Sweet Little Nothing

Her brown eyes glint in the firelight as she leans forward, setting her mug down onto the table. I place mine on the deck at our feet, waiting anxiously for her next move.

I'm expecting her to lean in for a gentle kiss, so imagine my surprise when she turns toward me and swings one leg over mine to straddle my lap.

"Fuck, baby," I groan, but she swallows the sound, boldly pressing her lips to mine, flicking her tongue against the seam until I open for her.

In the span of a breath our kiss goes from tame to heated, with her tunneling her fingers through my hair and rolling her hips against mine.

My hands roam her body, squeezing her ass. She trembles in my arms as I drag my hands across her hips and over the dips in her waist.

"Sterling," she moans, and I swear, between the sound of her voice and the way she moves against me, it feels like I'm in paradise.

But I'm worried she's not ready for where this is headed. "Baby." I move my hands back to her hips, stilling her movements. "Stop. Slow down. Let's talk about this."

But she doesn't let up. "I want this, I want you," she murmurs, her lips never breaking from mine.

"I want this, too, Emmalyn, but I also want to make sure we're on the same page."

The amount of self-control I'm displaying right now impresses even me. Because while I would love nothing more than to flip her onto her back and claim every square inch of her delectable body, I refuse to take more than she's willing and ready to give.

I refuse to take anything more before getting complete consent.

"Just kiss me, Sterling!" She leans back in, frantic for my touch in a way that sets my teeth on edge.

“Slow down and talk to me, little mouse.”

She huffs and flings herself from my lap, moving to the chair beside me. "Sure, Sterling," she bites out my name. "Let's talk."

"Are you mad at me?"

"It's not every day that a girl gets rejected in the heat of the moment. Especially on her first date."

"Whoa, hold up. I am not rejecting you. I just think we need to talk before we go any further. You're more to me than some cheap fuck. I see the possibility of a future between the two of us, and I don't think slowing down to talk is a bad thing. Can we please...I just want to understand where you are, what you want, and to make sure that everything is what it should be."

She instantly deflates. "Okay."

"It's not that I didn't like where this was going, but it seemed sudden."

Her shoulders curl forward and she wraps her arms around herself. "I guess you're right. It's just..." Tears well in her eyes, and my heart clenches at the sight of the droplets clinging to her lashes.

I don't ever want to see her cry ever again, and yet here she is, on a night that was supposed to be magical, with tears dripping from her chin.

"Talk to me, baby, you're breaking my heart."

A broken sob spills from her lips. "It's...I... He’s the only man to ever touch me, and I don't want the memory of his touch to linger. I want you to erase it...I need you to. I don't want to think about sex and see his face. I want to think about pleasure and happiness. I want to think about you, about your touch and the way you say my name. Please, Sterling, please make it better. Touch me, brand me. Make me yours."

And just like that, my heart absolutely shatters in my chest.

I mean—fuck—who am I to deny her?

"C'mere, baby," I whisper, opening my arms wide.

"Really?" she asks, a slight tremble to her voice. "You really want to do this with me? Even knowing...everything?"

My tongue darts out, swiping across my lower lip, savoring the lingering taste of her kiss. "Baby, want is not a strong enough word."

She wipes away the last of her tears. "Okay, then,” she whispers as she stands, stepping into my waiting arms.

I guide her through the house, straight back to my bedroom. I can feel the nervous energy pouring off of her. Or maybe it's me, because I'm damn sure a wreck, hoping like hell I can make this good for her, that I can indeed erase his touch and replace it with mine.

That I can submerge and drown her in so much pleasure, she’ll never think of his hands on her again. I want to purge that piece of shit from her system until she associates sex with pleasure, and pleasure with me, with my body, my touch, and my voice.

Once we cross the threshold into my room, Emmalyn pops up on her toes and kisses me softly.

I brush my lips against hers twice before pulling back with a smile. "It's not too late to change your mind," I tell her. "It's never too late to change your mind. If at any point it's too much or you don't want to continue, all you have to do is say the word and everything stops. This is about you, okay?"