I was so close. I keen with frustration and try to shift my hips forward so that my clit can graze his cock as I grind up and down.
But even with his injury, he’s way stronger than me. He flexes his hips in a way that keeps mine exactly where he wants them—impaled on his erection but unable to get my clit anywhere near his staff. Even worse, when I try to force the issue, it hurts the arm he has pinned behind me.
He tuts when I find that out the hard way. “Stop fighting me, angel. I’m not looking to hurt you. Not unless you want me too and ask me for it real nice.”
This asshole. He’s laughing at me, but if I had my hand free, I’d punch him in the throat. Not out of reflex, but because I’m that angry. The old anger rises. But just like when I was still in the system, there’s nothing I can do about it.
“Fuck you,” I gasp out. “Fuck you…”
Tears of frustration pool in my eyes. “This isn’t how I imagined losing my virginity.”
I don’t realize I said that out loud until he suddenly stills and asks, “You’re a virgin?”
CHAPTER 14
“You’re a virgin?” he asks, his expression becoming deadly serious.
My anger at him for not letting me come dissipates into embarrassment. Awful, awful embarrassment.
“You never had sex before with anybody but me?” His gruff voice resonates with disbelief. Like I’ve played some awful trick on him.
I start tugging on my wrists again, and this time it has nothing to do with wanting to touch myself. I think I might have found the ultimate cure for sexual frustration. All you have to do is embarrass yourself to the point of wanting to crawl into a hole. There, problem solved.
He untwists my arm from behind my back. But only to lay my hand on his chest. “Don’t fuck with me, angel. Are you serious? I’m your first?”
The look on his face makes my insides twist. His eyes are no longer dry, determined ice. No, they burn with some other emotion I couldn’t name.
Some emotion I shouldn’t name, I sense. Not if I wanted to get out of this situation with my sanity intact.
“It’s not a big deal,” I let him know since he doesn’t want to release me until I give him some sort of explanation. “I wasn’t saving myself or anything. I’ve done other stuff—I mean, some of it. Just not full-out penetrative sex. Like, I said, I’m terrible in bed…for reasons I don’t talk about.”
Except to you.
But no slip-ups this time. I make double sure not to say that last thing out loud.
Waylon stares at me for one…two…three sharp beats. Then he lets go of my wrist, and his expression morphs into something cold and unreadable. “Lesson over. Unlock this cuff. Now.”
My stomach twists again. This time with a feeling nearly as old as me. Rejection.
He’s upset. Of course, he is. It’s one thing to agree to teach an awkward twenty-six-year-old to be better in bed. It’s another to find out she’s a virgin. That’s just weird—and the main reason I stopped letting guys know about my status after I turned eighteen. Over the years, it had made me wish I was a lot more religious than I am.
Though I’d never say this out loud, I secretly wondered if those celebrities in their later 20s who claimed to save themselves for marriage were really awkward involuntary celibates like me—just using religion as their cover story.
Anyway, none of those “Virgin Celebrities—they’re just like me maybe” theories help with the abject embarrassment as I pull myself off Waylon’s dick and scurry over to the kitchen where I’d stashed the key underneath a can of green beans.
Part of me thinks about stopping at my dresser drawer on the way there. I could use a pair of pants to cover up.
But my need to end this latest painfully awkward sexcapade outvotes my desire to cover up. I retrieve the key and bring it back to uncuff him, quick as I would have in the ER with a patient coding in one of the beds.
“Okay, I still want you to get a ride to the train or bus station at least,” I say, reverting to problem-solving mode after I release him from the cuff. “I’ve got an Uber app on my phone. Just let me know where you want to g—”
I’m pulled forward and underneath him before I can finish making my offer. My heart slams into my chest. Then his lips drop down to mine in a crushing kiss.
Okay, what was that I was saying about him leaving? What was I thinking about no longer being sexually aroused?
His kiss re-sparks the burning desire in an instant, like a defibrillator bringing somebody back to life.
All my embarrassment…my awkwardness…my ethical reservations…they fall away underneath the tiger’s kiss.