Sweet (Landry Family 6)

I can feel his fingers sinking into my bottom as he holds me up. My skirt, now bunched around my waist, allows the drywall to scratch my skin. His erection is hard against my stomach.

I think I might pass out.

My body burns. Heat pools between my legs. My back arches in an attempt to get more contact, any contact, with him.

Nate buries his face in the curve of my neck, nibbling the skin before he works himself back to my mouth. A shiver shifts through my body as the anticipation of what’s to come settles over me.

This is it. Am I ready?

The flick of his tongue against my lips is not a request but rather a command to open. I do, giving him what he wants, and he takes advantage. His tongue strokes my mouth, firm and determined as if he wants me to remember this moment.

He adjusts himself so that one forearm is under my ass and my back is flat against the wall. He pulls his body away just enough to get his free hand between my legs.

The lace covering my sex is pushed to the side. My clit pulses in a way I’ve never felt before. It’s swollen and hot, and when he presses his thumb against it—I cry out.

He catches the reaction with his mouth, sweeping the exhale away with his tongue. I dig my head into the wall and press myself against his hand.

One finger slides between my folds. He growls at how wet I am. Then he inserts it inside me, making me squeal.

God, that feels so good. I moan, unable to fully separate the sensations barreling through me. It’s too much but also not enough. It’s also somehow everything I thought it would be.

His kisses are measured, intentional—full of desire as he continues to finger my opening. He pulls back, having had enough to satisfy him for a moment, and smiles. Then he removes his finger and sets me back down on my feet.

A whoosh of air is released from my lungs. “Why did you stop?”

When I look up into his eyes as we pant for air, I feel something strange in my gut: peace. It’s a tranquility that I’ve never known at this moment. A space without fear or a question of whether this is right or wrong. I answer my own question as I bask in his grin.

I’m ready for whatever he wants to give me.

He pushes the hair off my face with a tenderness that makes me swoon. He peers into my eyes and studies me.

“What are you doing?” I ask him, shifting my body around to ease the fire roaring through my veins.

“Just looking at you.” He grins sheepishly. “Give me a moment, will ya?”

I fist his shirt and pull him to me.

“No,” I say like I’ve done this before. “I said undress me. Not caress me.”

He laughs. “I’m sorry. I thought you would like a little foreplay.”

“I’ve had foreplay before. It’s great. Now give me something I haven’t had.”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize what I’ve done. I told him I was a virgin. I release his shirt.

His eyes go wide, filled with a mixture of wariness and disbelief. He leans back and cocks his head to the side.

“What are you saying, Paige?”

“I’m saying I want you to fuck me. Please.”

“No. Not that. I heard you there.” His eyes narrow. “You’ve had foreplay before. Does that mean …”

My mouth goes dry. I force a swallow and try to ignore the rush of blood to my cheeks.

“I’m a virgin, okay?” I say, pulling my skirt down.

“Are you kidding?”

“No. Why would I joke about that?” I flush even more. “It’s embarrassing.”

He runs a hand down his face until it stops at his mouth. With it still covered, he says, “You have nothing to be embarrassed about.” He shakes his head. “Fucking hell.”

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry or just leave. What does his reaction mean?

Why did I even say anything?

“Forget it,” I say, my nerves getting the better of me. It’s hard to think with every hormone in your body swirling around without control. “I’ll go.”

“The hell you will.” He chuckles. “You’re a fucking virgin?”

I sigh. “I already told you this. Can we not stand here and repeat it?”

“I’m just …” He sighs too. “And you want to give that to me?”

I cross my arms over my chest, avoiding my nipples because they’re still hard, and look at him.

“Do you give every woman you sleep with this kind of Q and A? Because it’s kind of a turn-off. But what do I know? As we’ve said a hundred times, I’m a virgin.”

“Any other woman I’ve ever slept with hasn’t been you.”

What’s that supposed to mean? I drop my arms.

“Look, I’ve always stopped things when it got to this point because it’s never felt right. Hence, the reason Atticus said he was going to break my neck.”