Page 7

“Tell me if you want to stop,” I say against her throat. “Any second. You start it, you stop it. Tonight I’m yours to start.”

She fists my collar again. “Don’t you dare stop.”

The thick rug she uses for story hours is soft under my knees. The low orange light from the horror shelf up front barely reaches us here, just enough to see the soot on her skin and the way her eyes stay open on mine.

“Audriana.” I brace over her on one forearm, the other hand tracing the clean line I left on her jaw. “Before this goes any further, I need to hear it from you. You’ve never done this?”

Her breath catches, but she doesn’t look away. “No.”

I already knew. The way she holds still under my hands, the careful way she answers, the armor she’s worn like a second skin until tonight. I let the confirmation settle deep in my chest, protective and fierce all at once.

“Good girl for telling me.” I brush my mouth over hers. “My girl. You’re safe with me. You hear? I’m going to take care of you. You’re going to feel everything, and you’re going to come for me before I ever get inside you. That’s how this starts. You understand?”

She nods. “Yes.”

“Use your words when I ask. Tell me if anything’s too much. You start it, you stop it. But until you do—” I run my hand down her left side, past the whole row of jet buttons that won’t give, and find the seam that does—the hidden zip tucked into the side of the gown. One slow pull, and the severe black lets go all at once, the way it was built to. I ease it off her shoulders, down her arms, and she lifts her hips so I can draw the heavy fabric the rest of the way down and off. “—you’re mine to look after.”

Her underwear follows. I settle between her knees and look my fill for the first time.

She’s all soft lines and pale skin in the orange half-dark—small, full breasts with tight pink nipples, the gentle curve of her waist flaring into hips I can already span with both hands. There’s a faint freckle high on the inside of one thigh and another just below her left breast—marks no one else has ever been allowed to see.

She’s beautiful in the quiet, almost fragile way that makes my chest ache and my cock throb at the same time. My girl. Naked for me. Nowhere left to hide.

I open her with my thumbs, careful, deliberate. She’s already wet, and the sight of it punches the air out of me.

“Fuck, look at you.”

I lean in and drag the flat of my tongue through her folds once, slow and thorough. She gasps, hips twitching. I do it again, then seal my mouth over her clit and suck gently.

“Oh—yes⁠—”

“That’s it. Let me hear you.” I work her with my tongue, circling, then longer strokes, two fingers easing inside her just to the first knuckle. She’s tight—so tight I have to force myself to stay gentle. “My sweet virgin. You taste like you were made for this. Made for me.”

She moans, one hand fisting the cushion beside her head. I hum against her, and the sound vibrates through her. Her thighs start to shake.

“That’s my girl. Take it. Let it build.” I curl my fingers and find the spot that makes her cry out, then lock my lips around her clit and suck in a steady rhythm. “Come on my tongue first. Give it to me. I want to feel you break open for me before I ever fuck you.”

She’s loud now—broken little sounds turning into full moans that echo off the shelves. I keep the pressure exact, relentless, praising her between every stroke.

“So wet for me already. Perfect. You’re doing so well. Just like that—don’t hold it back. Come for me, Audriana. Come right now.”

She does. Her whole body arches, a sharp cry ripping out of her as she pulses around my fingers. I keep licking her through it, slower and softer, until the tremors ease and she’s gasping my name like a prayer.

I crawl back up her body and sit back on my heels between her spread thighs. She’s still trembling, watching me with those dazed, dark eyes.

“Stay right there,” I tell her, voice low. “I want you looking at me while I get out of this.”

I get to my feet. The boots first, one at a time, the solid thud of each one hitting the rug loud in the quiet shop. Then the suspenders, shrugged off my shoulders so the heavy bunker pants finally sag loose, and I shove them and the base-layer pants beneath them down and kick the whole heap aside, leaving me in the soot-streaked shirt and the compression shorts that are doing nothing to hide how hard I am for her.

I strip the shirt over my head next, the fabric catching on the sweat and ash still clinging to my skin. When I drop it, her gaze tracks over my chest, my stomach, the dark line of hair that disappears into the waistband of the shorts. I hook my thumbs there and push them down, stepping free, and finally, I’m bare in front of her.

“There,” I say, kneeling again, settling between her thighs so the head of my cock slides through her slickness. “All of it off. Nothing between us now.”

I take her face in both hands and look her in the eye.

“I’m going to push in slowly,” I say. “You’re going to feel every inch. Breathe with me. If it hurts too much, you say so, and I stop. But I think you’re going to take me so well, my girl.”

I press forward. The tight heat of her almost undoes me. She makes a high, startled sound, and I freeze.