by Maisey Yates
He reached up then, cupping her breast, his thumb tracing a line over the lacy cup of her bra, torturing the tightened bud that strained beneath the fabric.
Wanting him had been a strange kind of torture for the last decade or so. But this was the sweetest and keenest of all. Knowing that she was actually going to have him. Wanting to rush it, so that she could finally know what it was like. And wanting it to go on forever, because once it happened, it wasn’t going to happen again.
She was made of contradiction and desire, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.
He grabbed hold of her pants, a thick, insulated, stretchy black fabric that kept her warm in the snow, but had her far too hot now, and pulled them down her hips, leaving her in nothing but her underwear, which did not match her bra, and had she known that she was going to be losing her virginity, she definitely would have put some thought into color coordination.
“Fuck,” he breathed, pushing himself up onto his knees, his muscle shifting with the motion.
He looked like a wild and feral thing, and it was so strange to see him like this. This man that she knew so well. Whom she lived with, day in and day out. She was familiar with almost every aspect of Tanner’s routine. Of who he was. But she didn’t know this part of him. This secret part that made him so much more a man than anything else.
Sexual, raw. Animal.
There was nothing civilized about the expression on his face, nothing restrained there. It was like being struck with a match to realize that. That this man whom she had known for so long, that she had wanted for even longer, had been carrying all this around with him the entire time. Did those other women that he slept with get to see this? Did they know this Tanner? It made her feel unspeakably jealous.
She’d always been a little bit jealous.
Knowing that he touched other women. But now she realized it was more than that. It was the intimacy of it. It wasn’t just having his naked body beneath their hands, it was getting to see this. This part of him that only a lover could ever see.
But she’d also seen so much more than just this. She’d seen how he was with his brothers. How he was to her mother. The way that he treated his nieces.
The way that he trained horses, and the way that he worked the land.
She knew him in all those ways that his various lovers never would.
And now she knew this, too.
As if she had finally found the last piece of Tanner Reid and claimed it for her own. All the pieces locking into place. Perfect and hers.
Emotion swelled in her chest and she tried to shove it aside. Tried to embrace her arousal. Because that at least was safe. She wasn’t scared. Plenty of people had sex and survived it. She knew that it hurt the first time, but she also knew that so many people kept doing it, so that meant that it was worth it. No, she wasn’t nervous physically. Because Tanner’s reputation really did precede him. And there was no small amount of hype when it came to conversation surrounding his prowess.
More than that, she knew that Tanner would never hurt her. At least, she knew he would never let pain be the last word on their experience together.
She was confident in that.
No, there were no nerves. But there were feelings. And she didn’t especially want them.
“Let me just look at you for a second,” he said, the lust in his eyes taking her by surprise. The desire there so much deeper, so much more intense than she had ever imagined it could be.
She wondered how the two of them had managed to carry all this around inside of them for so long and never act on it. She really, really did.
“Okay,” she said. “But I think I like it better when you touch me.”
“I will,” he replied. “I promise you I will. I’m going to touch you until neither of us can breathe. But... You’re my darkest fantasy, Chloe. Nobody knows. I could never afford for anyone to know. Can you imagine? My dad would have taken me out behind the barn and shot me.”
“That would have been a waste. Since I wanted you to. And nothing about this feels dark or forbidden to me. It just feels like a Christmas wish.”
“That’s real nice. But I aim to make it feel a little bit dark and forbidden, too.”
“I’m okay with that.”
Those words came out trembling as he leaned forward, but he didn’t kiss her mouth. No, he kissed her stomach, his lips lingering there for a moment before taking a path down below her belly button. Her breath hitched. She didn’t think that this was the order of things. The way that he was moving down, the way that his fingers hooked in the lace of her panties and began to drag them down her thighs. She was still wearing her bra. Very clearly, in her mind, bras were supposed to come off first. But that wasn’t what he was doing. No, it wasn’t. Not at all.
She wondered if Tanner had any idea that he was supposed to be following the rules.
She felt like he should. All things considered.
But he was doing it, whether it was against the rules or not, and before she could protest, he had grabbed hold of her hips and dragged her down an inch or so, forcing her legs apart, fear fluttering in her chest as she realized exactly what he was about to do, exactly how close to her he was.
He kissed her inner thigh, and this time, she did reach out and try to push him away. This time, she did try to scoot back. But he held her firm, chuckling as he moved his mouth to her center, the groan on his lips like a man who was tasting an ice cream cone for the first time, as he slowly pulled the tip of his tongue through her folds.
She arched her back, screaming as he did, humiliation rolling over her when she realized how strong her reaction had been. But... Nothing had prepared her for that. She had gone from kissing, to him licking her there in a matter of only a few moments, and it was all just too much. It was all just... He moved forward, deepening the strokes of his tongue, bold and luscious, and suddenly not too much at all. Suddenly not quite enough. Because something had changed inside of her. Like a switch being flipped.
