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“I know that,” I snarled, though it only made him chuckle. “I can say the word ‘cock.’ I’m a virgin, not a prude. There’s a difference.”
“Oh, God, babe. Don’t I fuckin’ know it.” His shoulders shook all over again with repressed laughter.
Suddenly, I was laughing too. Even as he continued to press kisses over my shoulders, down my chest, lingering over the small peaks of my breasts.
“I didn’t realize it could be like this, though,” I remarked as I combed my fingers through his hair. It was so soft and silky, like a pelt.
“Like what, Tess?”
“Fun. Funny. I didn’t think it—sex—was really something people laughed about.”
Michael’s full mouth curved lopsided as he considered the statement. “I think it only happens on special occasions,” he said before kissing me again. “With very special people who love each other like fuckin’ crazy.”
I pulled him closer, then back down to the bed so he was on top of me again. I didn’t feel like laughing anymore.
We lay like that, kissing while our bodies got accustomed to each other. Until my skin seemed to blend with his, and his heaviness on top of me felt normal and good.
His left hand traveled up and down the length of my side, exploring the dips and curves of my thighs, hips, waist. It covered my breast completely, squeezing lightly as he groaned into my mouth.
I gasped when his hips tilted toward me, and the solid length of him slipped between my legs, like a key looking for its lock.
“Oh!” I gasped. “You’re?—”
“I’m right here, baby,” Michael agreed before leaning down to take my other nipple between his teeth. He sucked lightly, and the shock of mild pain made my hips rise off the mattress of their own accord and grind into him.
Want rioted through my body and right between my legs as the tip of him teased my entrance. The world outside my twin bed didn’t exist anymore. Everything I could possibly need was right here.
“Are you—are you sure you want to do this?” Michael’s voice shook slightly, and the muscles in his armed flexed as he hovered over me.
I gulped. “Y-yes. Please.”
That delicious smirk reappeared. “I know you’re serious when you say ‘please.’”
“Do it,” I snapped before I could help myself. Then I yanked him down for another kiss and pulled him closer. “I need it.”
That seemed to be his undoing.
He reached to the ground for the foil packet he had dropped there earlier. The sight of one had sent me running the one time Victor had brought it out. This time, however, I wasn’t going anywhere.
I watched, half-curious, half-eager, as Michael rolled it over himself. He was beautiful, lean muscles straining with want, his tattooed skin gleaming in the light shining through the window. But it was really the expression in his eyes that had me transfixed, the complex blend of awe, desire, and, yes, love. That anyone would ever look at me like that seemed like a miracle. Even more so when I realized I was watching him the exact same way.
“Come here,” I said softly when he was finished.
And then he was there, poised at my entrance, as his lips found mine again. So slowly I could hardly feel him move, he eased his way in, searching my face constantly for any signs of discomfort.
“You okay?”
“Michael?”
He stopped moving. “Yeah?”
I grabbed his hips. “Just do it.”
Another second passed. And then he leaned down, kissed me with everything he had, and pushed all the way in.
I won’t lie. It hurt. A lance of pain that would have stolen my breath if it hadn’t already been taken by Michael’s soft lips. He held perfectly still, his own muscles quivering, while he waited for me to breathe properly again.
“Okay?” His breath was sweet against my face.
