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It makes me feel like I’m not good enough.
Farwol turns back around and sees that I’ve covered myself. “Drop your arms,” he snaps sharply, and I instantly obey. He stalks toward me and grabs my hair, yanking my head back. He forces me to look into his eyes and I see darkness there. I see pain there. I see something I’m not supposed to see. I see him at his very core.
“You will not cover yourself,” he says. “You will not hide your body from me. This,” he pinches one of my nipples. “This is mine. These are mine. This body is mine. Do you understand?”
I try to nod, but he’s pulling my hair back and moving is difficult.
“Yes,” I whisper. “I understand, sir.” I’m not sure why I called him “sir.” I’m not sure if this is appropriate. I don’t know his first name, though, and “Mr. Farwol” seems strange. The word seems to do something for him, though, because now he’s the one closing his eyes and groaning.
“Say that again.”
“Yes, sir,” I say with growing confidence. “I will obey your commands.”
Farwol kisses me then: my very first kiss. I’m not sure what I expected, but it wasn’t this. Despite my lack of experience, my body seems to know how to respond to his touches, how to react to his tongue.
I’m wet, and aroused, and needy.
The kiss is an awakening. This isn’t love. It never will be. This was never meant to be love, but it is desire. It is passion. It is something much more feral, something much more powerful than love.
His hands are in my hair, but he lowers them, tracing gentle lines on my back until he reaches my bottom. Farwol grabs me and pulls me closer to him. I can feel his hardness against my belly, can feel exactly how much this kiss is affecting him, and I like it.
I shouldn’t enjoy this, shouldn’t want more. I should be afraid, and I am, a little. I’m not nearly as scared as I ought to be, though. I’m more curious than frightened. If Farwol can affect me this much with a kiss, what can he do with the rest of his body? What other things can he do to me? What else can he make me feel?
His hands move around to my front. He moves slowly, so as to not frighten me, I suppose. He moves with determination, with experience. He moves with a grace I don’t have yet. He moves with purpose.
Farwol keeps kissing me as his hands reach my breasts. Heat fills my body as he begins to massage me. I’ve never been touched there, never had another person play with my body like it was a toy, like it was just for them. He bounces my breasts for a moment, but then Farwol begins to move his fingers in small circles on them.
“Oh,” I whisper against his mouth. “Oh…” I close my eyes and keep kissing him. Farwol doesn’t stop touching me. Instead, he picks up speed, moving faster. He does other things to my breasts. He pinches my nipples and twists them. Then he holds my breasts in his hands and massages their entirety at once. I feel dizzy with excitement.
I didn’t know I would feel this way.
I didn’t know this sort of feeling was possible.
I didn’t know this could happen to a plain, ordinary girl like me.
Suddenly, I don’t feel like the village butcher’s daughter anymore. Suddenly, I don’t feel like the poverty-stricken girl with worn clothing. Suddenly, I don’t feel like the girl who fades into the background. Suddenly, I feel bright. I feel bold. I feel colorful.
I feel alive.
Suddenly, I feel like this is the moment I’ve been waiting for. This is the feeling I’ve been dreaming of. This is the experience I’ve needed my entire life.
My head spins as Farwol keeps touching me and in a fit of braveness, I move my hands to touch him, too. He tenses for just a second, perhaps in surprise, but doesn’t resist, so I allow my hands to explore his body, too.
I’ve never been close to a man like this. I’ve never run my hands over someone’s chest: never felt their tight body beneath my palms. I’ve never run my hands down lower, lower, lower. I’ve never gripped a man’s length.
I do that now, though, and it’s Farwol’s turn to groan.
“Don’t stop,” he whispers. “Whatever you do, Evelyn, don’t stop.”
Chapter 5
I close my eyes.
Farwol smells masculine: like pine trees, like winter.
He smells like he’s going to let me lose myself for a little while. He smells like danger.
I rub my hands over his body, exploring every inch within reach. Gradually, he moves his kisses from my mouth to my neck. Slowly, carefully, he nibbles on my shoulder. I’m not sure if I should like this or not. It’s a strange sensation.
