In His Keeping (Slow Burn 2)

Her lungs caught fire as pain burned through her swollen passageway. Beau froze, his entire body going rigid as he stared down at her in shock. Her eyes were wide as she stared helplessly up at him as she processed the bombardment of conflicting sensations snaking through her body.

She didn’t know how he managed it, but he leaned down, so carefully and tenderly, and leaned his sweat-beaded brow against her forehead.

“Ari. Honey. Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispered.

“I didn’t know,” she whispered back, shock still reverberating through her body and mind.

His lips curved into a half smile. “You didn’t know you were a virgin?”

Her hands wouldn’t remain still. They glided up and down his arms and up the slope of his neck, her enjoying every bulge of muscle, each hard ridge.

“That’s not what I mean,” she said, giving her head a small shake.

He groaned. “I need you to be still, honey. I’m trying very hard to rein myself in, but if you keep that up, I’m not going to be able to hold back.”

“I didn’t think it would really hurt,” she said, stilling her hands and body so she was in complete accord with his. “I mean in books it never hurts. It’s always this glorious . . . thing. I honestly figured the whole hurting thing was a myth to discourage girls from having sex too young.”

He feathered a kiss over her furrowed brow and let out a sigh. “I ripped in to you with all the finesse of a rutting bull. Of course it hurt.”

She gave an experimental wiggle, gauging the now not so burning sensation. Or rather the burn was still present, but it was a good burn. She rubbed against him like a cat, locked her arms around his neck and then raised her legs to loop over the backs of his, solidly linking them, keeping their bodies connected so there was no question of him pulling out.

He was right where she wanted him to be and she wanted the edge back. That flying sensation, the about-to-catapult-right-over-the-edge free-falling spiral of need, want, lust and desire, all inexorably wound together in a seamless, never-ending chain.

“Okay now?” he asked, an edge to his voice that told him her movements had done to him precisely what he was doing to her. The wait was agonizing for them both.

“Yeah,” she whispered against his neck, turning her mouth to nuzzle and inhale. She began to nibble at his throat and then ran her tongue over the slight bristle of his evening shadow as she worked her way upward to his jaw and then she licked and scraped her teeth on a path toward his ear and when she sucked the lobe into her mouth, he let out a long hiss and he finally, finally moved.

She let out an honest-to-God moan when he withdrew with agonizing slowness, but the genuine tenderness in his care of her was utterly heartwarming.

“Hold on to me,” he husked out.

His hands slid down her curves, plumping and molding her breasts, weighing the slight swells in his palms before continuing their downward trek. They skimmed her sides, slid underneath her hips and then he cupped her behind and lifted her, adjusting the angle so that this time when he entered her, he went deeper, touching parts of her that caused her eyes to widen and her mouth to round into an O.

A really big O. Corny pun absolutely intended.

“I think I just figured out what a g-spot is,” she said in wonder.

His chest rumbled with laughter and his teeth flashed as a grin widened his face.

“I feel like a virgin as well,” he said in a rueful voice.

She reared back, planting her head deep into the pillow so she could look at him. “Not to completely mimic you but why on earth would you say a thing like that?”

He smiled again and playfully tugged at several thick strands of her hair, wrapping the tendrils around his fingers while squeezing her behind with his other hand, both gestures of obvious affection.

“Because this is the first time sex has been fun.”

He sounded as confused as she was about sex, which was pretty hilarious given she had zero experience and he’d probably been around the ballpark more than once. Surely a man wasn’t this great at sex without a lot of practice.

But she drew absurd pleasure from the fact that she was his first anything. However, realization dawned that he seemed baffled by the fun aspect.

“Sex isn’t supposed to be fun?” she asked in puzzlement.

“Oh yeah. It is,” he said, his voice laced with satisfaction. “You make a compelling argument for it being very fun. It’s just that I’ve been called brooding and intense and supposedly chicks are into that. I can’t say I’ve ever laughed while having sex. But you’re so damn cute.”

He chuckled as he said the last and nudged her chin affectionately and then pushed his hips, wedging himself deeper, momentarily rendering her speechless as euphoria swamped her. She danced along a razor’s edge, the very thin line between pleasure and pain as his fullness invaded her, stretched her.

Her inner walls rippled and clutched greedily at him, trying to prevent him from withdrawing each time he began easing back. She no longer cared about the vague discomfort because the sensual haze surrounding her, whispering through her veins, was as potent as any drug ever manufactured.

“You undo me,” he whispered as his lips brushed against her ears. Said so lightly that she wasn’t sure whether she’d truly heard them or if she’d merely imagined them.

She clutched the back of his neck and pulled him to meet her mouth, sucking his tongue inward just like her body sucked his cock deeper and deeper with every thrust.