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I thought his thumbs were driving me insane but the scratch of his jeans along my thighs turns every breath into something… erotic.
Before I can dwell on that, Zach grabs my face.
His hands are so large that they span my entire cheek, going up to my messy hair. “So, if I shove your panties aside and stick my finger inside you, I won’t find that tiny little piece of flesh that proves you’re untouched?”
I shudder at the graphic picture he’s painted.
Inside me. His finger.
Fingers that are tangled up in my hair right now. Fingers that are rough and raw.
I shake my head. Only I don’t know what I’m shaking it for. Am I telling him he can’t do it? Or answering his question?
“I won’t, huh?” He takes it as a reply. “I won’t find it.”
“No.”
Why am I lying?
His fingers in my hair tighten. “Who took it?”
“What?”
“Who. Took it?”
“Who took what?”
“Your cherry. Who did you give it to?”
My lips part under his hovering ones. When did we get this close? Not touching but breathing over each other’s skin.
Grabbing his wrists, I find my voice. “None of your business.”
His black eyes are swirling. “When’d it happen?”
“After you left.”
His smile is cold. “Did it hurt?”
I jerk out a nod.
“It did. Was he big?”
“Stop. Please.”
“Was he big or not?” He squeezes my cheeks, his fingers curled around my hair in a vise-grip. “Did he stretch you out, Blue? Or is your pussy tight as fuck for me?”
I have no idea what’s happening. I literally have no idea why he’s asking these questions.
All I know is that I’m flushed and shaking and quivering.
Everything inside me is… in chaos. The pounding of my heart, all the extra air that I’m sucking in, the tug in my stomach.
It’s like an earthquake.
I’m a victim of an earthquake. I’m a victim of him.
“He stretched… he stretched me out,” I whisper, looking at him with foggy eyes.
