“I want you to put it on me,” he orders.
I allow myself no time to think. Yanking down his boxers, I freeze, taking in the length and thickness of his cock as it springs free.
“Are they supposed to be that… enormous?” I ask, hesitantly. He smirks.
“No, Buttercup,” his smirk stretching to a full-on grin, “You’ll be okay though.”
Thank goodness for at least being there for Sex Ed’s “condom” day at my old school. I quickly sheath him, making and “O” between my fingers, and rolling it down his impressive length. As soon as I pull my hand away, he pushes me flat on my back, grabbing my ankle and pulling me down the bed to him. Wasting no time, he settles between my legs, kissing me until I’m so relaxed I completely forget the fact he’s about to enter me.
When he pulls away, my eyes remain closed.
“Sloane, look at me. I want to watch you… wanna gaze upon your beautiful face… watch your expressions when I’m finally inside you,” he demands. His words come with the dawning realization that I should probably disclose this is my first time. I’m stuck between the choice of being honest, or choosing the option in which I keep on pretending that I’m some sly seductress. I stick with the latter, due to the fear of him withdrawing, refusing to continue, and then completely shutting me out. He was already so apprehensive before…
Just tough it out, you can do it.
His swollen head presses against my entrance, and I try to display a look of pure lust, instead of the complete fear consuming me. It seems to be working because he slowly begins to ease in, all the while watching my face. Never. Breaking. Eye-contact.
“So tight,” he grates out, visibly shuddering before adding, “try to relax.” Fighting through the burning discomfort as I stretch around him, my eye twitches. When he suddenly drives into me a few inches at once, I can’t control the yelp that escapes (mostly from surprise). He stops abruptly, neither pushing further nor pulling out.
“You okay?” he asks, confusion in his voice. My teeth grind together while I nod my head, unable to say anything. Studying me, he slides in a few inches deeper, the pain becoming searing as he tears through my hymen. I wince and whimper, attempting to turn my head away from him as my face contorts in pain, but he catches my chin, eyes narrowing.
“Damn it. Sloane, are you a virgin?” he directly questions, voice tinged with disbelief.
Cat’s out of the bag now, literally.
Giving him an apologetic look, I tease, “not anymore.” He curses, the vein in his neck popping out as he grows tense. He doesn’t move, just remains frozen, mulling over the information.
Exhaling slowly, he eases into me further, and further, until the base of him is firmly connected to me. When he’s all the way in, he grits out “you should have told me.”
“Why? Would we be doing this right now?” I inquire. I can read the affirmation to my question by the look on his face.
No, we wouldn’t be.
He’s too much of a gentleman to steal his sister’s best friend’s virtue.
“So, you let me believe you’re somewhat experienced in the matter, seduce me, and were going to let me just drive into you however I wanted to? You do realize, some guys just take, pillage, and plunder. Not giving a shit if the girl has time to get used to them first.”
I flinch at the thought, but I’m still all in.
“Don’t back out now,” my voice pleads, irritating to my own ears as I realize how desperate I sound, all because one man broke through my composure and made my whole world off balance.
“It’s kind of too late now. Just so you know, I’m not sure I even would have backed out. I probably would have just been easier on you… It’s still going to be uncomfortable for a minute, but you’ll get used to it. Stick with me and you’ll experience something that goes way beyond satisfaction,” he informs me.
And the cockiness is back. This is a good sign.
As he settles into the idea of taking my virginity, realizing that he technically already has, his expression turns to one of awe. He slides out and pushes back in, still attempting to be gentle, but quickly picking up a rhythm. It’s not long before my body grows acquiescent, becoming more accustomed to his invasion.
Sprinkling kisses along my neck, he reaches between us, calloused fingers finding their way to my clit. The pressure there, combined with the circular motions, has my body humming in appreciation once more. He was right. It’s staggering, the many levels of rapture I ascend.
My body convulses in violent shudders and I cry out, but not from pain this time. Gray increases his tempo as I writhe beneath him, and if my body wasn’t still buzzing from to the climax I just succumbed to, the harshness would be too brutal to endure.
