by Abby Green
His brain was overheating, his body screaming for a release of the tension, and those huge limpid eyes were still staring up at him. The hard tips of her breasts scraping against his chest.
Arkim was about to lose it...the heady scent of musk and sex urged him on. He gritted his jaw and thrust hard—and went nowhere.
He heard Sylvie’s swift, sharp intake of breath and looked down. His brain was feeling too hot, too fuzzy to try and figure out what was wrong. But something was wrong. Very wrong.
Moments ago Sylvie had been flushed with pleasure. Now she looked pale and clammy. Shocked. She was biting her lip and her eyes shone with...tears?
Arkim’s insides seemed to drop from a height. But even as suspicion crept in he fought the knowledge... She was just small—that was it. A lot smaller than he’d realised she was.
He clenched his buttocks, trying to forge a passage, and Sylvie’s hands gripped his like steel clamps, her nails digging into his muscles.
‘Stop—please! It hurts.’
And the truth resounded in Arkim’s head like a klaxon going off. Virgin. Innocent.
It was too much to take in. But he had to. She was a virgin.
Arkim pulled back from Sylvie’s resisting body, her wince of obvious pain making him feel as if someone had just punched him in the gut. Somehow he got off the bed, stood up... His legs were shaky. He stared at Sylvie but didn’t really see her, and then he acted on autopilot, going to the bathing area to take care of the protection.
He caught the expression on his face in the mirror and stopped. He looked dark, feral. He looked...like his father. With that insatiable glint in his eye. Narcissistic and intent only on his own self-satisfaction. Uncaring if someone might be innocent, pure. Like his mother. Like Sylvie.
He was no better than his father. This proved it more than any teenage humiliation with a porn actress. Something cold settled down over Arkim’s heart. Something hard and familiar.
He went back out to the main area of the tent and saw Sylvie sitting on the side of the bed, the sheet wrapped around her body. She looked at him over her shoulder and the dark hardness inside Arkim nearly split apart because she looked so forlorn.
He reached for his trousers and pulled them on, irrational anger growing deep down inside him and crawling upwards to catch him in its hot grip.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ He walked around to stand in front of her.
She looked shell-shocked. Arkim drove the emotion down.
‘Why?’ It burst out of him like the firing of a rifle.
Sylvie flinched, her hands clutching the sheet to her chest. ‘I wasn’t sure you’d notice. I almost told you...but I didn’t know how.’
Arkim felt as if all of his ugliness was exposed. He sneered. ‘How about, Hey, Arkim, I’m a virgin, by the way...be gentle with me.’
Sylvie stood up then, and Arkim could see how she trembled. The exposed skin of her shoulder and upper chest was very white. Delicate. Fragile. And he’d been like a rutting bull in a china shop.
He wanted to smash something.
‘I didn’t think you’d notice and I didn’t think it was important.’
‘Well, I did notice and it is important.’ Arkim stalked away and then back, folding his arms across his chest. ‘You’re twenty-eight and you work in a strip club—how the hell are you still a virgin?’
Sylvie hitched her chin. ‘It’s not a strip club. And I just...was never interested before now.’
She started to look around for her things and Arkim caught her by the arm. The anger inside him was a turbulent mass. Everything in him wanted to lash out, to blame someone—blame her. If she’d told him...
What? asked a snide voice. Would you have let her go?
Never.
‘Why, Sylvie? And it’s not just because you weren’t interested. You’re a sexual being—it oozes from you. I had no idea. If I had—’
She wrenched her arm free, fire flashing in her eyes now, any hint of vulnerability gone. ‘You’d have what? Declined the offer?’
She spied her robe on the ground and grabbed it, letting the sheet fall as she tugged it on—but not before Arkim saw that luscious body and his own reacted forcibly.
Then she stopped and glared at him. ‘You want to know the psychological motivation behind my still being a virgin? Really?’
Suddenly he didn’t. But she went on.
