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“Come on, it was my favorite part…”
My nose wrinkles. “What was your favorite?—”
“When you said my name.”
And the floor drops out from under me.
I forgot that part.
But it all comes flooding back now. I remember touching myself that night, and imagining Alistair as the one putting his hands on me.
Pinning me to my bed, maybe tying me up.
Calling me a bad girl.
Fucking me.
I said his name out loud.
…And he heard me.
My pulse starts to thud like a bass drum. My breath comes faster and faster, shaky and trembling as my skin turns to gooseflesh.
“Princess.”
I gasp, realizing in the pitch black that he’s right in front of me.
“You need to breathe.”
“I’m fine,” I blurt.
“Breathe.”
“I am breathing!”
“No, you’re shouting.”
“Because you’re bossing me around!”
“I’m trying to calm you?—”
“You’re still doing it!”
“Eloise, calm?—”
“Oh my God! Has anyone ever, in your entire life, told you how much of an ass?—”
I gasp as his hand cups my cheek.
“Will you just shut the fuck up?” he murmurs, inches from my lips.
And then there are no more inches, because suddenly, Alistair Black is kissing me like I have never been kissed before.
After that, there’s no holding back.
None.
In the ensuing explosion of clothes falling away together with inhibitions, and mouths and fingers frantically exploring in the dark, and him swallowing my moans when he first sinks into me, I don’t have the time or the wherewithal to tell him I’ve never done this before.
