by Roni Loren
But then he backed off and something hot and wet pressed against her instead. Her knees almost buckled. “Oh, God.”
Donovan’s mouth. Donovan’s mouth was on her. The sensation of it was like nothing she’d ever experienced—every nerve ending in her body standing at attention and then sighing all at once. Her legs quivered as his tongue moved over her, coaxing and teasing her clitoris, making her loose and languid with the pleasure of it. Making her so wet she could die. Holy fuck. This is what oral sex felt like? She’d really been missing out. After a few more glorious licks from that masterful mouth, his fingers tucked inside her again. “That’s it, beautiful. Just relax and feel everything.”
He pressed another openmouthed kiss to her flesh and then pulled away and positioned himself behind her again. Unlike before, she had trouble accessing the fear. Her body was throbbing with this distinct emptiness, this need to be filled. She didn’t care if it hurt at this point. She just wanted it to happen. But when he pushed forward with a gentleness that belied his harsh grip on her, there wasn’t the expected pain. Just pressure. Tightness. She gripped the edge of the desk as the head of his cock breached her. The stretching sensation was foreign and a little uncomfortable, but she was so slick and ready for him that it eased the way.
She was beginning to feel confident—until he reached resistance and stopped. His hold on her hips tightened. “Baby, you feel so good, but I feel like I could hurt you. Are you okay?”
She wasn’t sure. The feel of him partially inside her was making her restless and edgy, like she needed more of him. But the anxiety over what would happen if he pushed forward had her muscles coiling. She licked her lips. “I’m okay.”
He ran his hand over her side in a soothing motion. “You have to let me in. You’re tensing on me. I don’t want to hurt you.”
She took a deep breath. “I’m trying but . . .” Shit. Shit. Shit. “Just go for it, okay? You won’t hurt me.”
She hoped.
He seemed to hesitate for a moment but then she reached back for him, gripping his arm. “Please.”
He thrust forward and pain shot through her—one sharp, shining moment. Her teeth clacked together, but she managed to hold back the sound. He held there a moment, his length deep inside her, and she breathed through it. Soon the pain faded to a dull throb, and she was left with this new feeling of fullness. She let out a breath.
“You all right?” he asked, grit in his voice.
“Great.”
“Mari . . .”
She heard the question in his voice, the concern.
“Please. Don’t stop.” She rocked back against him.
He groaned and pulled back to pump inside her again. This time there was no pain, just residual tenderness and the sweet glide of his body joining with hers. She let loose a sigh. He adjusted his position behind her and reached beneath her to find her clit. His fingers against that sensitive nub made any last remnants of discomfort fade into a memory.
“Fuck, Mari. You’re . . .”
The words were lost in the rushing sound going through her ears. She let her grip loosen on the desk and melted into the position. Donovan was making his own noises now—these sexy grunts and groans that were the hottest soundtrack she’d ever heard. And the sound of the sex itself was driving her higher still—slick and lewd and raw. She’d imagined what this would be like, but she’d never realized how all-encompassing it was. The feel of his thighs bumping against hers, the scent of their exertion and arousal, his rough fingers stroking her soft flesh. Every part of her seemed alive with sensation, her senses dialed to eleven.
“I’m close, baby.” His voice had gone hoarse, strained.
They were the simplest and sexiest three words she’d ever heard.
His hold went to her hips and he dragged her back on his cock now, his pace hard and intense, his need overriding all else. She could feel all that anger and hurt he’d been dealing with channeling through him, the jagged edges coming out, the need to wail on something. And it was glorious, cathartic in a way she didn’t understand. She slid across the desk, a rag doll to his strength, and her mind begin to fuzz. The pressure on her clit from the edge of the desk was driving her up another mountain.
She let loose a choked cry when orgasm crashed over her again, and he yanked her roughly against him, burying himself deep over and over until he pulsed inside her, a string of curses falling off his lips as he found his release.
