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Something tugs deep inside me at the sight of him like this. It’s hot. A word I don’t ever use for anything, but seeing Arch with his fingers wrapped tight around his shaft, his throat stretched and his breathing ragged, that’s the only word floating through my mind.
Hot. He’s so hot.
And when I reach out to touch him, I find that he’s hard yet soft, almost velvety. But I can feel the ridge of steel beneath his skin, fear trickling through my blood at the thought of him pushing inside me. Sometimes his fingers can almost feel like too much.
How is he supposed to slide inside me with ease? I’ve read enough romance novels featuring both virgins and non-virgin characters and they make sex sound so easy. Even with the scared-out-of-her-mind virgin, which is who I am right now.
“Fuck, Daze,” he bites out at one point when I begin to stroke him.
I pause. “What? Am I doing it wrong?”
“No.” He frantically shakes his head. “You could never do it wrong. Just—you can go a little faster. Squeeze a little harder.”
I do as he requests and he groans, the ragged sound settling between my thighs, making me pulse. Making my panties flood with moisture. I stroke him faster. Squeeze him harder, fluid appearing in the slit of his cock’s head.
He grabs hold of me, his fingers tangling in my hair when he kisses me with a ferocity I’ve never experienced before. His tongue lashes against mine, circling. Thrusting in time with my strokes and I squeeze him as hard as I can, earning a groan against my lips.
“Feels so good,” he whispers into my mouth, his tongue licking. “Don’t stop.”
I don’t stop. My fingers move faster and eventually he joins in, gripping the base, his mouth devouring mine. Until he pulls away with a muttered, “Oh fuck.”
His erection jerks in my hand and he’s coming, semen spilling all over my fingers, his shaft pulsating. I watch in complete fascination, my gaze hurriedly switching from his face to his cock and back to his face again.
This moment feels almost…sacred. The most intimate thing I’ve shared with another person ever. I just made him come. After he made me come. We now share something that I have with no one else.
“I made a mess all over your hand.” He blows out a long breath, closing his eyes and pressing the back of his head against the seat. “There are napkins in the glove compartment.”
With my clean hand, I reach over and fumble with the latch before it falls open and I’m digging up a couple of napkins, cleaning off my fingers before I try to wipe away the semen still on him. He takes the napkins from me and finishes off the rest, balling them up in his palm before he tosses it in the back seat.
Then he’s reaching for me, kissing me for long, tongue-filled moments, like he’s channeling his gratitude for what I just did from his lips to mine. I cling to him, rocking against him, my clit on fire for contact with his bare skin though I’m still wearing my panties.
He eventually pushes me off his lap, his touch gentle, his smile full of regret when I plop back onto the passenger seat. “I should get you home.”
“Why?” I’m truly confused, my brain still fuzzy from what we just did.
“Your dad is probably wondering where you are.”
His words sober me right up and I worry for the rest of the drive home, nibbling on my lower lip, still tasting the ghost of Arch’s touch on my skin. His mouth. I glance over at him as he pulls into the long driveway that leads to Lancaster Prep. How relaxed he looks, how utterly in his skin he appears as he drives. Without a care in the world.
While I sit here and fret over my father’s reaction to coming home and discovering I’m not there.
“I can feel your stress,” Arch says once he’s parked his car in the east lot. Not many students can have a vehicle on campus, but of course Arch does. “Do you think your dad will be mad at you? Me?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “I’ve never done this before.”
I settle my hand on the door handle, ready to climb out of the car, but Arch is reaching for me, pulling me into his arms, delivering the softest kiss ever to my lips. “Don’t worry,” he murmurs, his gaze lingering on my mouth. Like he’s dying to devour it again. “I’ll walk you to your house.”
“You don’t have to—” I start, but he shakes his head, kissing me again.
“I want to.” His voice is firm and I can tell I won’t be able to argue with him.
So I don’t.
We walk back to my house hand in hand, the chilly air making me shiver. Eventually he wraps his arm around my shoulders and keeps me warm as we walk and I feel protected.
Safe.
If I didn’t feel safe with Arch, I would never do any of this with him. But I trust him. He seems to care for me and wants to make sure I’m okay, which is the absolute best feeling in the world.
