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by Maya Banks
It worked because his gaze immediately smoldered and his hand moved from her side and over her breast. He added his other hand to the other side and pushed them toward one another before leaning down and running his tongue in a swirling motion around one nipple and then the other until they were rigid, straining peaks, begging for attention. His mouth. His lips. His tongue. She wanted him to suck, wanted to feel the delicious tug that she instinctively knew would blow her mind.
As if reading her thoughts or perhaps his restraint was wearing down, he tugged one puckered ridge between his teeth, gently grazing the ultrasensitive nub and then sucking the entire areola into his mouth.
She emitted a strangled cry, arching up, her hands flying to his head, holding him firmly against her so she didn’t lose the exquisite suction. A growl rumbled through his throat, almost a purr of pleasure that gave her delicious satisfaction.
Her fingers dug through his hair, reveling in the sensation of so much skin-to-skin contact. Her senses were ablaze, consumed by fire. His fire.
He very quickly discovered her pleasure points, knew just how to make her insane with the need for release. He discovered places she hadn’t realized were erogenous zones as he conducted a very thorough head-to-toe perusal with his hands, his mouth and his tongue. God, his tongue.
She was mindless, boneless, helplessly sliding further and further into sweet oblivion. So many times she’d thought she’d simply break apart and float away and yet he always seemed to know the exact moment to pull her back, preventing that free fall into space.
She was ready to scream, to beg him to give her relief from the ever-increasing tension, boiling, simmering, stoking and fanning until she was a seething cauldron of ecstasy. Just as she reached her breaking point and parted her lips, trying to draw in enough oxygen to voice her plea, he raised his head from his sensual exploration of her throbbing clitoris, dug his fingers into her hips, roughly nudging her thighs apart with a knee and thrust into her with one forceful lunge.
Her lungs caught fire as pain burned through her swollen passageway. Beau froze, his entire body going rigid as he stared down at her in shock. Her eyes were wide as she stared helplessly up at him as she processed the bombardment of conflicting sensations snaking through her body.
She didn’t know how he managed it, but he leaned down, so carefully and tenderly, and leaned his sweat-beaded brow against her forehead.
“Ari. Honey. Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispered.
“I didn’t know,” she whispered back, shock still reverberating through her body and mind.
His lips curved into a half smile. “You didn’t know you were a virgin?”
Her hands wouldn’t remain still. They glided up and down his arms and up the slope of his neck, her enjoying every bulge of muscle, each hard ridge.
“That’s not what I mean,” she said, giving her head a small shake.
He groaned. “I need you to be still, honey. I’m trying very hard to rein myself in, but if you keep that up, I’m not going to be able to hold back.”
“I didn’t think it would really hurt,” she said, stilling her hands and body so she was in complete accord with his. “I mean in books it never hurts. It’s always this glorious . . . thing. I honestly figured the whole hurting thing was a myth to discourage girls from having sex too young.”
He feathered a kiss over her furrowed brow and let out a sigh. “I ripped in to you with all the finesse of a rutting bull. Of course it hurt.”
She gave an experimental wiggle, gauging the now not so burning sensation. Or rather the burn was still present, but it was a good burn. She rubbed against him like a cat, locked her arms around his neck and then raised her legs to loop over the backs of his, solidly linking them, keeping their bodies connected so there was no question of him pulling out.
He was right where she wanted him to be and she wanted the edge back. That flying sensation, the about-to-catapult-right-over-the-edge free-falling spiral of need, want, lust and desire, all inexorably wound together in a seamless, never-ending chain.
“Okay now?” he asked, an edge to his voice that told him her movements had done to him precisely what he was doing to her. The wait was agonizing for them both.
“Yeah,” she whispered against his neck, turning her mouth to nuzzle and inhale. She began to nibble at his throat and then ran her tongue over the slight bristle of his evening shadow as she worked her way upward to his jaw and then she licked and scraped her teeth on a path toward his ear and when she sucked the lobe into her mouth, he let out a long hiss and he finally, finally moved.
She let out an honest-to-God moan when he withdrew with agonizing slowness, but the genuine tenderness in his care of her was utterly heartwarming.
“Hold on to me,” he husked out.
His hands slid down her curves, plumping and molding her breasts, weighing the slight swells in his palms before continuing their downward trek. They skimmed her sides, slid underneath her hips and then he cupped her behind and lifted her, adjusting the angle so that this time when he entered her, he went deeper, touching parts of her that caused her eyes to widen and her mouth to round into an O.
A really big O. Corny pun absolutely intended.
“I think I just figured out what a g-spot is,” she said in wonder.
His chest rumbled with laughter and his teeth flashed as a grin widened his face.
“I feel like a virgin as well,” he said in a rueful voice.
She reared back, planting her head deep into the pillow so she could look at him. “Not to completely mimic you but why on earth would you say a thing like that?”
He smiled again and playfully tugged at several thick strands of her hair, wrapping the tendrils around his fingers while squeezing her behind with his other hand, both gestures of obvious affection.
“Because this is the first time sex has been fun.”