He called her name. She called his. And they stayed there together until finally all the starch left the two of them and he slid out, leaving her in a melted puddle on the desk.
She let herself stay there for a moment, panting and trying to get her bearings. Then, deciding she wouldn’t test her legs and attempt to stand, she eased off the desk and sank to her knees. When she managed to turn around, she found him on the floor behind her, leaning against one of the other desks, gasping for breath along with her. Sweat dotted his forehead, his hair was in more disarray than normal, and the fly of his jeans was spread open.
She couldn’t help but look. But he’d already taken care of the condom and tucked himself back into his boxers. All she could see was the trail of dark hair that led downward. Sexy. Spent. Beautiful. She wanted to lick that spot. But knew she’d never get the chance.
She couldn’t bring herself to look at his face, but she could feel the weight of his stare.
“Tell me you’re okay, Mari.” There was something hard in his voice. Almost cold.
The shift in him sent warning bells going off in her head. She reached for her panties and tugged them on, suddenly feeling self-conscious sitting here naked from the waist down. “I’m okay.”
“Look at me.”
She forced her gaze upward.
Lines appeared around his mouth. “There was blood.”
“I—” She couldn’t get any words out.
He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the side of the desk. “Please, please don’t tell me you were a virgin.”
Fire blazed over her cheeks. She looked away and grabbed for her shorts. “Okay. I won’t.”
“Fuck.” The word was harsh in the quiet room. “Why didn’t you say something? I wouldn’t have— Jesus.”
Anger and embarrassment rose up in her like a high tide, taking her under. She tugged on her shorts. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it matters!” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Christ. How can you be a virgin? The stuff you wrote into the fantasies, the stuff we talked about . . .”
“Nonvirgins don’t have the monopoly on dirty minds.”
“God, Mari.” He reached for her hand and tugged her toward him. Reluctantly, she let him guide her closer. He gathered her into his embrace, tucking her head beneath his chin. “That’s something you should tell a guy. I could’ve hurt you. I would never have been so rough or done it that way. Your first time should be gentle and with someone who—”
“Who what? Who loves me?” The words came out flat. “I’m not that old-fashioned.”
“I was going to say with someone who’s worth the trouble.” His tone was hollow. “Not with some guy who’s so fucked up he can’t even sleep at his own house without panicking about people breaking in. Or who has to work nonstop because he can’t fucking function otherwise. You deserve more than what I’m capable of giving you. This is all I’ve got, Mari. A hookup.”
The words sliced through her. He’d called it what it was. It wasn’t anything she didn’t know, but it stung to hear it just as well. “Believe me. I’m not expecting you to give me a ring or anything. I like you and wanted this to happen tonight. It doesn’t have to be more complicated than that.”
He blew out a long breath. “Let me at least take you out to dinner. There’s a twenty-four-hour diner right off campus. I know neither of us is going to get any more work done tonight. We can talk.”
The offer was so tempting. Everything inside her wanted to go out with Donovan, wanted to get to know him
better, wanted to keep this night going. But she’d dug the hole too deep now. She’d taken the lie too far. And this was probably only a pity offer anyway—coddle the poor girl who’d lost her virginity so she didn’t freak out over her big night being only a hookup.
She closed her eyes, the reality of the situation swamping her. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
She scooted out of his hold and stood on shaky legs. “I just can’t. I need to go.”
She hooked her bra back together beneath her shirt and grabbed her backpack.
“What?” He scrambled to his feet as he zipped up his jeans. “Mari, hold up.”
It wasn’t even her real name. How fucking pathetic had she let this become? She walked over to him and pressed the thumb drive into his hand. “Thank you. This week has been . . .” Everything. “Great.”
He frowned. “Please don’t leave. You don’t need to do that.”
She gave him a sad smile. “I really do.”
She walked past him and forced herself not to look back, not to let him see the truth on her face, not to let it hurt so much.
I could love you, Donovan West. Maybe she already did.
