Untouchable (Untouchables, 1)

Carter comes down to meet me, bracing a hand behind my back and pulling me against his chest to comfort me. He’s not moving inside me, trying to give my body a chance to adjust to his brutal invasion, but it still hurts.

“You said you wouldn’t.”

“I know,” he murmurs, caressing my hair and kissing the side of my face. “I’m sorry. But you’re not going to start trusting me until after I’ve fucked you. You think everything I do is suspect because I only want your virginity. I do want it, but it’s getting in the way.”

I swallow, lean my forehead against his shoulder, and mutter, “Not anymore.”

“No,” he agrees, petting me again. “Not anymore.”

He holds me for a couple minutes while I wrestle with the pain accompanying the loss of my innocence, then he lays me back down on the bed. I feel more vulnerable now in every way, emotionally and physically. He starts to move inside me, but it’s such a tight fit that it stings when he pulls back and pushes inside me again.

I don’t know how to feel, but he doesn’t give me long to debate. He takes my hands and moves them, pinning them beside me on the bed, but he links our fingers together, too. He puts more weight into holding me down, but it doesn’t feel mean with our fingers intertwined. His hips move slowly at first as I get accustomed to the way my body stretches to accommodate him. I’ve never felt so full in my life.

“Does it still hurt?” he asks.

I swallow and shake my head. “Not really.”

“I need to move faster. Tell me if it starts hurting, okay?”

I nod my head and go to reach for him, but he still has my arms pinned to the bed, and he doesn’t let go when I try to pull them free. I don’t try hard, figuring we’ve already come this far, I might as well let him do this his way.

It turns out, his way isn’t terrible. I love the feeling of his weight on top of me, his masculine scent, the sounds of his pleasure as he pumps into me. Being held down doesn’t bother me now that there’s nothing left to lose. He still kisses me—hard, fierce kisses that punctuate his thrusts. I still get the impression he’s holding back, not pounding into me as hard as he wants to, but as the friction of him rubbing against my walls starts to build up inside me, I need more.

“Harder,” I tell him, somewhat breathlessly.

He misses a thrust, looking down at me with surprise. “Yeah?”

“Can I—?” I nod at my wrists.

He releases them and I immediately wind them around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss, then repositioning my hands on his muscular shoulders so I have something to hold onto. He pulls his hips back and drives himself inside me full-force. My whole body moves up the bed, then he does it again and again and again. That delicious friction starts building again and I welcome it with open arms. It’s a life raft thrown at me when I was drowning in an ocean of uncertainty. Everything feels scarier now, like he unlocked new levels when he thrust through the barrier I asked him to leave intact, but with higher risks come a chance at higher rewards.

I can’t think about all that right now. I can’t think about anything but the way it feels like my insides are being stretched tighter and tighter, preparing to snap. The way I ache, yet still crave every impact when he slams inside me. In that way, sex with Carter is exactly like him.

The tension radiates through my core and before long I’m panting and gasping, my fingers digging into his skin unintentionally this time. Carter’s thumb brushes over my nipple and that extra jolt of unexpected pleasure sweeps over me, triggering the tension between my legs. I cry out as a deafening wave crashes through me, sending white-hot ripples of pleasure through my whole body. It’s like an explosion went off and I was standing too close; for a few seconds, I can’t hear, can’t think, can’t function beyond receiving pleasure.

When I can finally feel my skin again, I feel the bite of Carter’s fingers digging into my hips, his warm breath in my neck as he groans my name. He’s still inside me, as deep as he can get, his body tense. I blink a few times to orient myself, then take stock. Carter relaxes against me, settling his face in the crook of my neck while he recovers.

I’m feeling tender, so I wrap my arms around him and hold him close. My body feels hot everywhere except between my legs, where it feels… wet.

He didn’t use a condom, and he didn’t pull out. I didn’t want him to pull out, but I shouldn’t have let him come inside me, either.