And suddenly, all of her common sense and any feelings that she had about propriety or the order of operations when it came to the removal of underwear had been wiped clean from her mind.
His mouth was wicked, and he was bringing her closer and closer to the edge, making her feel wild and uncontrolled. And she loved it.
Because this was Tanner, and with him she knew she was safe, even as wild and reckless feelings rioted through her. Knew she was safe even though she felt like she was falling. He moved his hand around, gripping her bottom hard as he shifted his other hand and pushed a finger inside of her, slowly. Very slowly.
She wiggled against the unfamiliar invasion, focusing on the magic that he was creating with his mouth. He was drawing her closer to release, closer still. And when he added a second finger, she was so wickedly aroused that it was welcome, rather than uncomfortable. He stroked her, teased her, made her feel like the world might come to an end with the appropriate flick of his wrist, and yet, he refused to give it.
He pumped his fingers in and out of her, and shifted, sucking on that sensitized bundle of nerves there. And the light burst behind her eyes. She outright exploded, her whole being utterly and completely captivated by what was happening. Wave after wave of pleasure rolling over her, leaving her spent and breathless.
She was limp, when he made his way back to her lips and kissed her there, leaving behind ample evidence of her downfall.
But she was too exhausted to care. He reached behind her, unhooking her bra and leaving her completely naked.
Another thing she was far too boneless and exhausted and satisfied to care about.
“You still have your clothes on,” she said.
That she cared about. Seeing Tanner naked. She wanted that. More than just about anything, right in that moment.
Her satisfaction was already starting to ebb, a hollow feeling inside o
f her. She had the sense that it wasn’t finished. She knew it wasn’t. That there was so much more for her to have. All of him.
He undid his belt buckle slowly, then the snap on his jeans, followed by the zipper, and she caught and held her breath.
She had never seen a naked man before. She licked her lips.
It was like her own personal strip show, and she had never really imagined that she would like one of those. She really liked this one. If she had a couple of singles, she might have given him one to show her appreciation. But in lieu of that, she simply watched.
He pushed his jeans down, exposing himself, leaving her slightly breathless with the knowledge of what was about to happen next. All of it. Displayed before her.
He was so large. Fully erect and very male, and actually very beautiful.
She imagined he wouldn’t appreciate her characterizing his body that way. But it was true.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. “I’m... I’m good.”
“Good,” he said.
He kissed her, flattening her out on the floor, his big body covering hers entirely.
“The bed started this,” he said, his lips pressed against hers as he spoke. “I think we should give the bed its due.”
“Okay,” she said, the word ending on a breathless note as he swept her up off the ground and brought them both down onto the bed. Naked. Skin to skin. Breast to chest. Their legs tangling, their bodies arching against each other in time as their kissing became more fevered. More desperate.
“I want you,” she whispered. “Please.”
“Just a second.”
He left her for a moment, and she felt cold. Bereft. He grabbed hold of his jeans and pulled his wallet out of his pocket, retrieving a condom before returning to the bed. He tore it open quickly, rolling it on his length with no small amount of experience and then returned to her, nestling himself between her thighs and guiding himself to the entrance of her body. He pressed in slowly. Very slowly, but it did nothing to diminish the stretching, fierce pain that she felt as he breached her, as her body began to expand to accommodate him.
She bit her lip, not wanting him to know, because if he knew that it hurt, he might stop. And she wouldn’t be able to stand it if he stopped.
She did her best to hide her discomfort as he began to move. As she arched her hips upward, trying to take more of him. Trying to take all of him. This was what she wanted, and she would not be thwarted by virginal logistics. He kissed her, and she relaxed slightly as his tongue swept against hers, and then he thrust all the way home. She gasped, unable to keep back the cry of pain that resulted from his action.
“Do you need me to stop?”
“No.” They had one night. One night, and she wasn’t going to waste a moment of it on letting pain have a foothold. She wasn’t going to waste anything. She was going to take it all in. And she did.
The feel of him, hot, hard and strong inside of her. The way he smelled, the way his body felt beneath her fingertips. All of it. The way he tasted. She buried her face in his neck and swept her tongue over his skin, the salty, masculine tang of him like balm for wounds she hadn’t even known she had.
He was everything, and this was like healing.
She didn’t even know what. Except that she felt...
Whole. Complete in ways she never had.
The only thing that had ever made her feel like this was the first time he’d put her up on a horse.
She supposed that was fitting.
Both times he had taught her to ride.
As pleasure rose inside of her, motion did, too. A great, swelling need that surrounded her heart, threatening to overtake the desire that made her internal muscles pulse low and hot in her body.
The pain began to fade, giving way to pure pleasure. To a deep, endless ache that he filled with each and every thrust of his body into hers.
“Tanner,” she whispered his name, and he shuddered.