‘My father rejected me as a child. My mother had died—his beloved wife—and I resembled her so much that he couldn’t bear to look at me. So he sent me away. He’s never been able to look at me since then without pain or grief. The truth is he would have switched me for her any day of the week.’
Arkim’s chest ached. ‘How can you know that?’
‘Because I overheard him talking to someone. I heard him say how he couldn’t bear the sight of me—that I was a constant reminder that she was gone and that if he could he’d have her back instead of me.’
Arkim reached out, but she slapped his hand away.
‘And as for why I decided to let you be my first lover...? Well, maybe I felt bizarrely secure in the fact that you’d already rejected me on pretty much every level that counts. When you’ve protected yourself against rejection your whole life, it’s almost a relief not to have to fear it any more.’
She stepped back, the robe pulled so tightly around her that every curve was lovingly delineated, and then she left.
* * *
Sylvie was so angry and humiliated she could have cried. But her anger kept the tears at bay. What on earth had possessed her to spill her soul to Arkim like that? As if he cared about the sob story of her relationship with her father. Or about her deepest inner fears of being rejected. She’d never even spoken to Sophie of any of this, not wanting to burden her sister with a negative view of their father.
Sylvie paced back and forth, her emotions vying between humiliation and anger, very aware of the dull throb and stinging between her legs. She stopped in her tracks when she thought of the excruciating pain of Arkim trying to penetrate her—his shock when he’d realised why he couldn’t.
She sat down gingerly on the side of her own bed. She’d never expected it to be that bad. Up till that moment it had been the most incandescently pleasurable experience of her life. And she’d truly thought that he wouldn’t know—that it would always be her own secret.
The tender feelings that had led Sylvie to want to soothe him in some way mocked her now. All the while she’d been thinking she was giving Arkim the supreme gift of her innocence he’d been ready to reject it outright. Evidently her lack of experience was a huge turn-off.
What she’d told Arkim wasn’t entirely true—his outright rejection of her hadn’t really prepared her for this. Or for how much it would hurt. Far more than the physical pain.
She reminded herself that she’d knowingly risked this when she’d chosen to come here. She had no one to blame but herself. It wasn’t a comfort.
Arkim was undoubtedly done with her and his little plan of retribution. He would let her go and she would never see him again.
Feeling raw and weary, Sylvie stood and picked up her bag, started to fill it with the clothes that must have been unpacked when she’d been sleeping. She couldn’t see Arkim doing such a menial task, so it hadn’t been him in her tent.
Now she felt doubly foolish.
Packing her things with more force than necessary, Sylvie didn’t hear anything until a deep and infinitely familiar voice spoke from behind her.
‘What are you doing?’
Sylvie’s entire body hummed in response. She cursed her reaction and didn’t turn around. ‘I’m leaving—what does it look like?’
‘Why?’
There was some note in Arkim’s voice that made her insides flutter dangerously but she
ignored it. She steeled herself and dropped the clothes from her hands and turned around. In the dim flickering lights of the tent Arkim looked huge. He’d put a tunic on over his trousers.
‘Your reaction just now was hardly indicative of wanting us to spend more time together.’
She thought Arkim winced, but couldn’t be sure it wasn’t a trick of the light and her imagination.
Then he said, ‘I could have handled that better. Did I hurt you?’ His voice had turned gruff.
The fluttering in her belly intensified, but Sylvie pushed it down ruthlessly. ‘I’m okay.’
And she was. As soon as he’d pulled out the pain had faded and all that was left was some tenderness.
Then she said tartly, ‘You obviously weren’t prepared for me to be a virgin because all along you’ve assumed I’m some kind of a sl—’
‘Do not even say that word.’ Arkim stepped forward, the lines in his face harsh.
The hurt was back and more painful. Why was he doing this? Bothering? Sylvie crossed her arms, wishing she’d had the foresight to change out of the robe, which felt very flimsy now.
