Dubious (The Loan Shark Duet 1)

“It’s not that.” She sounds ashamed. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Wait…” If she’s not a virgin, but she doesn’t know what to do? A cold feeling of rage unfurls in my gut. Bitterness fills my mouth. The truth lodges like a stake in my heart. “You were raped.”

“Yes,” she whispers, “but it was a long time ago.”

The pace of my breathing quickens, changing direction. I go from turned on to raving mad. Fucking furious. I’ll kill the son of a bitch with my bare hands, peel his skin from his body, and cut his muscles from his bones. Forcing back my emotions, I let go of my cock, easing up to cup her cheek.

Calmly, so as not to frighten her with the force of my anger, I ask, “Only once?” while holding my breath for the answer.

“Only once.”

“When?”

She turns her head to the side.

I won’t let it go. I need to know. “Look at me.”

She obeys, her eyes begging me not to push, but the more she holds back, the more uneasy I get.

I brush my thumb over her cheek. “When?”

She purses her lips and stares at me with big eyes, as if I’m going to judge her. “I was thirteen.”

When I lay my hands on that motherfucker he’s going to suffer. There’s only one question left to ask. “Who?”

“I don’t know.”

She’s not lying. She doesn’t blink or look away, and her pupils don’t dilate. She was a random victim. I’ll find and kill him for her. If she wants to, I’ll give her the gun and let her shoot him herself. If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll make the bastard pay.

I kiss her lips. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I know.”

I’m glad she told me. This will require a different skill and attitude. Technically, she may not be a virgin, but physically, emotionally, and mentally she’s the virgin I took her for.

Easing over her body, I cup her jaw and hold her in place for my kiss, bruising our lips together. She gasps into my mouth, but lets me take control. As she can’t move her jaw, I’m the one nipping, sucking, and molding my lips around hers, taking and giving and making the moment mine. After a while, she starts fighting me, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me down for a deeper kiss, her tongue tangling with mine in an urgency that sets me ablaze. I shift my palm from her jaw to her neck, squeezing with dominant control. She embraces the touch, arching up into my hand. I pin her to the mattress with that commanding hold while I shift to her nipples, starting a slow seduction of tongue and teeth on every erogenous zone of her body. I nip the insides of her elbows and bite into the flesh where her pussy meets her thigh. I drag my tongue over the insides of her legs and dig my fingers into her ass, pulling the curvy flesh apart so I can lick down her crack to her pussy. By the time I’ve kissed my way from her feet to her mound, her legs are wrapped around me, and she’s sliding her wet sex over my cock, seeking the friction that will bring her release.

“I want you,” she whispers, breathing beauty into my room. “I want you, Gabriel. Please.”

A low groan vibrates in my chest. She’s begging me. She wants me like no other woman has wanted me before––not for my money or protection, but to ease the need I so carefully planted and nurtured inside of her. Her pleasure is mine, and I’m keeping it forever.

“Oh, God, please.” She digs her nails into my back. “Fuck me, already.”

We’re both out of control. I need to be lucid, or I risk hurting her, but she has me by the balls––literally––dragging her sharp nails from my sac up my ass and sending me way beyond sanity.

I grip my shaft and squeeze the root hard, praying the bite of pain will keep me within reason. Pushing up on one arm, I pull myself from the vice of her thighs and part her legs with my knee. When she’s wide and open, I take only a second to enjoy the sight before I lodge the head of my cock in her pussy. Her lips spread wide around my girth, stretching to accommodate all of me. I have precious little control left.

“Look at me,” I demand.

She opens her eyes. They’re hazy with desire and smoky with need, but they’re focused on me. I rest my elbows on the mattress so I can cup her face between my hands, needing to catch her expressions like a prayer between my palms. The movement shoves me another inch into her. She gasps, and her eyes widen. She’s tight and hot, her unused channel already pushing to expel the foreign object lodged in her entrance. I push deeper, feeling her like a velvet fist around me. I’m big, and she’s fragile, small. Her slickness helps, but it’s like pushing into a narrow chamber of hot, melting lava. The deeper I go, the more she squirms. I see it all in her face––the shock, pain, trust, and all-consuming need.