Specimen

“What do you mean?”

“When I volunteered for this,” I say, clarifying my thoughts, “did you tell me it would hurt?”

“I wasn’t there,” Riley says, “so I don’t know exactly what they told you.”

“I bet they didn’t tell me.” I shift my legs. They ache as though I’d just spent hours in the gym. “If I’d known, I don’t think I would have agreed.”

Riley doesn’t respond. Her fingers dance over the inside of my left arm, and I relax against her again. I think about what I’ve just said, wondering what possible reason I could have had for becoming a volunteer for this project without knowing exactly what was in store for me.

Maybe I did know.

I run my nose along Riley’s shoulder. Now that the pain has subsided, she fills my thoughts. If I had known about her, maybe I would have volunteered anyway. Maybe she makes it all worth it. Just having the opportunity to be this close to her might be worth all the pain. When she gives a little more of herself, enduring whatever is in store for me is given reason.

She’ll let me kiss her, but she always makes me stop long before I want her to. Maybe that will be enough for now. I press my lips to the side of her neck and then move over to cover her mouth. I feel her grip on my arm tighten as her mouth opens, and I slide my tongue in to taste her. I raise my hand to cup her face and then fan my fingers over the strands of her hair. I run the spot behind her ear, just above her hairline, and break the kiss. I keep my lips close to hers, feeling her breath on my face.

“I want you so much.” It’s the same comment I always make, and I have no expectation of a different reaction. Now she’ll tell me to let go of her, and she’ll either take me to training or another hooker will be brought to the lab.

Riley looks into my eyes and takes a long breath. Her fingers tense against my skin, and I wait for her to push me back enough to untangle herself from my embrace and start logging my statistics into her tablet.

But she doesn’t move.

For several seconds, I keep massaging her hairline with my fingertips, and she keeps watching my face. There is nothing I want to do more than to have her beneath me, legs open and wanting. The images begin to play through my head, and then she finally speaks.

“Do it.”

I hear her words.

Absorb them.

Bright flashes in my eyes as well as my mind blind me and freeze my movements for a fraction of a second. Comprehension takes hold as I stare into her eyes.

Fear.

Anticipation.

I’ve seen those signs in her before, many times. She’s always held back, always denied me. Her chest rises and falls with her breathing. The skin of her neck is flushed. Her pupils are dilated. She moistens her lips with her tongue.

Above all the other indications, I can smell it on her. The delicate, unmistakable scent flows over me.

Desire.

This time, it is coupled with the one key element that has always been lacking before—permission.

Reaching out, my fingers grasp the collar of her lab coat, and I pull her down.

Fabric tears. I barely register my actions as her lab coat falls in pieces to the floor. The rest of her clothing follows quickly, shredded beyond repair.

She gasps as I flip her over easily, pinning her beneath me and pushing her legs apart with my knees. I have no interest in foreplay. I already know she’s ready. At this moment, all that matters is getting my cock inside her as quickly as possible.

I shove my shorts down just far enough to free my dick. I lean over her, wrap my hand around the base of my shaft and press it to her opening. I push forward, feeling her body give way as the head of my cock penetrates her heat.

Wrapping my arms under her shoulders, I hold us face to face. I look straight into her eyes, half expecting her to tell me to stop, but she says nothing. With one hard thrust, I bury myself in her.

My head explodes in a series of bright, white pulses of light. My skin burns and vibrates. I hold myself still, and for a moment, I believe I’ve actually been electrocuted. The initial shock of merging with her fades just enough for me to gather my wits.

Staring into her eyes, I move in rolling, rhythmic thrusts. Riley grips my biceps and stares back at me. Her mouth is slightly open, but I don’t move to kiss her—not yet. I just watch her eyes as I move inside of her.

Our bodies may be connected below, but our souls are joined in our eyes.