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LILY
Ifollowed Con as if in a daze. His fingers were wrapped tightly around mine, and something seemed to have shifted in him. When he pulled me to him beside the bed, his caress was gentler. He’d stopped raging against whatever force was pulling us inexorably together, stopped fighting my existence in his life, his penthouse, his bedroom. He ran his hands up my bare arms, making me shiver.
There was something I should tell him, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. He might stop if I did. If he knew he was going to be my first. He might make it into something bigger than it was and force himself to do the right thing. This was the right thing though. I knew it in my bones, the way I’d known that every boy before him who I’d come close with hadn’t been right. Hadn’t been enough.
So instead of speaking, I touched him. I took advantage of his new calm and ran my hands over the thick ridges of muscles that made up his torso. Smoothed them over his pectorals and over his strong, corded shoulders. He undid the clasp of my bra and slid the thin straps over my shoulders until it fell between us. Then he pushed down the matching panties, and I was standing in front of him naked.
That was a first in itself.
The sun slanted in. Funny how I’d always assumed my first time would be at night, in the dark. This was so much better. I could see every inch of him. The minute changes in the rise and fall of his chest as he drank me in. The way his eyes narrowed and darkened. The coarse dark hair that made a line down his abdomen. The quiver in his hands as he reached for me.
When he kissed me again, it was gentler too. Slower, even as he lifted me and set me on the bed. My heart beat wildly. It was happening. It was really happening. After all these weeks of waiting and wishing and wanting, I was going to have Con.
I laid back, pulling him with me. He was propping himself up on one arm, his other hand holding my wrist, pinning it to the bed. There was a cloud of pillows behind me, his warm, heavy weight on top of me. His knee was between my legs, his hard on like a rock against my leg, but neither of us wanted to rush it. We explored each other’s bodies with our hands, our mouths. I tasted his throat, nibbled on his shoulders, scraped my teeth lightly over his clavicle. His tongue was doing an erotic dance in my ear that I felt radiating through my entire body. Along with the sensations, emotions were rushing through me. Relief, joy, disbelief. It was finally happening. Short of the end of the world, nothing would stop me from making Con Walker my first.
When I flicked my tongue into his ear, his hand tightened around my wrist. “I need to get inside you,” he whispered, his voice sounding heavy and drugged.
I tensed as I felt him adjust, lining up his manhood and nudging it gently against my opening. I held my breath and gripped onto him with the hand he wasn’t pinning to the bed. His skin was damp with perspiration. He slid in, easily at first.
“You’re so tight,” he said thickly. “Fuck, you feel so good. I just want to–”
“You can,” I whispered into his shoulder, squeezing my eyes shut and bracing myself. He pushed the full length of his shaft into me, taking my virginity in one swift thrust. A sharp pain had me crying out, but then a wave of pleasure swept it away. He hesitated, but then I wrapped my legs around his, refusing to let him pull away.
“Don’t stop,” I begged. “Not now.”
With a muttered oath, Con’s control broke and he began moving his hips, harder and faster. The waves of pleasure built higher, wiping out even the memory of the initial pain. I gripped onto him tighter, moaning his name over and over, stretching around his cock, taking it deeper and deeper.
I climaxed hard, gasping his name, black tinging the edges of my vision. Then I saw his eyes go black, the irises eclipsed by the pupils as he came. His hips pumped once, twice more, as he emptied himself into me.
Then he collapsed onto me and we lay entwined, hearts pounding together. He would have questions later, I was sure. But for now, neither of us had any words left. We’d exhausted each other, and as the sun slipped below the horizon, we fell asleep in each other’s arms.
* * *
Iwoke up the next morning to the sound of the shower. For a minute, I was disoriented. Who was in my condo? Had Halley come back? And then the memory of my night with Con flared in my head, chasing out the fog of sleep. I rolled over in his large bed and touched a hand to the indentation beside me. Still warm. I dropped my forehead to the sleek, silky sheets and inhaled. His cologne was faint but spicy in my nostrils, and it created a visceral memory of his hands on my body. Sensation raced through me, but not enough to drive out the concern niggling deep in my heart.
What would Halley think?
The shower went off, the hard spray reducing to loud, pattering droplets. I heard the glass door slide open. I pulled on my dress and considered slipping out as quickly as possible, but before I could take stock of where the rest of my clothes had ended up, the bathroom door was opening. Con stood in the doorway, backlit by the bright overhead, a towel banded around his waist.
Our eyes met. His gaze was implacable and impossible to read.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.
Heat leapt to my cheeks. I hoped he couldn’t see my flush in the watery morning light streaming in behind me. “I didn’t want it to matter,” I said honestly.
A crack of emotion, quickly concealed. He tightened the towel. “I had a right to know.”
“Why? So you could use it as another excuse to put off what we both knew was inevitable?” I rose up to my knees in the sumptuous bed and put my hands on my hips. “Did you want me to go out and lose my virginity to just anyone before you were willing to—”
“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence, Lily” he said harshly. I could see the cords of muscle in his crossed arms tense.
“What’s this really about?” I pushed him. “Do you want me to have more experience? Should I—”
Con crossed the room in a few steps and grabbed me by the arms. His strength immobilized me even though the pressure of his fingers on my skin was carefully controlled. My face was beneath his, and his dark eyes bored down into mine. “Don’t ever talk to me about going out and getting more experience with other men again,” he said in a deadly quiet voice I’d never heard him use.
Though his tone and overwhelming physical presence should have intimidated me, I swayed closer. His chest was still damp. The droplets seeped quickly through the thin material of my dress. My nipples peaked and hardened as his hands slid up my arms, over my shoulders, up into my hair until he was holding my face between them. His words still hung in the air, underlined by the harsh rasp of his breath. I wanted to close my eyes and give into the sensations flooding through my body, but his dark gaze pinned mine, making it impossible to look away.
“I won’t,” I whispered so quietly that if there had been more than a few inches between my lips and his ears, he wouldn’t have heard me. It didn’t even occur to me to play games like I’d seen other girls do and ask him why not. We both knew. I was his. He might not be mine—not yet anyway—but I was his. I’d given him more than my virginity, whether he wanted it or not.
