The Way She Burns

A kiss. I’m being kissed.

And rutted. Two firsts at the same time.

Sebastian fills my mouth with his tongue, making a stuttered sound in his throat, delving deeper. Sweeping the hollow of my mouth thoroughly. It’s dizzying. The new kind of friction. The wet slide and the rasp of his night beard on my soft skin. We’re man and girl and I’m working for his kindness, bartering my virginity for it. Making this forbidden. Making it a little wrong for him to pump into me with such savagery while choking out grunts. A smacking sound fills the kitchen, a combination of his incredible hardness and my feminine wetness. And he enters me harder, still, dropping his chin down on the top of my head and slamming my bottom repeatedly against the island, upsetting my coffee mug and a jar of pens.

This. It’s everything I’ve been searching for.

When I sneak out and run wild in the meadows trying to ease the restlessness of my body, this is what it has been seeking. A good hard pound from this man. All those times my mother implored me to read the Bible in an attempt to distract me from the incessant yearning below my belly button, this is what I needed instead. Desperately. It’s not until that moment that I realize my wild streak took hold the same afternoon Sebastian saved me from falling over the cliff. Rescuing me. Making him my guardian angel. My protector.

“Daddy,” I whine, working my hips feverishly, my hands fisted in the back of his shirt, his back muscles raking against my wrists. The slide of his shaft over that sensitive nub is making me feel funny. Shaky. Out of control. And I hurl myself toward the horizon, wanting to know what it looks like. Wanting the complete picture. “Please, please, please,” I chant, digging my heels into his tightly muscled, pistoning buttocks. “Sebastian.”

“That sweet pussy of yours is starting to juice me. Tight and tighter, tight and tighter,” he pants into my ear, rifling himself in and out of me faster, harder. “My God, you can’t be real. I’m going to blow. Come on that dick now, girl. Fucking bathe me in it. From tip to ball sack. Do it. Need it everywhere. All over me.”

Permission.

No, not permission. An order. From my Daddy.

Yes.

I lose all power in my neck and sob brokenly, my loins twisting savagely, tummy seizing under the onslaught of pleasure. It’s enormous. Like being hit by a meteor from the heavens. I wrap my legs tighter and bear down, rubbing that sweet button against the base of his erection, riding it with hard tweaks of my hips, gathering as much of the intense pleasure as I can—and all the while he groans in my ear, urging my movements, lapping at my neck with his tongue.

“Jesus Christ, you tight little dream fuck,” he says through his teeth, wrapping a hand around my throat and speaking directly against my mouth. “Rubbing on it like you were born to take big loads from a big man, huh, girl? Me. Only me. Here comes your first of many.” He slams high and deep, his huge body starting to shake, his member pulsing between my thighs. Geysering moisture, so thick and sticky, I gasp and he plows into me again, again, his movements slow and thorough, as if he’s using my sex to wring out every drop of his seed. “Goddamn!”

His mouth is open on my neck and he starts to rut me, almost violently, more and more hot liquid flooding me. And there is definite pleasure coursing through me at the proof that I’ve driven him to completion. That this man’s strict composure has been snapped. But I can also hear his words reverberating over and over in my mind.

Rubbing on it like you were born to take big loads from a big man, huh, girl?

Born wicked. Rebellious. Destructive.

I’ve believed this about myself for such a long time. I’ve witnessed the outcome of my intemperance. A life was lost because of this need in me to stray from the proper path. The good, wholesome path my mother wanted for me. Now I know that even Sebastian can sense how deep my unnaturally powerful lust runs, too. Especially where he is concerned, this compelling man who started the yearning within me in the first place.

I know in that moment that I cannot stay here.

I cannot be around this man who rouses a deeper, darker energy inside of me. An energy that will make it too hard to be a good person. To set a good example for Curtis. And most importantly, to prevent another tragedy from happening because of me.

Sebastian finishes thrusting and slumps against me, burying his fingers in my hair and inhaling the scent there, along with my neck. “Chloe,” he says hoarsely, tipping my face back to meet his worried eyes. “Tell me I didn’t hurt you. I…was rough. Very rough. With a virgin. Christ, the way I…” Despite his self-recriminations, lust kindles in his eyes. “The way I took you was inexcusable. Even if you weren’t a virgin, you’re so young—”