And if it was impossible, it isn’t any more. His expert kisses, precise thrusts and skillful caresses, have me climbing for the… I’ve lost count… I’ll settle for umpteenth time.
“Sloane, I want us to come together. Tell me when you’re about to,” he grunts out in between thrusts. I rake my nails down his back, and begin arching up to meet him each time, becoming more proactive as I lick and kiss his collarbone, careful not to leave a lasting mark.
His arm hooks around the underside of my knee, bending it and lifting it further up his side so that he can get a deeper angle. The extra depth does the trick.
“I don’t know how much longer I can hold off. Are you almost…”
I interrupt him with a resounding “Yes!”
He drives into me until I’m floating amidst a sea of stars.
Is this what heaven looks like? Because it’s definitely what it feels like.
“Sloane, I– so fucking gooood,” he groans, saying my name with reverence reserved for meeting the Queen. Only it’s not my name he uses. Not really.
Chapter Twenty
Gray
As I empty myself into the condom, I swallow the words I nearly choked out in the heat of the moment. I almost said “I love you.”
What. The. Fuck.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Sure, I care about her. Deeply. But saying I love you? I’m just glad I was able to recover myself. I’ve never, ever, said that to someone before outside of family and I doubt I ever will. Not only would it ruin our friendship, or whatever this mess is between us now, but it just wouldn’t be fair giving her the wrong impression.
My forehead tucks into the curve of her neck, allowing myself a moment to catch my breath. The aroma of her perfume, and my sweat, are mixed together and I have to admit, it’s not a bad combo. If I could, I’d bottle it up and keep it forever, pulling out to take a whiff whenever I want to take a walk down memory lane, to remember this night, the night of my ethical demise. Creepy? Yes. Sentimental? Also, yes.
Right about now is the time when regret and shame should start rolling in, only it doesn’t happen. I’m still just as satisfied as I was one minute ago when I emptied myself into that condom, just as sure of everything as I was once all the clothes started being removed. I wish I could stay like this forever, breathing in her scent, feeling the beating of her heart against my cheek. But I can’t. Rolling off of her, I walk into the adjoining bathroom, disposing of the condom and drawing some water in the clawfoot tub.
Opening the medicine cabinet, I grab the Epsom salt, pouring a generous amount into the nearly too hot water. When the tub is about two-thirds of the way full, I walk back into the bedroom to retrieve Sloane from bed, expecting to find her nearly asleep. Instead, as I walk through the doorway, I find her pulling on her shorts, her shirt already on. She’s facing away from me, and I take a moment to enjoy the view of her backside. Her silhouette and the curves of her body making my mouth water, and I realize something. Having her once didn’t diminish my desire for her, it wasn’t a “get this out of my system” type of thing. I want her even more now, than I did an hour ago.
She’s completely unaware that I’ve re-entered the room, and although she’s facing away, her stunning reflection is displayed in
the dresser mirror. But when I zero in on her face, I recognize the confusion and hurt marring her features.
Fuck me. What have I done wrong? Six or seven orgasms, you’d think she’d be clingy as hell.
She begins walking, no tiptoeing, toward my bedroom door. Only when she reaches out and grasps the doorknob, does she throw one last lingering look in the direction of the bathroom where I’m standing. Our eyes connect, and slew of unspoken questions pass between us. I choose to voice the one that’s easiest for her to answer.
“Where are you going?” I query, voice sounding a little too harsh. She flinches, and I immediately feel like the asshole I am. She’s silent for a few moments, choosing her words.
“I thought– I mean, isn’t that what you wanted?” She lets the words come out in a rush.
“Isn’t what, what I wanted?” I’m confused. She’s confused. EVERYTHING is confusing now. “Clarify your meaning Sloane,” I urge. She gulps, and glances at her bare feet which I note are painted the color of the Red Velvet cake we were eating when it all started, the shade she loves so much.
“Did you not want me to leave? You got up right afterwards and went to the bathroom. You said nothing to me… Isn’t that guy code for ‘you’re dismissed?’” She asks, finally meeting my eyes again.
