The Initiation (Filthy Rich Americans 1)

Our kiss started with passion, but it morphed into something different the longer our mouths were melded. It became harder. Darker. Reckless.

His hand twined in my hair, tugged at the strands, and moved right to the edge of pain. I put my hand on his shoulder and sank my fingernails into the meaty part of his arm. He escalated by sliding his hand down my back and gripped my ass so hard, I rose up onto my toes, pushing deeper into him.

I’d kept my raw, primal desire for Royce contained for a year, but this kiss? It unleashed all of it. Lust poured out of me in a throaty moan. It ached and throbbed between my legs as an empty feeling I was desperate for him to fill. And it intensified as he abandoned my lips and nipped at my neck, yanking so hard on my hair it stole my breath.

His teeth said he was angry with me, like he was mad about how much he wanted me, but his lips replaced the sting and wordlessly showed me he wasn’t. Using his hold, he moved us one stumbling step so he could pin me flat to the backseat door.

Sunlight dappled through the trees. Birds called out. Cicadas buzzed their deafeningly loud hum from seemingly nowhere yet all around us in the forest. It fed into the belief that Royce and I were entirely alone. The last two souls on the Earth.

He worked a hand up my shirt and raked his fingers over the cup of my bra, trying to get inside. I wanted to take everything off and give him free rein over my body. I wanted him to have me, and I’d waited a year for this.

“I want you,” I whispered.

“What?” He growled it in my ear. He’d heard what I’d said but demanded I repeat it anyway. And to distract me, he adjusted his stance so his leg was between mine and his thigh pressed at the junction of my legs. Pleasure was hot lighting coursing through me as he ground against my center.

“You could have killed us, and I would have died a virgin.”

He stepped away from me so abruptly, I nearly fell to the ground without his support. He stroked a hand over his lips, like he was wiping away the taste of my kiss. His expression was hard, and chaos swarmed in his eyes. “You’re not going to.”

“Great.” My word was sharp like the need he created inside me. I kept my gaze fixed on him as I grabbed the handle and wrenched open the door to the back seat. “Then, let’s do this.”

Anger tensed every muscle in him. His chest expanded as he pushed forward and got in my face. “Oh, believe me, Marist. I’m going to fuck you. But not today.”

What the hell was his deal? He wasn’t a virgin, and he was obviously interested in me. I wasn’t asking him something difficult. “Why not?”

“Because,” he said with exasperation, “I’m not taking your virginity in the back seat of your Porsche.”

That problem was easily solved. “Okay. Let’s go back to your place.”

“No. Why are you in such a hurry?”

A noise of frustration seeped out of me. “Oh, I don’t know—because I want to know what it’s like? I’m ready. I did what you asked. I waited, Royce. For you. For a whole fucking year where it was all I could think about, and I don’t understand how you’re not dying like me.”

The words had run out of my mouth before I could stop them, and I swallowed a breath at what I’d revealed.

His hard edge softened and blurred until it was gone. He motioned to the open back seat. “Get in.”

Yes. I scrambled across the leather bench seat and was relieved when he followed, folding his long legs into the small space before shutting the door behind himself. He turned to me, and his lips parted, but nothing came out. There was something he wanted to say but couldn’t find the words. Or perhaps they were choked in his throat.

His hesitation made me nervous.

He smoothed his hands along his thighs and finally found his voice. “In my experience, the first time is uncomfortable for girls.”

I lowered my chin so I could look at him with a plain expression. “Deflowered a lot of virgins, have you?”

“Some, yeah. I want to give you . . .” his lips pressed together as he struggled, “the best chance for you to enjoy it the first time.”

He was so serious, and it was sobering. “Okay, sorry. I’m not following you. What do you—”

He moved quickly. His mouth was hot and urgent, thrust to mine. His hands went to the snap of my jeans and made quick work of dropping my zipper. I still didn’t understand what he’d meant, but he seemed to be on board now, so I let it go. There was awkward twisting and fumbling as we sat side by side and struggled to push the denim down over my hips and legs. I hadn’t gotten the jeans past my ankles before he shoved a hand down the front of my panties and touched me.