A Girl in Black and White (Alyria 2)

A moan started in my throat, and I bit my bottom lip to stop myself, but . . . his tongue was so wet, so hot, my lip slipped out of my teeth. “Please stop.”

“Shut. Up.” He slapped the inside of my thigh. Hard. Before tasting me softly on a groan.

Everything after that was incoherent.

Curse words, blasphemy, Weston’s name—who knew, escaped my lips as the sizzles built to a crackling fire, sending sparks throughout my body. My thighs tensed, and my fingers curled in his hair, the feeling of a warm flame pulsing between my legs, curling in my stomach.

After a moment, the tingles drifted away, leaving me feeling weightless—and that’s because I was. My back hit the bed, my breaths soft pants, while I came down from the most intense feeling ever, ever, ever.

“Is this why whores are whores?” she asked, her eyelashes fanned across her cheeks as she tried to catch her breath. She wanted to talk right now? Classic Calamity. I was about to lose my fuc

king mind; my blood was rushing so fast through my veins I felt lightheaded. “Because if this is what it’s like, I might need to entertain the idea of the profession.”

Yea, over my dead fucking body. I doubted many men were dropping to their knees for whores anyway; though if Calamity were the whore in question they surely would. A jealous heat ran up my spine, and I shook it off. Everything about her made me irrational, which was unnecessary because it was my bed she was in, no one else’s.

Virgin, I had to remind myself over and over, so I didn’t completely fuck it up.

“Get the unpleasant part over fast or slow?” I gritted.

“Huh?” But then her head rolled to finally look up at me, clarity filling her dark, bottomless eyes. She swallowed, looking hesitant. “How bad is this going to hurt exactly?”

Did she think I deflowered virgins for sport? Probably.

“I couldn’t tell you,” I answered.

“Well, then I suppose I want it over fas—” Her words ended on a pained choke, her breaths cut off.

Fuck, so were mine. Wet. So tight. Too fucking perfect.

Sparks shot up my spine, and once I’d slid all the way in, I dropped my head with a groan.

Every inch of me screamed for more, to put my hand over her mouth so that I could only see those wide, dark eyes and just make her take it, but . . . nobody else has had her. And that thought alone sent a rush of possessive warmth through my body, enough to give me the strength to pause. She reflexively pushed against my chest, arched her back, and tried to push me out. And a dark part of me got a rush out of every minute of it. She was mine now. She couldn’t tell me no.

When the haze over my vision cleared, I noticed that a couple of tears had made their way down her cheeks. I loved when she fought me. I didn’t get a thrill from her pain. But the idea of some other man taking this from me, hurting her like this, it had all sorts of ideas running through my mind for the slowest death possible.

“I don’t think I want to be a whore at all,” she choked out on a sob.

“Good,” I said, leaning down and kissing her impossibly soft lips, tasting salty tears, “because you don’t get to be one.”

“In fact, I think I shall remain a virgin forever.”

A rough breath of amusement escaped me. “I think it’s too late for that.” The tightest pressure around my cock told me that much. Warm satisfaction shot through me, and I kissed her again before losing control and taking her just like the whore she kept speaking of.

Staying still inside her, I ran my hands up her hips and stomach. Her skin was impossibly smooth, softer than I’d ever imagined it to be. I palmed her breasts—and I’d been right: I couldn’t fit all of one in my hand. It had been my most thought-out mystery since Cameron City, and every time I’d been sitting across a campfire from her, fantasizing about this girl, anger had pulsed in my stomach. If she would have pulled up her dress and told me to get on my knees, I didn’t think I would’ve been able to say no. The idea that some ridiculous farm girl had that much pull on me, had sent resentment and irrationality rushing through my veins.

My skin vibrated with the knowledge that I was finally here, inside of her, in a position I’d put on a shelf as unattainable in my mind, something I wouldn’t give into. Because once I did, I didn’t think I could go back.

My heart pounded with satisfaction as I played with her breasts, sucked her nipples until her breaths went shallow, and her hips rolled in the smallest movements. This was finally fucking happening, and my heart thumped to an unsteady beat.

I groaned, finally giving into the haze, and moving. Her thighs tensed, her little hands grasping my forearms; her breasts grazed my chest, and sweet heat gripped me from inside her. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I moved slower than ever before until she could get used to it. My breaths were rough and uneven as I braced myself above her, only touching her where we were connected because I suddenly didn’t think I could handle any more. My skin vibrated violently just under the surface, screaming for me to go faster, harder.

The picture underneath me only made it crueler: her breaths coming out in pants between parted lips, her eyes wide open on me. I didn’t know how such perfection could even exist. But this ridiculous girl was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.

Her hips moved with mine, in little circles, a small moan escaping her lips.

“Good?” I asked on a rough groan. It was my way of asking, ‘Are you okay?’ but I couldn’t even form all the words she was so fucking tight.