I don’t know whether to be offended that she’s made the assumption I’m that type of guy, or pissed that she thinks I could dispose of her as quickly and easily as the condom we used. I stalk towards her. I very nearly pick her up and throw her over my shoulder cave-man style, but remember at the last moment that I’ve just taken her virginity and may not have been as gentle as I needed to be. I growl out the frustration building inside as I scoop her up like she’s a baby, eliciting a childlike squeal from her in return.
The hurt and confusion vanishes from her face as she beams up at me. Her auburn hair paired with a fiery personality to match and just the general happiness she spreads to me, reminds me of the sun. There’s another side to her too though. The darker side, the side that has experienced things a girl like her should know nothing about, in turn creating knowledge where there should be none. The side that’s determined to seduce a man, and succeeds in doing so. Staring into her silvery-gray eyes as I acknowledge her other persona, I think of the moon. She is one or the other at different times, and both at once. And I’m the Earth, needing both the Sun and the Moon to function. To survive.
I carry her through the threshold of the bathroom, and place her on the counter by the sink. Slowly, I peel her clothes off again. I may have just done this an hour ago, but I still get the notion I’m unwrapping a present and just like a present should be, she’s mine. No other man has had her. No other man has laid eyes on this beautiful body.
“I didn’t give you permission to put these back on yet,” I inform her. “In case this is our only night together, we’re going to make it count… But first, you’re going to soak in the tub. I put some Epsom salt in it to help combat any soreness you’re experiencing. You ok?”
She hesitates before saying “just a little sore but it’s not anything I can’t handle.”
“Oh, Buttercup, I think you more than handled it,” I tease her. Her eyes grow round for just a moment before she recovers. I’ve always been serious around her. Never shared the playful and joking side of me. Even though we just had sex, she’s still innocent in a lot of ways. Take the sexual innuendos, for example. She’ll just have to get used to it.
“Gray,” she admonishes, and I love the lilt in her voice as she says it.
“Sloane,” I repeat back in the same tone, as I lean my forehead against hers brushing a light kiss across her lips. I pull back, taking her hand and helping her down. She’s standing naked before me, and it’s different from being in bed with her. The lighting is much more functional and bright in comparison to the dimness of my bedroom.
As I drink in the sight of her, I admire the blush crawling up her neck and bringing rosiness to her cheeks, but it isn’t a splotchy red rouge. It’s becoming. It suites her. Her breasts are high and round, as I’ve already assessed, but even perkier than I realized while she was writhing beneath me. Her waist tapers in the perfect amount, giving way to curvy hips.
Maybe it’s rude to stare so deliberately, like a predator circling its prey. Maybe we aren’t quite at that stage of openness and ease. But, no man in my position would be able to tear their eyes away. She’s got the body of Aphrodite, but with the personality and intelligence of Athena, and innocence of Astraea.
She begins to cover her body from me with her hand, and I simultaneously turn my back to her as swiftly as possible.
“What did I tell you about hiding yourself from me Sloane?” I remind her.
“Um, not to,” she replies in a tone more questioning than factual, before she throws in “but you turned around so it doesn’t matter anyway.”
“That’s got more to do with the fact that I can’t pull my eyes away from ya, and I don’t think you’re ready for round two yet,” I state, hating the fact that I sound like a sulky-assed kid as I speak.
Water sloshes against the side of the tub as she lowers herself into the steam, letting a little “hmm” of satisfaction escape her lips in the process. Now that she’s not on open display for me, I turn back around to find her watching me with a calculating glint to her eyes. She crooks her finger and motions me over to her, licking those bee-stung lips. I tread confidently over to the side of the tub, towering over her when I come to a stop.
“What do you want babe? You gotta tell me… use your words,” I order her. Lashes fanning over her cheeks she glances down, and then dragging her eyes all the way back up as she smiles demurely.
“I’m not staying in the tub unless you get in here with me.” Her eyes burn into my own in challenge.
