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And I have to admit, I'm on edge. I am frustrated with Kirkman, frustrated with Trina or whoever is jerking me around on Instagram, frustrated with myself for even getting into the situation. I'm not a teenager. It's ridiculous to get caught up in this kind of drama.
“Let me see your nail polish,” I say, turning around to face her. She flinches again, but doesn't try to escape. She's very strong, resilient even. She's a fighter. I suppose I've always known that about her.
She holds her hand out toward me and I step closer. Her nails are bare, but still I circle her wrists in my hands, holding them lightly for just a moment. I feel the tender bones against my palms, so delicate.
She blinks as she stares at me, her lips parted. Her breath comes out in tiny animal gusts. I stare at her lower lip, thinking about what it would taste like…
No.
I'm just frustrated. I'm just beyond aggravated with everything and I need a release. I know that. This is not the right time, and this is not the right situation.
I try to turn away, and I feel a bit of resistance. To my surprise, when I look down, her fingers are wrapped around the fabric of my shirt. She's holding onto me, not letting me go.
“Dahlia, we can't,” I say, hearing how thin and hollow the words sound.
“I think we have to,” she whispers. Her voice is tremulous but convincing.
“Dahlia," I sigh again. What is she doing? She pulls me closer to her, but I'm not sure she understands what she's asking for.
“I can't be gentle,” I warn her. “That's not who I am. I'm not going to treat you like a delicate flower.”
“But…” she starts. Her eyelashes flutter ash she blushes and turns away.
“Dahlia, talk to me. What is it?”
“I’ve just… I’ve never… done this. I’m a virgin.”
My body clenches when I hear the word. Is that possible?
She smiles apologetically, somehow not understanding what that information is doing to me. I know I should retreat, but now I know that I can’t.
“That makes you incredibly precious, Dahlia, do you understand that?”
She shakes her head. “No, that can’t be right. I just needed you to know. But I’m not precious.”
I take her face in my hands. I need her to hear every word, to make sure
she understands what I need from her now.
“Dahlia, I meant what I said. I want you so much now that I don’t think I can stop. And still…. I won’t be able to hold back.”
“I know that,” she nods urgently. “I don't need you to be gentle. Be who you are.”
The words unlock me. She unleashes what I've been holding back for so long. I reach forward, pulling her closer, sliding my arms around her so that I can draw her body against mine. She gasps lightly as I lift her from her feet, sweeping her toward the bed.
There are no more words. My hands are in her hair, her mouth is crushed beneath mine. I want to taste her, every bit of her. I kiss her lips, the line of her jaw, the salt in the pit of her neck. I tear the skirt from her hips, flinging her panties to the ground.
She moans beneath me, matching every impulse with the long, lithe lines of her body. She flings her ankles behind my hips, crossing her calves and drawing me closer to her. I feel her wriggle beneath me and struggle to keep from plowing right to the center of her.
She's so supple, so willing, I hold her knee back and aim the head of my cock toward her, sliding along her ruffled pink lips, letting her juices coat me. She arches her back and moans, ready and wanting.
“Tell me,” I growl. Her eyelids flutter she opens her eyes, struggling to focus.
“Tell me you want it,” I say. “Tell me now.”
“I want it, August,” she whispers, the words unsteady and broken.
“No, that's not enough,” I caution her. “I told you already, I can't be gentle. I want to know that you really, really want it. Tell me!”
