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“Fuck, I’m going to cum if you keep that up,” he said, grabbing my hip to slow me.
“I can’t,” I managed through panting breaths. “Help me.”
“Finger your clit,” he ordered, leaning up on his elbow. He wrapped his other arm around me and pulled my nipple into his mouth. He started sucking, rolling his hips under me at the same time. My face was burning with embarrassment, but I did as he said, because he didn’t know I was a dumb virgin. For all he knew, I was the sort of girl who did that.
So, I did. For the first time, I became someone else, not Gloria Beauregard as I’d been all my life, but Gloria Walton, a girl who could be anything a boy wanted her to be.
After a minute, the sensation of his mouth sucking so hard it hurt in the best way and his thick cock driving into me from below and my fingers kneading my clit pushed me over the edge. When I started to cum, he grabbed my throat and pushed my head back. I threw my hair back and let myself moan aloud, rising and falling on him as he thrusted harder, roughly fucking up into me. Suddenly he sat up, grabbed me around the waist and slammed me down, impaling me so deep I cried out. He held me pinned, grinding deep inside me. My core clenched withpain, but he was so strong I couldn’t move away, couldn’t get relief from the depths he was bruising.
A groan that sounded like anguish escaped him, and his cock throbbed so thick I choked with pain. Something flipped inside me, and suddenly my depths were fluttering around his girth, and little wordless cries of bliss and shock and pain rolled off my tongue. His cock answered each pulse of my walls with one of his own, his cum spilling into me in a rush of heat as my core clenched greedily at him, sucking him in as if he could go deeper than he already was, deeper than my body allowed. I wanted it, wanted him to tear me in half and climb inside me and wear me like a second skin. I never, never wanted to separate from him. I would live inside the cocoon of that moment of perfect completion forever.
For a minute, the only sound was our ragged breathing. My chest rose and fell against his, our skin slick with sweat.
“Holy fuck,” he said at last, his voice rough. “I think I actually blacked out for a second.”
He buried his hand in my hair, pulling my head back and running his tongue up the column of my throat, sending shivers over my skin. My whole body was trembling, little spasms jerking my muscles every few seconds. He gripped my breast, lifting it and lathing his tongue over my other nipple, as if making sure no part of me was left unclaimed by his touch. His hands roamed over my back, cupping my shoulder blades and holding me close while he sucked one nipple and then the other. His lips and tongue were gentle this time, somehow nurturing and soothing, bringing me down from the frightening power of what had just happened.
I’d never had an orgasm with someone else, but now I knew why people did this, even with strangers. When he was done licking the sweat off the swell of my breasts, off my throatand collarbones, he slowly lay back onto the mattress of the Murphy bed and rolled us onto our sides, facing each other.
Linking his fingers through mine, he lifted my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles one at a time. “Can I get a name?” he asked. “I’m gonna need a repeat. Preferably every day from now until forever.”
“No names,” I reminded him, my body starting to shake for a different reason. I didn’t like feeling out of control, and I didn’t like the emotions filling my chest until I wanted to cry again. “Can we just lie here until the party’s over?”
“Please?” he asked. “I’m not too proud to beg for pussy this good.”
“I can’t.” My throat tightened painfully as I thought of Rylan, of the promise I’d broken. This should have been with him, someone who would share the intensity, tell me he loved me. Someone whose promise of forever meant something, not this random asshole who just had his dick in someone else’s mouth, who would be saying the same words to her if I hadn’t interrupted. “I’m sorry,” I muttered, rolling away. “I’ll just go.”
“Shut up,” the guy said, catching me around the middle with his muscled forearm. “Now turn over and let me spoon you. It’s the least I can do after… That.”
In one motion, he pulled me in with his strong arm, lifting my entire weight to position me in front of him. He curled around me and tucked me into him in a way that felt both heavenly and strange, familiar and forgotten. Rylan had cuddled me all the time, but this guy was much bigger. I didn’t mind skinny little emo boys any more than I minded big buff guys, but damn. The way my body fit into the curve of his, like it was made for this very purpose; the way he held me like he already knew; the way I felt small and helpless and protected at once, like he was strong enough to keep every danger at bay, not just the boys hunting me down but the men who could storm a houseand erase your whole life in a matter of hours, leaving you with nothing but the echo of whispered promises.
“What’s this?” he asked, thumbing over the little dent in my skin on my lower belly, his voice drowsy.
“It’s a scar,” I said, tensing. It was a flaw, and if there was one thing my mother wouldn’t tolerate in our new life, it was imperfection. The slightest flaw could unravel our story, reveal our identity to our new town, make someone want to know more.
He kissed the nape of my neck, then flattened his hand on my belly and pulled me tighter against him with a sigh. “Goodnight, gorgeous.”
“How do you know I’m gorgeous?” I asked, staving off the vulnerability I felt with a front, an attitude that I imagined a girl who gave herself to strangers in the dark must have. “For all you know, I’m a straight zero. That’s why I didn’t want you to see my face or know who I am. Maybe I know you’d never give me the time of day at school.”
It was probably true. Not because I was a zero—thank god Mom had a professional makeup artist teach me to do flawless and flattering makeup while we still had money—but because I was a sophomore and he was probably a senior. Not only that, but judging by his physique, casual attitude toward hooking up, and skillset between the sheets, he was probably an athlete who has his pick of girls—and he’d picked plenty.
“Nah,” he said after a pause to think over my words. “That pussy makes you a solid eight no matter howfuglyyour face is.”
“That girl was right,” I said. “You are a pig.”
“Just call me Wilbur, baby,” he said, making little oinking noises against my neck until I was giggling.
He chuckled and snuggled me tighter, like he couldn’t get close enough. “Seriously, though,” he said, relaxing back onto the pillow and running his fingers through my hair. “Whoeveryou are, watch out for those guys who came in here. You probably already know that, but if you don’t… You really don’t want to get involved with them.”
I didn’t say anything, because telling him they were looking for me might give away my identity, and I didn’t want to do that. Not when he could spread it around school that I slept with him without even knowing who he was. The last thing I needed when starting a new school was a reputation like that. I already had a target on my back, and I had no idea what I’d done to get it. I didn’t need to hand them a reason on a silver platter.
My reason for being here returned, icing the heat in my veins. I lay there praying they hadn’t found my sisters. I was sure I would have heard them screaming if the Dolces grabbed them. I’d told them to text Dawson, and he’d probably found them and took them home. But I couldn’t relax without knowing they were safe.
I lifted my head and checked the party. The house was mostly dark, and I was sure the game was over, even if a few stragglers were left inside. Reality set in, and I checked to make sure the guy I gave my virginity to was still and breathing deeply. Then I slipped from under his arm and searched for my clothes.
I’d thrown myself away for nothing, to a nobody, and I already regretted it so much even my bones ached with it. I relished the throbbing pain between my legs as I bent to pick up my jeans. I deserved it. I deserved worse. I deserved the pain the Dolce boys would have inflicted.
Tears splattered onto my hands as I gave up the search for my underwear and pulled on my jeans without them.