“I don’t do well with ultimatums,” I tsk, “luckily I was already waiting for the invitation.” I discard of my boxers, and step in to take the unoccupied spot across from her. We both grow quiet, closing our eyes and leaning our heads back to rest at our respective ends of the tub. The warm water settles around me, releasing all the tension from my body, but even that isn’t enough to distract me from wanting to take her again.
“Thank you for today Gray. It was the best birthday ever,” she discloses in sleepy appreciation, but suddenly jolts up with a sudden burst of energy, leaping out of the tub.
“Where are you going?” I whisper-shout as she retreats into the bedroom. She returns moments later with our leftover cake, pulling a footstool beside the tub, depositing the plate there, and stepping back into the tub.
“I thought, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach… The best way to recuperate after exhaustion is food… Sugar gives you energy. You know all those sayings right? I’m trying to get us both ready for round two.” She says all this as she shovels a big dollop of cake into my mouth before I can protest.
Swallowing, I nod my head in agreement. “You know what’s an even better way to a man’s heart?” I ask her, taking the spoon from her and feeding her a bite, in turn.
“Mmm?” her throaty voice inquires, her lips sliding over the spoon. I nearly lose track of what I was getting at, thinking about those same lips wrapped around me instead. Fuck, what’s this world coming to when I’m jealous of a fucking spoon? I lean in, slowly, and lick a white spot of frosting sullying the corner of her mouth. The flavor is even better coming off her skin.
Pulling back, I throw her my most sinful smile. “A gorgeous, naked, sexy woman, in the tub, spoon-feeding the man in question. There’s a new standard for that ‘way to a man’s heart’ expression, thanks to you.”
We finish off the cake, and I grab the nearby loofa, soaping up Sloane, and then myself.
“You still sore, Buttercup?”
“A little, yeah,” she admits. “But, I’m ready for round two anyway,” she adds, as her voice drops an octave and takes on a throaty air. When she crawls over to me, and scrambles onto my lap, straddling m
e, I’m more than ready too. I wish I could say I was gentle on her that second time, but I wasn’t. To give myself a little credit, she made it impossible, giving it back just as good as I gave it.
XoXo
Valley
The heat from the sunlight that’s now invading the room presses against my skin. I feel it for about a second, before soreness begins to assault my muscles as I roll over in bed.
GRAY’S BED! Shit!
We both fell asleep after he promised to let me rest awhile then wake me before it was daylight. I scramble to a sitting position, and turn in the bed to wake up Gray, but he’s not there. Lyra will be awake any time, and assuming she’s not under the weather anymore, will be looking for me. I’m freaking out about where he’s at, until I remember he’s a morning person, always up feeding the horses and chickens this time of day.
I turn in the window’s direction, and that’s when I catch my first glimpse of it. The fragments of light scattered across the walls, the floor, the ceiling. Everywhere. It’s so beautiful. My eyes hone in on the source… my crystal. I leap out of bed, making my way over to where it’s hanging in the window, threaded by a tiny ribbon. Where the ribbon is thumbtacked to the window trim, there’s a little note. Reaching up on my tiptoes, I rip it down.
S,
Your other birthday present.
-Gray
Emotion overpowers me from the sweet gesture. I’m so moved by it that I can’t even think straight as I finally glance out the window, spotting him immediately as he puts hay out for his horses. And ironic as hell, he looks up toward his bedroom window at the same time. He stops what he’s doing, abruptly, and stares at me. All the memories from last night come flooding, replaying back to me. We’re separated by glass and not even in the same room, yet my body reacts to the sheer sight of him. I raise my hand to give a timid wave and he does the same before turning back to his work.
Glancing over at the alarm clock by the bed, I’m relieved to find it’s only 7:30. Lyra doesn’t typically get up until about 10 a.m. on the weekends, so I’m kind of banking on that, hoping that it’s okay to keep hanging out in Gray’s room for just a bit longer. It’s like a safe haven and my own personal pleasure center, rolled into one. Plus, I’d really like to speak with him before I’m accosted by his sister.
Love on the Run Page 22