‘Look, you don’t have to do this...apologise, or whatever it is you’re doing. I get it. Me being a virgin was not a welcome surprise, and I understand that you have no desire to be the one to initiate me.’
Arkim came closer and shook his head, a look of incredulity coming over his face. It was only now that she noticed the growth of stubble on his jaw, remembered how it had felt against her softer skin...between her thighs.
‘That’s not it at all. I didn’t handle my reaction well and I’m sorry for that. I had no right to take out my anger on you. It was just a shock when I expected—’ Arkim stopped and ran a hand through his hair and stepped back. He cursed and walked to the door of the tent.
For a heart-stopping second Sylvie thought he was leaving, and her brave façade was just about to crumble when he stopped and put his hand up over the top of the doorway.
He spoke into the inky darkness outside. ‘My mother was a virgin. My father seduced her and took her virginity from her. She didn’t even enjoy the experience. He was rough...’
Arkim turned around and Sylvie felt her heart beating too fast. She sank down onto the bed. ‘How can you know this?’
He was grim. ‘She kept a diary. It was in a box of her personal items that my father somehow miraculously kept. I read it when I was a teenager.’ His voice was rough. ‘When it became obvious you were...innocent I realised that I was doing to another woman exactly what he’d done to her.’
Sylvie shook her head and stood up again, compelled to go over to Arkim with a fierceness she’d never felt before. ‘You didn’t know... I could have explained, but I didn’t.’ She bit her lip. ‘This is going to sound really stupid, but when you told me about what had happened to you... I wanted you to be the one...’
Arkim reared back slightly. ‘You wanted to sleep with me because you felt sorry for me?’
‘No.’ She stopped, and then admitted sheepishly, ‘Maybe, in a way...’
Arkim looked ready to bolt, but Sylvie put a hand on his arm. He stopped, his face etched with injured pride.
‘Not like that.’ Her mouth twitched slightly. ‘Believe me, you don’t inspire pity in people, Arkim—anything but. I wanted to sleep with you because you truly are the first person who has connected with me on that level... From the moment I saw you, I wanted you. Even when you looked at me with disdain it made me want to make you notice me.’
‘I noticed you...’ His tone was wry.
Sylvie’s cheeks grew hot as she remembered that first time they’d met. The erroneous impression she’d made.
She let his arm go and shrugged lightly, avoided his eye. ‘I thought that I could somehow gift you something...pure. The purest thing I have to give. To show you that not everything is tainted.’ She looked at him again. ‘You are nothing like your father. And I am nothing like your mother. This is not the same. You are considerate...you stopped when you knew I was in pain. It sounds like your father wasn’t even aware of that.’
Something in the air between them changed...sizzled. The tension shifted to one full of awareness. Wanting.
Arkim lifted a hand and cupped Sylvie’s jaw. ‘What do you say we start again?’
Her breath hitched. Start again...? As in from the beginning or just from tonight? But she was too afraid to ask it out loud, to break this fragile spell. She’d bared herself completely to him and he was still here. Still wanted her.
‘Yes...’ she breathed.
Arkim moved closer and Sylvie’s skin tingled all over. Her breasts, still sensitive, peaked to hard points.
‘And, for the record, I don’t reject you... I absolutely accept you.’ His voice became fervent. ‘You are mine, Sylvie. No one else’s on this earth.’ Something dark crossed his face. ‘If I was a better man I’d let you go, but I’m too selfish to let anyone else have you.’
And then he kissed her, before she could say a word, and there was nowhere left to run or hide.
The fire swept up around them faster than before, and then he was carrying Sylvie over to the bed, putting her down and sweeping her clothes and bag away with one hand.
He took off his clothes and her hungry gaze roved over him, as if it was her first time seeing him. His erection strained from his body, thick and long. She felt a glimmer of fear, remembering the pain.
But as if reading her mind Arkim came down over her and said, ‘I’ll make it good...don’t worry. It won’t hurt again.’
