”
When his eyes open, there's fire there. Deep and hungry.
He wraps his fist in my hair. “You don't think I can stop, do you?”
“I know you can. I just really hope you won't.”
He stares at me for a few seconds before pulling me in for a searing kiss.
Lips. Tongue. Oh, God. His tongue.
He tastes like lust. Smells like it, too. Even though I can feel him trying to resist, I know his erogenous zones just as well as he knows mine, and I use them against him.
After a few more minutes of coaxing, his hands are everywhere, pushing under elastic and tugging at straps. When I sense him becoming greedy, I pull back. His gaze heats my skin as he watches me remove my bra. Then just like that, he doesn't seem so cautious any more. He makes a sound, and I swear it's the last of his willpower snapping. He stands, taking me with him, and it's like he's all around me. Hands, and mouth, and dark, needy noises.
Then, everything seems to happen in a blur. My back is pressed against walls and doors as he moves us toward the bedroom. I tug on his hair. Sink teeth into his shoulder. He carries me with one arm and uses the other to tug at his clothes.
We're both needy. Urgent hands push and probe, not satisfied with anything but unencumbered skin. For me, every layer that hits the floor feels like a victory. Every low noise he makes becomes my new anthem.
Each time he crushes against me, I can feel more of him, and the more I feel, the more I need.
Wh
en we're finally both naked on the bed, the sheer volume of his skin against mine makes me stop dead in my tracks and gasp for air.
When I stare up at him, my awe is reflected in his eyes.
“Cassie …”
I stop him with a kiss. “Say you want me.”
“You know I do, but …”
“Then make love to me.”
He drops his head and exhales. “You deserve—”
“You. I deserve you. Stop second-guessing this and make love to me. You said you want my first time to be special. Well, make it special. I want it to be you. Don't you understand? This is the most special thing you can give me. Please.”
He squeezes his eyes shut. His body is bound up with tension from so many different sources, I don't think he can figure out how to unwind himself. I push him onto his back and straddle his hips before leaning over so my hair brushes his chest. I stroke his arms to try to loosen his emotional knots.
“Stop thinking,” I whisper, and kiss down his neck. He sighs when I move down to his chest and lifts my hair so he can watch. “For one night, just be with me. No fear. No guilt. Just us.”
I move down and kiss his stomach. Warm skin. Sparse hair. Muscles tremble under my lips as he tightens his hand in my hair.
“It's not easy to just switch off my brain,” he says, his voice quiet.
“Then let me help you.”
I move down to where he's hard and graze with fingers first, then lips and tongue. He makes a long, strained noise that vibrates through all of his muscles.
Lord, how he sounds. How he feels. How every stroke makes him let go just a little bit more.
I look up and see he's watching me, enraptured. For once, he's totally here. Not lost in his head somewhere. His expression is breath-takingly vulnerable as I bring him pleasure.
“God … Cassie …”
He strokes my face gently, the expression on his face reverent. I move my mouth over him, making every touch say something.
When he swears under his breath, I know he's close. Before he can finish, he lifts me up and away and pushes me onto my back. He kisses me then moves down to the rest of my body to explore all of the parts he hasn't seen before.
The look of astonishment on his face almost makes me laugh. I have no illusions that I have a perfect body or that I'm the most beautiful girl in the world. But the way he looks at me makes me feel like I am.
He trails fingertips over my nipples and makes me shiver. His mouth follows.
Yes.
Every dip and groove of my body is explored. Touched and kissed. Sucked and nibbled. He worships my skin, and makes soft noises that speak louder than most of the words he's ever said.
Like this, he's mine. Completely. It's so clear in the way he watches me. As if he's looking for every new milestone of pleasure while he convinces all of my nerve endings to dance for him.
I'm desperate to ask him if this is normal. If the other women he's been with have come so thoroughly undone by him. But I decide to believe this is extraordinary for both of us. That this bizarre chemical eruption we bring out in each other is unique.
I go into a haze as he pushes his hand between my thighs. Gentle fingers. Tight circles. I clutch and grip at him; whisper his name to urge him on. Needing, needing, needing.
Long minutes stretch and ebb. He strings me along, gentle but determined, and when he finally lets me come, I cry out as all of my muscles tremble and spasm.
I grip his shoulders throughout my climax, and he kisses my forehead. He seems to be breathing almost as heavily as I am. When I come back to my senses and open my eyes, he looks confused. Almost like he can't believe what he just witnessed.
“I'll never get tired of seeing that,” he says and shakes his head. “It's freaking ridiculous how someone else's orgasm can give me so much pleasure.”
He collapses onto his back, and I kiss down his neck, to his chest, then press my lips over his heart to feel how fast it's pounding. I notice how it speeds up when I reach between us and take him in my hand.
“Ohhhhh, God …”
The feel of him makes me want him even more. Like I'm holding the exact shape of my need. I wonder if I'll ever see anything more magnificent than Ethan in the throes of pleasure. I highly doubt it.
“You are so beautiful,” I whisper.