So she did it again. And again, and again. It didn’t matter that she was a virgin, she knew how to make this man shake. And that made anything feel possible.
When he flexed his hips forward, pleasure broke over her for a second time, and when she cried out her release, he gave up his own, freezing above her, his length pulsing inside of her as he came.
And when it was over, she really couldn’t handle the fact that it might be over. Because she needed more of this.
Tonight. They had tonight.
He was breathing hard, jagged when he rolled to his side. And she looked at him, gazed at the lines on his handsome face.
“I need to know two things,” she said.
He looked stricken. “What?”
“Do they have hot chocolate downstairs. And do they have more condoms.”
CHAPTER FIVE
TANNER GOT DRESSED and went down to the lobby, and discovered that the answer to both of her questions was yes.
There was hot chocolate, and he could bring it up to the room, and they did indeed sell condoms at the front desk. He felt the need to make sure that the woman knew that Chloe wasn’t actually his sister. He had been met with a strange, enigmatic expression that he hadn’t been able to decode, but it didn’t matter, because she had sold him the condoms, and then he had gone back upstairs with two cups, a small paper bag and a decently sized amount of guilt.
No, he wasn’t going to feel guilt. Not tonight. Because tonight was all about that fantasy. Tonight was all about the thing he’d denied himself for so long because it was wrong on every fucking level.
But he had wanted this woman for seven years. And it was the sweetest thing on earth to finally have her.
He had lost his control. He had known that tasting her like he had was going to push her past her comfort zone, maybe even a little bit too early. When he returned to the room, he found her there, sitting cross-legged on the bed, wearing a pair of the most ridiculous, fuzzy-looking pajama pants he had ever seen. They were red, with white reindeer on them. She was wearing a matching long-sleeved top, with no bra underneath.
“You’re dressed,” he said, feeling vaguely disappointed.
“Yes,” she said, reaching down into the French fry bag and fishing out what had to be a cold, soggy fry by now.
“You’re dressed,” she pointed out.
“Well, I didn’t want to excite anyone downstairs too much. In this circumstance, it might have caused a riot.”
“Hmm. Yes, I would say you have a riot-worthy body.”
That shouldn’t turn him on. Dammit.
“Anyway,” Chloe continued. “I didn’t want to sit here freezing the entire time I was waiting for you.”
“Here you go,” he replied. “Hot chocolate with no small amount of whipped cream. And I put sprinkles on it. This is most definitely a Chloe hot chocolate.”
She glowed, and it just about killed him. “Thank you,” she said.
“And condoms,” he said.
“Very important,” she said.
They were silent for a moment. “This should be weirder than it is,” she pointed out.
“You don’t find it weird?” In point of fact, he didn’t, either, but he was relieved that Chloe didn’t seem to feel any differently. Or maybe, relieved was the wrong word. Maybe it wasn’t so much about relief as it was about not wanting anything to invade this evening they had set out before them.
There was a reason that he was baiting her with hot chocolate and whipped cream, after all.
It was a funny thing. To know a woman that he was sleeping with like this.
He didn’t, typically. Not because he didn’t respect women, or didn’t enjoy their company, in theory. It was just that his father had made relationships look a whole lot like hell, and he’d never been particularly driven to pursue them as a result.
“Thank you,” she said, taking a sip of the hot chocolate. “For this.”
“Well, I had forgotten to get you a present.”
She narrowed her eyes. “This is perilously close to you claiming you gave me a particular part of your anatomy.”
He shrugged, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. That was weird, too. The conversation after the sex. The fact that he felt in genuine good humor.
He shouldn’t. He should probably feel guilty. But hell, this was the thing he had been avoiding for a long ass time. Something that he had been trying to deny inside of himself.
And maybe this was confirmation that he was more like his old man that he had ever wanted to believe.
His father, who had never seemed to put much thought into anything, but had just jumped from relationship to relationship, cruising through that part of his life without giving deep thought to how it impacted other people.
He had tried to consider Chloe. He had tried to be better than that. Ultimately, this was the end result. But Chloe certainly didn’t seem upset. She had said she wanted it.
He was her Christmas present.
And that did things to his ego.
He sat down on the bed with her, holding his own hot chocolate, which did not have whipped cream and sprinkles, thank you very much.
“I think,” she said. “You should take your clothes off again.”
“Do you?”
“I do.”
“But baby, it’s cold outside,” he responded, taking a sip of his drink.
“I’ll keep you warm,” she said, treating him to a suggestive expression that should have been over the top, but left him hard and aching and ready to take her there and now.
“What about you?” he asked, looking her over slowly. There was something enticing about her in the pajamas. They weren’t sexy, not in the traditional sense. No lace or cut-outs or anything to offer a suggestive peek at her body. But it made her look cozy and warm, and made it seem like the best idea in the world would be to wrap his arms around her and hold her against his body.