She looked at him and felt her heart turn over. The thought of this man not taking the opportunity to hurt her...she’d never expected it. She couldn’t speak. So she just nodded.
He carefully opened her robe and peeled it off her, laying her bare. And then he came alongside her on the bed and proceeded to do everything he’d done before, and more, until Sylvie was writhing, begging... Her sex was hot and damp, aching to feel him again, pain be damned.
‘Touch me first,’ he said hoarsely, poised above her, his powerful body between her legs.
Sylvie was nearly incoherent, her vision blurry. She looked down to see Arkim’s sheathed erection and put a hand down to encircle him. She lamented the protection—she wanted to feel him skin to skin—but even like this...it was awe-inspiring. He was awe-inspiring.
She squeezed him gently, moved her hand up and down experimentally, and then she looked at him and saw the huge strain on his face. He was holding back, going slowly for her. Letting her get used to him.
Tenderness welled inside her. She took her hand from him and then placed both her hands on his hips, drawing her legs up in an instinctive feminine move as old as time.
‘Now, Arkim—I need you now.’
She saw him struggle, and then give in. His body fused with hers and inch by inch he slowly sank into her. To the point of resistance.
‘Sweetheart, relax...let me in.’
The endearment made something melt inside Sylvie and she could feel all the muscles that were clamping so hard against him relax.
Arkim slid a little deeper. She felt so full...almost uncomfortable. But also...amazing. Arkim kept going until Sylvie could barely breathe and his hips touched hers. She felt impaled...but whole. It was such a new and alien sensation. And then he started to pull out, beginning a dance of movement between their bodies that Sylvie had never known existed. Just when she thought he was withdrawing from her completely he’d thrust back in, and each time it felt a little more imperative that he did so.
Her legs were wrapped around his waist and her hands were on his buttocks now, silently commanding his movements to be stronger, more forceful.
Arkim huffed out laboured-sounding words. ‘Should have known you’d be a fast learner...’
Sylvie smiled up at him—but the
n her smile got stuck as Arkim touched something deep inside her that sent shockwaves and thrills through her. His movements became faster, wilder, as if he couldn’t control them any more, and the delicious tension Sylvie had felt before coiled tight within her again, and tighter. Until she begged for release.
Arkim put a hand between them and pressed his thumb against her, and Sylvie couldn’t hold back her cry as she broke into shards of light and sensation. Her whole body convulsed with pleasure around Arkim’s, her skin damp and slick.
Powerful shudders shook Arkim’s body as he finally took his own release, and through the cataclysm Sylvie could feel the contractions of her body around his. In that moment she’d never felt so complete.
CHAPTER EIGHT
SYLVIE FLOATED ON her back, naked in the warm water, and looked up into an endless violet-hued sky. Early evening was practically the only time Arkim would let her out, for fear of the sun damaging her skin, even though she faithfully slathered on factor fifty.
The silky water lapped between her legs. Soothing the tenderness. She couldn’t keep back a small smile... The last week had been the most illuminating, mind-blowing week of her life. It had been an intense tutorial in the sensual arts, with a master teacher.
She’d never known... She’d heard people talk about it, but had never really understood just what they’d been going on about. And that deep-rooted fear of rejection had made her shy away from any intimacy.
Not here, though. Every night and most of the day Arkim laid Sylvie bare, over and over again, until she was reduced to a mass of sensation and lusting and craving—no longer a human being. He’d turned her into some kind of animal.
That thought made something tighten inside her and Sylvie flipped over, lazily swimming to the far end of the pool. She wasn’t worried about being seen—the staff knew not to come to the pool at this time, and used it only during the day.
She sat on a natural stone ledge in the water, the tops of her breasts exposed, and blushed when she imagined Arkim taking her here—pressing between her legs, urging her to wrap them around his waist as he thrust so deep inside her she’d have to bite down on his skin to contain her cries of ecstasy.