He opens his eyes, and for just a moment, I think he lets himself believe it.
I kiss him. His response is hungry and desperate, and I've never needed anything more than I need him inside me. He either needs it, too, or he finally understands my relentless determination, because he grabs his jeans off the floor, tugs his wallet free, and pulls out a condom.
I've never seen a man put on a condom before, and although it seems like it wouldn't be an inherently sensual act, watching Ethan do it is incredibly arousing. He moves quickly, hands sure and confident, and a shiver runs up my spine.
We're going to have sex.
I'm going to lose my virginity.
For the first time in my life, I'm going to have another person … a man … Ethan … inside my body.
I'm overcome by a wave of nerves. For so long, I've sworn black and blue that my virginity was nothing more than a burden, but as Ethan kisses me and rolls between my legs, the reality of what's about to happen dawns on me.
I tense up. He's so close to where I've wanted him for months.
He stops and frowns. “What's wrong?”
I shake my head. “Nothing. I just—”
“We can stop. We probably should…”
“No! God, no, please.” I touch his face. “I'm just … this is kind of a big moment, you know? I didn't think it would be, but it is. After this … everything will be different.”
His expression darkens. “I'm going to hurt you.”
“I know. But it has to happen, right?”
He doesn't answer. Regretful already.
“When it comes to that part, just do it, okay? Quickly. I'd rather it be fast and over with than all drawn out.”
He pauses as his fear builds. “Cassie …”
I wrap my arms around him and pull him down. He kisses me deeply, but the sound he makes almost feels like a protest. As if he wants to stop but can't.
“I'll be all right,” I whisper and stroke his face. “Don't worry.” He's pressed against me, and I can feel how hard and ready he is. I kiss him once more. “Ethan?”
“Yeah?”
“I'm really glad it's you.”
He swallows and nods, and when he kisses me again, I feel him reach between us. I hold my breath. There's pressure, much more than with his fingers, and it increases as he pushes forward. He doesn't get far. We grunt against each other's lips before stilling, forehead to forehead.
“You okay?”
I nod. “Don't stop.”
He moves again, and the pressure starts to burn. When I close my eyes against the pain, he stops.
“No. Keep going. Please.”
“Look at me.”
I open my eyes and see strain and worry on his face. “Just keep looking at me, okay? Don't think about the pain. Be with me.” He moves forward again until he can't go any farther. I grunt in frustration. He pulls back before he thrusts with more force, and this time, it really hurts. I groan, and he tries to distract me with his mouth.
“You feel amazing,” he whispers against my lips. “I knew you would but … Jesus.” He thrusts again, and I cry out when a sharp pain shoots through me. I dig my nails into his shoulders.
He stops for a second, but I urge him on.
When he pushes forward, it hurts. Muscles and tissues stretch and ache. A flash of panic hits as I think he's not going to fit.
God, no. What if he doesn't fit?
He rocks back and forth and manages to go a little deeper each time. His brows furrow in concentration, and he alternates between asking if I'm okay and kissing me.
“I'm sorry it hurts,” he whispers. I grit my teeth when he moves deeper. “I never wan
ted to hurt you. Ever.”
Another thrust. Then another. I push out a long breath, and so does he. Then his hips rest against my inner thighs, and I realize … he's inside me.
Fully.
His body joined with mine.
Finally.
I look up at him in surprise. The pain has been replaced by a throbbing burn, but it doesn't stop my mind from being blown. Everything he's feeling is reflected in his eyes. Joy, shock, lust, love, regret, elation. Like this, he's an open book. Nothing hidden or buried.
Just us. Joined in so many more ways than just the physical.
It's the most incredible thing I've ever felt.
Full to overflowing with him, I can barely breathe. This is what I've waited for. What I've craved for months. I understand why he's been hiding from these feeling all this time. They're too powerful and too scary. If you never see paradise, you don't know what you're missing.
But we see now. Both of us. He's been blinded from seeing, and as much as he wants to look away, he can't.
Neither can I.
“Cassie …”
“I'm okay.”
He moves a little then freezes. All of his muscles tense. “God … I can't. You feel … unbelievable.”
He drops his head into my neck and just breathes. I hold him and savor the moment. Stroke his back. Take in the all-over rightness of him.
I'd thought I didn't want special, but here it is. His face is pressed into my throat, and I can tell he's trying to control himself. Being with him like this is more than special. It's essential. I can't imagine giving this part of myself to anyone else. I try to take a mental snapshot, because I know in the album of my life, this moment is irreplaceable.
He pushes up onto his elbows, and when he moves, he does it slowly. He watches me with a look of concerned concentration. I think he's trying to hide how much he's enjoying himself. Like it's wrong he's feeling pleasure while I'm in pain.
He needn't worry. With each thrust, the burn diminishes, and after a couple of minutes, I'm breathless and arching from the deep slide of him.
His thrusts become more confident.
“You're inside me,” I say.
He kisses my shoulder and presses his forehead against it. His voice is strained when he says, “Only fair. You've been inside me for months. Are you okay?”