But she wasn’t Mari the grad student and this wasn’t her real life and she didn’t get to have this kind of ending.
Marin managed to walk away and make it to the car before any tears escaped. She’d known this had a time limit from the start. She’d never expected it to go this far, but she refused to regret it. She’d taken a risk and it’d been okay. She hadn’t tumbled into the mental spin her mom did when she got involved with men. She hadn’t fallen apart. And she’d never forget this week or this night.
She hated that she’d lied, but maybe she could spare Donovan ever knowing that he’d slept with an eighteen-year-old student. She could be that mystery girl he once hooked up with, and go on with his life. No harm, no foul.
They’d both survive.
By the time she parked in her driveway, she’d pulled herself together enough to make a plan. She’d drop the sexuality class and stop subbing in the sleep department. She wouldn’t see Donovan again. He’d never have to know. And she wouldn’t have to feel the loss every time she laid eyes on him.
She was feeling resolute about the plan. It would all work out. But when she walked into her house a few minutes later and saw the trail of blood on the floor and the small, crumpled body in the corner, she found out the planning was for naught.
Because her whole world was about to fall apart around her.
And she wasn’t going to have to worry about boy trouble for a very, very long time.
4
Nine years later—present day
Marin woke up to the sound of hushed voices and the envelope of the overdue electric bill stuck to her face. She lifted her head, peeling the envelope away, and blinked in the lamplight of her bedroom, trying to get her bearings. Night still hummed along outside her window, black and quiet, and her laptop was silent beside her on the bed along with the king-sized bag of M&M’s she’d polished off in her stress-induced haze. But something had woken her up. Voices. She’d heard voices.
She cringed. Hearing voices was never a good sign in this family. Now would be a really inconvenient time for a mental breakdown. But when a thump and a muffled curse sounded down the hall, she let out a breath. Nate must be home.
Marin rubbed her eyes and checked the clock. Two in the morning. Way past curfew. He was trying to sneak in. Too bad he was such a fail at stealth mode. She shoved the pile of bills to the side of her bed, knocking a stack of research articles to the floor in the process, and sat up. Her bones popped and protested as she climbed off the bed.
Ugh. She needed to stop falling asleep in weird positions. But she’d been trying to stay awake to make sure her brother got in. Now she’d have to have a talk with him about curfew. She let out a heavy sigh. Sometimes she hated having to be the grown-up. She should be the one sneaking in at two in the morning.
She pulled a sweatshirt over her tank top and headed down the hallway. Muted light spilled from beneath Nate’s doorway, and she tapped lightly on the wood. But there was no response, just this other subtle sound. She leaned forward, straining. A raspy breath, almost a choking sound. Shit. Her heart jumped into her throat. Nathan was having an asthma attack.
“Nate.” The word came out in a panic and she shoved open the door. “Are you okay?”
But she froze one step inside the room because instead of finding her younger brother struggling for breath from asthma, she found him gasping for breath from what the guy parked between his legs was doing to him.
Nate’s eyes went wide and he grabbed at his quilt, trying to yank it up over himself and his boyfriend. “Oh my God, get out!”
“Shit. Oh, shit. Sorry.” Marin swung the door shut, her heart hammering and her face going hot. She leaned against the wall in the hallway and put her hand over her eyes, trying to erase the image. But there were some things you couldn’t unsee. Her younger brother getting a blow job—yeah, that she could’ve skipped. She wanted to scrub her eyeballs with bleach.
There was rustling behind the door, hurried voices as the boys apparently got themselves together, and Marin slipped back into her room to give them space. She’d need to address this with Nathan. He knew he wasn’t supposed to have guys in his room. But she’d give him a minute to get Henry out the door and put himself back together. Hell, she needed a minute. Maybe a week. A year might be good.
But her brother didn’t give her that long. After the front door slammed shut, Nate stormed back down the hallway and pushed her door open. It hit the wall with a bang. “What the hell, Marin?”