He sounded as confused as she was about sex, which was pretty hilarious given she had zero experience and he’d probably been around the ballpark more than once. Surely a man wasn’t this great at sex without a lot of practice.
But she drew absurd pleasure from the fact that she was his first anything. However, realization dawned that he seemed baffled by the fun aspect.
“Sex isn’t supposed to be fun?” she asked in puzzlement.
“Oh yeah. It is,” he said, his voice laced with satisfaction. “You make a compelling argument for it being very fun. It’s just that I’ve been called brooding and intense and supposedly chicks are into that. I can’t say I’ve ever laughed while having sex. But you’re so damn cute.”
He chuckled as he said the last and nudged her chin affectionately and then pushed his hips, wedging himself deeper, momentarily rendering her speechless as euphoria swamped her. She danced along a razor’s edge, the very thin line between pleasure and pain as his fullness invaded her, stretched her.
Her inner walls rippled and clutched greedily at him, trying to prevent him from withdrawing each time he began easing back. She no longer cared about the vague discomfort because the sensual haze surrounding her, whispering through her veins, was as potent as any drug ever manufactured.
“You undo me,” he whispered as his lips brushed against her ears. Said so lightly that she wasn’t sure whether she’d truly heard them or if she’d merely imagined them.
She clutched the back of his neck and pulled him to meet her mouth, sucking his tongue inward just like her body sucked his cock deeper and deeper with every thrust.
“Need to get you off,” he said gruffly. “I want you there when I come. I want to watch you experience it all for the first time.”
Finally.
He was going to give in to her desperate need. He was finally going to give her the relief she needed so badly. Her insides clenched in anticipation and he groaned, a raw, tormented sound of a man at his very limit.
“Tell me what you need,” Beau demanded. “Let me get you there, honey.”
“I don’t
know!” she cried. “Just don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
Every muscle, every nerve ending, every single cell in her body was taut, tension coiling about to . . . almost . . . oh God, it was happening.
She hurtled through the air, the rush so exhilarating that it was akin to a downhill ski race, slick like snow, out of control. Faster and faster. Higher and higher.
The room blurred around her. The bed shook. There was a faint thudding sound that grew louder and the bed vibrated beneath her while Beau thrust into her from above, driving her deeper into the bed, covering her like a blanket with himself. Skin to skin. No barriers. No separation. Just time standing still for one brief moment when everything else drifted away and nothing or no one could intrude, could break the tangible connection between heart, mind and soul.
He filled her. Not just her body. He completely and utterly filled her. Her heart. Her soul. He filled her with hope. With confidence. With the knowledge he wouldn’t fail her. That he’d protect her from the outside world and would shelter her from the storms of life.
Her small hands pressed into his shoulders, her fingers curling and turning white at the tips as she held on for dear life. A painting that hung on the wall came sharply into focus and she stared because either it was a lot lower than it had been before or she was much higher.
It was then she realized the entire bed was levitating. Laughter escaped her.
“You’re not supposed to laugh right after a man just gave you the best orgasm of your life,” Beau said dryly.
His eyes gleamed with mischief, telling her he’d been intentionally arrogant in his assumption. But he was also right.
She grinned up at him. “I feel like we’re in The Exorcist. You know, the whole bed levitating bit.”
He kissed her, the soft smooching sound echoing softly through her ears.
“Or maybe we just rocked it so hard that our sexual energy was raising the roof. Literally.”
Her shoulders shook and then she hugged him to her just as the bed settled gently back onto the floor, jarring them just enough that it shook her hold on him. Her smile was likely permanent now. Never in a million years had she imagined her first time to be so earth-shattering, and her expectations had been high. And wrong, for that matter.
So good fiction was apparently just that. Fiction. At first she’d felt extremely let down, and well, she’d felt stupid and naïve. But Beau hadn’t laughed at her. He’d laughed because of her. Because she’d made sex fun for him. On a hotness scale, she wasn’t sure where “fun” rated, but it did odd little things to her heart to know that she’d somehow been special to him. Not just another woman in what was undoubtedly a really long line. Men like Beau never had to worry about forced celibacy. If anything he likely had to beat them back with a stick. And yet he’d chosen her.
That falsification jolted her back to awareness and her “permanent” smile just went south. She glanced up at his passion-laced eyes, uncertainty, something definitely not new to her, crowding in and dimming the aftershocks of something truly wonderful.
Beau’s body came down over her, concern flaring in his eyes. “Ari? Did I hurt you again? Was I too rough?”
“No,” she hastened to assure him. “I was just being silly. It’s nothing to worry over. It was wonderful.”
She was absolutely sincere in that regard. But Beau continued to study her intently, his stare probing, looking beyond the denial she’d hurriedly issued.
He bore his weight with one arm pressed into the mattress so he wasn’t too heavy and he had shifted his weight to her uninjured side so no pressure was exerted on the wound. With his free hand, he smoothed several wild strands of hair that lay haphazardly over her damp, flushed cheek.
“What were you thinking?” he softly prompted.
