“You okay?”
She nods. She doesn’t look like she’s in pain, but she doesn’t look particularly pleasured, either.
I pull out. “Come here.” I drop to my back beside her. “You ride. You’re the queen tonight. Take what you need.”
She scrambles up—no hesitation. I definitely know this girl. I may not have all her secrets yet, but I know her.
Sloane
I don’t know why I was so against Bo knowing I’m a virgin. He’s a sweetheart in bed. Lying back, his Adonis-like body on full display, he’s every bit the gentleman. Gone is the dickish asshole trying to make my life miserable.
Now he’s all consideration and patience. I lean over to turn up the radio a little more, just in case, then throw a leg over his waist and rise up to position myself over his cock. He holds it firm for me as I slowly lower myself down on it.
So. Good.
I start to rock my hips. He helps me, gripping my ass with his large palms. We find a rhythm, and I ride it.
Then I need more. I grab his wrists and pin them down beside his head. He gives me that pirate smile. We both know I’d lose any real wrestling match with him, but he’ll let me play. Let me pretend I have the upper hand for once in our rocky relationship. I pick up my speed, rubbing my clit forward and back as I move over him.
It’s incredible. I want more. All of it.
“You want me to touch you, princess? Let me touch you.”
I’m not sure what exactly he means, but I release his wrists. He brings his thumb to my clit and starts rubbing. With the other hand, he reaches behind and presses the pad of one of his fingers against my anus.
I bite back a shriek at the sudden onslaught of attention. Of sensation. I’m bucking, riding him like he’s a bronco. It’s all too much—the loss of control, panic at the orgasm hurtling toward me. I topple sideways as it rips through me.
Bo is a prince because he follows me over, staying inside me, taking over the work of thrusting while he still rubs my clit. Wave after glorious wave of pleasure roll through me as I smother my cries and gasps in the bedcover.
Bo pushes one of my knees up toward my chest and goes for his finish, hammering into me in my twisted, sideways position.
I watch him, mind blown with my own orgasm. Mind blown at the sight of him—this full grown spectacular specimen of malehood, all ripped muscles and power. If he was respectful before, it’s gone now.
Now he’s nothing but pure, animal need. I got mine, and now he’s after his. And he’s taking it. A more timid girl would be frightened by this display. The intensity. The loss of control. There’d be no stopping him now, if I wanted to. But I definitely don’t want to. I’m in awe, fascinated by his unapologetic virility.
His face contorts, as if in pain, and then he slams home and stays, eyes squeezed shut.
But a second later, his eyes fly open and find my face. “Shit, are you okay? Was I too rough?”
I shake my head. He was, but I’d never tell him, and not out of pride this time. Because I learned something about myself: I like it rough. I’m going to be sore—I already am sore, but holy hell, sex is fun! I don’t know why I denied myself so long.
Too many barriers up, I guess. I was unwilling to let anyone see me in a vulnerable position. It’s hard to believe that of all the people to let in, I chose Bo Fenton, the guy who hates my guts.
Only maybe he doesn’t. Not anymore.
Maybe he never did.
Was this all some crazy, animal attraction that we both resented because we’re not supposed to be together?
Me, because I can’t. And him because he blames me for what happened to his brother?
He’s still watching me, expression almost tender. He reaches out and strums my nipple with the pad of his thumb. “Are you okay?”
I nod.
“Sore?”
“Yeah, a little.”
He winces and eases out. “Sorry. I lost control at the end.” He turns around and walks to the bathroom, giving me a view of his very nicely-defined butt. I like how unabashed he is about being naked. But with a body like that, who wouldn’t be?
I grab his t-shirt from the floor and pull it over my head, not quite so immodest.
When he comes back, he says, “I wrapped the condom up in a bunch of toilet paper. Think it’s okay? Who empties the garbage?”
“Oh! Um, I’ll make sure to take it out.” Oh God, I think I’m blushing.
Bo reaches for me, settling his hands on my waist, stroking the fabric of his t-shirt over my sides. “I like you in my clothes. A lot.”