He looked so tall in the doorway, so adult. How was this the same kid who used to make her turn on four different night-lights in his room so he could go to sleep? At seventeen, he could pass for a grown man with those long limbs and broad shoulders—but he still had those innocent green eyes. His age showed there. And right now, those eyes were burning with annoyance.
“I thought you were having an asthma attack,” she said. “I heard—”
His face flushed to his hairline.
“Well, never mind what I heard, but I thought you needed help. I wouldn’t have been checking on you at all if you had been in by curfew and not broken the rules about bringing someone into your room,” she said, forcing righteous indignation into her voice and trying to sound like she meant it.
“Okay, I broke the rules. I’m sorry. But you can’t just walk into my room. I need privacy.”
She held up a hand. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. I would’ve never walked in for any other reason.”
He blew out a breath, his eyes flicking to the piles of books and paperwork on her bed. “And you don’t need to wait up for me. I’m fine. I’m not out drinking or getting high or doing anything dangerous.”
“Just having unprotected sex in your room.”
He groaned and raked a hand over his face. “I’m not . . . We’re not. I haven’t. We were just fooling around. It wasn’t going to go beyond that. And if it did, believe me, I know to be safe. You’ve already made us get tested. And it’s not like I’m going to get him pregnant.”
She stared at him for a moment and then picked up a pillow to throw at him.
He caught it and grinned as he dropped it to the floor. “Look, I know if I contracted some horrible STD that the irony of that would literally make your head explode. I wouldn’t do that to you, Mar.”
Marin sighed. The irony would be deadly. She’d spent the last two years of her Ph.D. program and this past year in her postdoc position creating and testing a sex education program for gay youth. If her own brother didn’t know how to take care of his sexual health, she really would be a serious fail. “You wouldn’t have to worry about the STD because I would kill you.”
“I know. And I’m sorry you saw what you saw. But I wanted to celebrate tonight, so me and Henry went to a party. When it started getting kind of crazy, we baile
d and came here instead. We weren’t doing anything we haven’t before. I just forgot how noisy . . . things can get.”
Marin lifted a hand. “I really don’t need to know the details. And don’t want to hear about your noises. Believe me, I heard enough.”
“Wait. Are you blushing?” He laughed. “Dude, I’m the one who got walked in on.”
“And I’m the one who had to see.”
He smirked. “Aw, Mar, how is it possible you’re such a prude? You’re like a doctor of sex, and you get all red at the thought that people are actually out there doing it. You realize how screwed up that is, right?”
“I’m not a sex doctor. I’m a researcher. And I don’t get red over people doing it. I get red at the thought of my baby brother doing it. You’re still supposed to be wearing Underoos and those caped pajamas you used to live in.”
He tucked his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Those Superman pajamas were pretty kickass, but I’m not a kid anymore, Mar. You’re gonna have to learn to trust me at some point.”
She sighed. “I know that. Of course I know that.”
“Especially since I’m going to be living in New Orleans in the fall.”
Marin stilled, the words a record scratch to her train of thought. “What?”
His smile went wide. “See. That’s what I was celebrating. The Duplais Art College called me today. I got in.”
She blinked, the words taking a second to register. “Duplais? Are you serious? You got in?”
He nodded and rocked onto his toes, his excitement bubbling out of him. “Totally did.”
“Nate!” She hopped to her feet and went over to hug him. “They said it was next to impossible to get in there.”
He squeezed her back. “Right? But they loved that I used street art style in the portraits and that I do mixed-media stuff, said I show a lot of potential.”
Her head was whirling. “That’s amazing. I’m so freaking proud of you!”
He leaned back, his smile going goofy and lopsided, making him look like the kid she loved. “Thanks. I can’t even believe it. I’m sure I sounded like an idiot on the phone because I kept asking them to repeat themselves. It sounded too good to be true. But they said they’d send me an intro packet and email you the info about the financial package.”