She sighed and made a face. “I’m not the most self-assured person and you’re going to think me completely absurd. But I was thinking about the fact that I was actually something special or at least unique to you. Because you said I was the first you had fun with. Then the thought expanded to the idea that men like you never have to worry about enforced celibacy and in fact you likely have to beat back the women wanting to get with you.”
She bit her lip, loathing having to admit the last. It was one thing to harbor secret thoughts. They were her own and she never had to worry that anyone would know her weaknesses. But Beau wanted access to those thoughts and the idea gave her hives.
His expression was still puzzled but he stared pointedly at her, obviously waiting for her response, and just as obviously knowing there was more.
“I got this really giddy feeling like a sixteen-year-old high school girl who just got asked to prom by the hottest guy in school. I thought to myself he could have his pick of women and he chose me. As soon as the thought came to me, I realized that you didn’t choose me. I threw myself at you, all but begged you to have sex with me and then made you feel guilty for turning me down. Basically making this a pity fuck . . .”
She flinched at her choice of words. They sounded stark and crude and she was surprised by them. That she’d actually voiced the last bit. The expression had wafted through her mind just as she’d mentioned him turning her down and just spilled out before she could think better of using it, and now she was ashamed at her language because regardless of his reasons for making love to her, it had been beautiful, soul-stirring, and she’d reduced it to a crude euphemism.
“Pity fuck?”
The words sounded strangled. Anger radiated from him in strong surges and she immediately regretted blurting out her thoughts in a single unguarded moment, a mistake she couldn’t take back and one that could very well completely wipe out an exquisite coming together of hearts and souls.
“Do you honestly not see yourself?” he asked incredulously.
He shocked the crap out of her by easing out of her aching, hypersensitive, swollen tissues and then simply scooped her up and carried her into the bathroom. Naked.
He gently set her down in front of the mirror and stood behind her, forcing her to look at her reflection. Color stained her cheeks as she took in her disheveled appearance.
She had the look of a woman who’d just been thoroughly made love to. Lips swollen. Eyes still glazed from the remnants of her mind-blowing orgasm and yet they glowed brightly, making them appear particularly brilliant in the lower lighting the bathroom cast.
He framed her body between his hands, one on either side of her, allowing his palms to roam freely up and down her and over her curves, to her breasts, holding them from underneath, thrusting them upward so there was no possible way not to see the puckered, taut crests, also swollen from his tender ministrations.
“You’re beautiful,” he said hoarsely. “But you’re the most beautiful in a way you probably don’t think. I’d say it’s obvious you don’t see yourself the way I do. The heart of you.”
He laid his hand over her chest, splaying his fingers possessively.
“Let me tell you what I see.”
She held her breath, yearning. So filled with hope and yet afraid to allow herself even a kernel of it when she could so easily be crushed by his rejection of her.
“I see a beautiful, loyal, brave young woman who places the people she loves before herself and her own safety. Not many people would be as selfless as you are. You gave me a gift, Ari. Do you realize how humbled and absolutely gutted I was that you chose me to be your first? And yet you don’t think I chose you? That I gave you a goddamn pity fuck?”
She winced upon hearing her words thrown back at her again. Because now, in light of his reaction, and all that he was doing in an attempt to reassure her, it would look as though she’d been chasing compliments from him. Ultimate female manipulation. And it made her cringe, not to mention feel hugely embarrassed and if possible, even more self-conscious.
“Not only do you sell yourself short and do yourself a huge disservice, but you do the same to me to even suggest I’d use my body as an object o
f pity. That I would pour my soul into making love to you, as you deserve to be made love to. I get that you struggle with confidence. But do not ever show yourself such disrespect in my hearing—or any damn time for that matter. Because you’ll just piss me the hell off.”
She swallowed and slowly nodded just as he leaned in to nuzzle her neck. Even as ultrasensitive as she was after her orgasm, her body reacted violently to his touch. To the sizzling heat that erupted between them when they got into touching range.
He rained kisses down the entire curve of her neck until he got to the top of her shoulder and then he simply pulled her backward, her back flush against his chest, and he wrapped his arms securely around her.
Their reflection presented such an intimate, erotic, picture in the mirror that she instantly committed it to memory, never wanting this memory to fade, to always be able to bring it sharply back into focus. Because it was one she’d never forget. A night of so many firsts for her.
He rested his chin atop her head, staring directly at her in the mirror, his gaze seeking. Evidently satisfied by what he found or that at the very least he had found what it was he was looking for in her expression, he gave her one last squeeze and then turned her around so she faced him.
He cupped her chin, his thumb whispering over her cheek. There was no anger or judgment in his dark eyes. Just unwavering resolve. Comfort and warmth spread through her limbs, infused into her bloodstream and rapidly pumped to the rest of her body. Euphoria once again wrapped her in its intoxicating embrace and she relaxed in his hold, allowing her body to mold itself to his. A perfect fit.
“Look at the mirror, Ari,” he murmured, his lips brushing the hair just behind the shell of her ear. “See how beautiful you are. Really see.”
Reluctantly, she turned and complied with his gentle request and what she saw surprised her as she looked at herself through objective eyes, as though it weren’t her, but another woman. It was as if it were the first time she saw herself without the self-imposed filter.