Untouchable (Untouchables, 1)

Instead, I’m invaded by something larger. My heart stalls at the realization that has to be the head of his cock. Inside me.

“Carter, you promised,” I say quickly.

“I’m not going to fuck you,” he assures me just as quickly, to calm me down. “I want to, I really want to, but if you don’t want me to, I won’t.”

I swallow, wanting to believe him, but… he’s inside me, and he shouldn’t be. “What are you doing?”

Rather than answer me right away with words, he rubs the tip of his cock against my clit. The friction makes me jump like his tongue did. “I don’t suggest you fight me while I do this, princess,” he tells me, his tone even as he slides his cock lower, slipping just the head of his cock inside me. “You struggle and I might go deeper than I intend to.”

I swallow, deliberately still while my heart hammers in my chest. It’s the strangest sensation as he pulls out and rocks into me again. I know I shouldn’t, but my body tries to draw him deeper inside. I don’t know how much I can move without him slipping—and it’s not lost on me that he could just pretend to slip. Once he’s inside me, it’s not like I’m going to make him stop. It’s not like I’m sure he would, even if I told him to.

He pulls out and my cheeks burn at the wet sound of it. “You probably shouldn’t be doing that without a condom on,” I tell him.

“I’m clean, and you’re a virgin,” he replies, rubbing his cock up and down my entrance. Then, with dark amusement, he adds, “At least for a few more minutes.”

“Not funny,” I reprimand, wishing I could see better.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he asks.

It does feel good. I like the feel of his smooth head rubbing against me, but I could live without the stress of wondering if he’s going to take more than I said he could.

“Would you hate me if I fucked you right now?” he asks.

I sigh, half-expecting the pain of full penetration to follow this exploration of his boundaries. “No, I wouldn’t hate you. But I don’t want you to. Not yet. Not like this. Not in Cartwright’s basement.”

“Do you know how hard it is to hold back, Zoey?” he asks, slowly sliding out and back into me. “You’re so fucking wet. I know you want it.”

I don’t offer confirmation or denial. He took control as soon as he pushed the tip of his cock inside me, and I let him keep it when I told him I wouldn’t hate him if he didn’t respect my wishes.

I should probably care more than I do, but at this point, telling him no is more a test than anything. If I could handle what he did to me in that classroom, I can handle sex. I just don’t want to be one of his many casual hook-ups. I don’t want to be some girl he goes through and gets bored with. If that’s all I am, then no, I don’t want to give him my virginity; I’m just aware he might take it whether I want him to or not, so if he does, I need to be prepared.

“I’m not even officially your girlfriend,” I tell him. “I think it’s premature to give you my virginity when we’re not even technically together. When just earlier tonight another girl—”

“Don’t.” His tone is laced with enough warning that I stop. “I told you, that didn’t happen.”

“I know. I’m just saying. I know you’re used to moving faster than me, I understand that. But if I’m not moving at the pace you need, I need to know you’re going to bring that to me, not take the decision out of my hands and delegate it to someone else. If I’m not even your girlfriend, I guess you don’t owe me anything, but—”

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?” he asks, butting himself against my clit.

I gasp as he rubs me, closing my eyes. “Once I have the title, how long do I have to come to terms with losing my virginity? I feel like the clock starts ticking faster if we’re official.”

“You’re going to like sex, Zoey. I don’t know why you’re so afraid of it.”

“I’m not afraid of sex, I’m afraid of being used and discarded,” I blurt. “You said you wanted my virginity, and now you’re takin’ the fastest path you can to get to it. What else am I supposed to think?”

“That I want to fuck you for the first time, because then I will get to keep fucking you, and it won’t be such a fucking event?” he suggests. Shaking his head in vague aggravation, he says, “Fuck this.”

My heart kicks up and I half-expect him to pull out of my body and leave me here alone on the bed, but instead he drives his hips forward. I cry out at the unexpected pain as he tears into me, my upper body arching off the bed.