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She’d never thought she could have this.
She’d never believed John would ever touch her like this.
It was nothing like she had ever imagined it would be. She’d fantasized, she’d dreamed of this with John, but she had never in her wildest imagination known how good it would be. That it would rain sensation over every part of her body. She felt flush from her toes to the top of her head. She felt as though a fire was being stoked in her very womb.
Pleasure seared every nerve ending he touched. Riotous frissons of heat tore through her body. His lips and tongue caressed, licked, kissed. His tongue rubbed around her clit, stroking and caressing with silken hunger as it destroyed her balance and left her spiraling out of control.
She had to hold on to him. Sinking her fingers into his hair as he pushed her thighs farther apart, Sierra wanted to scream out his name. There was no breath to cry out, let alone to scream. There was barely enough oxygen to sustain her as pleasure rushed through her system like a fiery windstorm.
His tongue was wicked, destructive. His fingers pulled the folds of flesh apart as his tongue licked and stroked, blazing a path of ecstasy through her system as she strained to get closer.
His tongue flickered over her opening, a rumbling growl vibrating against her flesh as she cried out in pleasure.
“No. Don’t stop. ” She gripped his hair as his head lifted, only to release him as he forced himself back.
“Is this what you want, Sierra?” His hand gripped his cock, tucking it against the swollen, wet folds of flesh as he stared back at her.
“Please. ” She was shaking, the need was so great now.
“Please what, sugar? Please fuck you like the beautiful little troublemaker you are?” His words slurred just slightly, whether from the drink or the lust she wasn’t certain.
“Why, baby?” he whispered as he pressed closer. “Why are you even here?” There was a tortured, hollowed sound to his voice.
Sierra shook her head. “I love you, John. I’ve always loved you. ”
His hips bucked, driving him inside her, the sharp burst of heat, pleasure, pain, washing through her at his entrance drawing a cry from her lips as he settled against her.
His head fell to her shoulder.
At first, Sierra wasn’t certain why. He hadn’t penetrated her fully, just enough to draw that sharp cry, to tear aside the veil of virginity she had possessed. Now, he was silent.
Because he had passed out.
Sierra blinked up at the ceiling, fighting to just breathe through the incredible emotional burst of pain that flooded her.
He had passed out. As though this moment in time meant so little, that he didn’t even struggle to stay sober enough to keep awake.
Tears spilled from her eyes as she stared up at the ceiling, a sob tearing from her chest.
“Shhh, baby,” he mumbled against her neck. “S’kay. ”
He settled closer, his hips shifting, dragging his cock from her a second before the lightest snore fell from his lips.
Silent sobs shook her body as she managed to wiggle from beneath him, then she struggled to get him on the couch. Pulling his handkerchief from his jacket, she quickly cleaned the smear of blood from him, then cleaned herself before dropping the square of linen on the floor next to the couch, wondering if he would
even connect the smears of blood to this night.
She had dreamed of this night. Dreamed of him finally wanting her, and perhaps it served her right that it had ended as it had.
Kneeling next to the couch, she brushed his hair back from his forehead, the light brown strands thick, not overly long, but framing his face devilishly.
He was her personal heartbreak. For as long as she could remember, the love she had felt for him had driven her to impossible lengths to gain his attention. It had driven her here, to a night she knew would haunt her forever.
“I’d rather have you hate me than have you marry that bitch,” she whispered painfully as she wiped at her tears.
And he probably would hate her when he awoke. When reality surfaced and he realized the lengths she had gone to in ensuring his engagement was broken.
She wondered, though, if he would remember her arrival here, or the brief time he had touched her as a woman, rather than the troublemaker he had always called her.
