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My arms give way, and I slump into the bed. Only, he catches me. He pulls me up to my knees, wraps his arms around me, and holds me as the aftershocks oscillate through both of us. I close my eyes and allow myself to float. Feel the world tilt, but don’t open my eyes. I’m aware of him moving, of holding me close to his chest, his bare chest—he must have removed his shirt at some point—and I cuddle in.
If he’s being gentle, I’m not going to question it. I’m going to take every morsel of emotion he’s willing to share with me. If that makes me pathetic, so be it. I don’t have the energy to fight him anymore. He’s not only taken my virginity, but also every bit of defiance I mustered in the face of his mission to take revenge over the last few weeks. I close my eyes, and what seems like only a few seconds later, the sound of water running cuts through the layers of my sleep.
I peel my eyelids open and find he’s holding me in his arms next to a fast-filling bathtub.
"What are you doing?" I slur, and it comes out sounding like, “Wha-u-do-n?”
"Didn’t I tell you not to ask me questions?" His words are hard…but his voice? It has that same edge of something… That almost-tenderness I thought I heard earlier. I know I’m not mistaken—the look in his eyes confirms it. His mis-matched irises are pools of heat, and his features, for once, hold no animosity.
He holds my gaze, and when the tub is almost full, he steps inside. I squeak in surprise as he lowers himself and me into the water. Only when he has me secure between his massive thighs does he twist to switch off the tap. Silence descends, broken by the drip-drip-drip of the water.
He pulls me against his chest and whispers, "Relax." He tucks my head under his chin, and plants his arms about my waist. The combined heat of the water and that of his body sink into my blood. I feel my muscles unwind, the last vestiges of tension draining out. I close my eyes and allow sleep to pull me under.
When I awake, I’m under the covers of my bed, alone.
I turn to find him sitting in the chair next to the bed. The starlight pouring in through the un-curtained windows highlights the angles of his face. His jaw is set, his lips a thin line, and he’s pulled on his pants, but hasn’t bothered to wear a shirt. The muscles of his shoulders bunch as he locks his fingers together in front and leans forward.
"Why didn’t you tell me you were a virgin?"
20
Cade
"Why should I have told you I was a virgin?" She tips up her chin.
I tap my fingertips together. "If you think it’s because I’d have gone easy on you, you’re mistaken."
She gapes at me. "You’re an asshole."
"As we’ve established many times over. Still doesn’t answer my question."
She sits up in bed, making sure to tuck the bedsheets under her armpits. "Answer mine first."
"Getting frisky, are we?" I smirk.
She scowls. "One day, your ego’s going to be so battered, you’re going to regret every time you were mean to me."
I already am. And I don’t understand why. It’s not like I owe her anything, so why the fuck am I so upset about how I took her virginity?
I lean back, then prop my ankle over the knee of my other leg. "Not here to negotiate, Abby. Answer. The question.”
She pales, then looks away before turning her gaze back on me. “Why is it such a big deal? It’s nothing but a bit of skin. And honestly, I’d have thought my damn hymen would’ve rupture when I went horseback riding or took part in sports. Besides, virginity is an outdated concept. And many women don’t have a hymen so—" She raises a shoulder. “It didn’t seem relevant to me. It really isn’t important."
"It’s important to me."
"Why is that?"
"You haven’t let anyone else fuck you before me," I say through gritted teeth. "I’m your first. Do you know how that makes me feel?"
"H-how does it make you feel?"
"It makes me want to lock this door and fuck you until you’re not able to walk without feeling the imprint of my cock in your cunt every time you move. It makes me want to take every hole in your body all over again, until you’re spoiled for having sex with anyone else again. It makes me want to give you so much pleasure and so much pain that the endorphin level in your body keeps you always on a temporary high. Only, I’m not going to do that."
"Y-you’re not?"
I shake my head. "Because I believe someone like you probably had a plan behind what you did. Bet you held out for me with the explicit agenda of making me feel guilty for what I did—"
"Only you don’t," she grumbles.
