River wouldn’t leave Tiller’s side all day. As it turns out, leaving her with him for two days apparently formed an inseparable bond. That leaves us at his house for another night and while I’m nervous about it, it makes me feel better that he kicked everyone but his brothers and Scarlet out of the house for the night.
River’s tucked away in the guest room down the hall, sleeping soundly in a pile of stuffed animals.
Do you see the two people in the bedroom alone? The girl, she’s so nervous she fears her heart is shaking in her chest and the boy, well, he’s certainly not a boy. He’s a man, and he’s smoking a cigarette near the window. If you look close enough, do you notice the subtle tremble to his hands?
It tells a lot about who he is, if you pay attention to the details.
These two people in the room together, they’ve been in love for a lifetime, but neither one of them will say the words.
My body is more than ready for him, but my heart is another story. I’m not sure if I trust my heart with someone like him, but I want to and that’s the only explanation I can give you as to how we ended up in his room together, alone.
His room, it’s bathed in flickering light. Candles. Everywhere. On the nightstand, the dresser, the floor.
“When did you do this?”
“When you were putting River to bed.” Glancing over his shoulder at the glass vases he’d placed candles in, he frowns at the ones that won’t stay lit. “In the movies, they have people who keep those lit. I’m sure of it. I’ve lit that fucker over there three times now.”
We both laugh lightly, his and my nerves relaxing slightly. I knew what would happen when I walked inside this room tonight, but it still didn’t prepare me. I’m nervous. Hesitation and heartache, I can’t explain.
My eyes meet Tiller’s. “What now?”
He steps closer. My breath catches in my throat, fearing what comes next. We’ve been here before, sure, but this is different. This time I know I’m not going to stop him from going further.
“I don’t know.” He teases with a grin, smoke filtering from his nose. “What do you think happens next?”
We both know the answer, but he wants me to say it. With a sudden burst of confidence—a trait I didn’t know I could ever have around someone like him—I square my shoulders and decide to tell him the truth, like he doesn’t already know. “I’m. . . a virgin.”
I feel like an idiot having said it out-loud.
Tiller’s eyes never leave mine. Slowly, he brings the cigarette in his hand to his lips, taking a long drag as he walks around behind me, his chest against my back. “Why do you want it to be me?” His smoky breath tickles, lips brushing my ear as he puts the cigarette out next to him.
Why do I want it to be him? Because he’s Tiller, and he’s the only man who’s ever really known me. Why wouldn’t I want him? I mean, look at the guy. You’d be crazy not to. I know his nickname with his brothers. The cherry picker. He’s taken the virginity of many, and I wonder if he’s ever asked this question of them.
My eyes close, my response stammered out like I’m cold. “I’ve always wanted it to be you.”
His hands find residence on my hips. “That’s something you’re sure of?” One palm slides around my front, against my stomach as he draws me back against him.
My breath hitches, but I’m able to get out, “I’m sure.”
“Let me see how sure you are.” He drops his other hand to my leg, fingers skimming up my bare thigh to slip under my dress and touch the center of my damp panties.
I tense. Oh, I’m sure, and he’s about to find out just how sure I am. The moment his finger traces my clit over my panties, desire floods through me and I sigh, sinking back against him.
“Did you know how many times I’ve imagined fucking you?” He slips his fingers beneath my panties, plunging into my wet center. When he strokes my clit and my lashes flutter.
Oh God. . . the things he’s going to do to me.
Heat spreads through my body and he continues by whispering, “Every time I saw you bent over that table at the track, I imagined my cock in your ass.” His finger plunges inside me, his erection settling between the cheeks of my bottom as he rubs himself against me.
Unable to control myself, I arch against him. “Oh God!” My head drops back on his shoulder, his words ravaging my body. Raising my hands up, I wrap them behind my head and into his hair, securing him to me in any way I can.
“You like hearing what you do to me, don’t you?”
I nod.
“I can tell. My fuckin’ fingers are soaked.”
Twisting my head, I breathe into him, “I don’t want anyone but you.”
His lips brush mine, hard and possessive. “Your virgin cunt is mine.”
Oh God, he’s so dirty!
Withdrawing his hand from my panties, he turns his head into mine and brings his fingers to my lips, painting my arousal on them. “Taste how sweet you are.”
I gasp. That can’t be sanitary. . . oh wait, no, it’s fine, right? It’s not like it was my butt. Oh my God, stop thinking. I’m shocked by the bold act, yet incredibly turned on. I never thought I’d like that. Confusion hits me. I’m. . . just as dirty as him!
And another thing, it’s not sweet. But it’s not repulsive either.
With greedy movements, he turns me, removes my dress and never breaks his lips from mine. Satisfied when I’m naked, he eyes my body naked before him, aside from my panties. Dropping his hands to my bottom, he lifts me off my feet. I wrap my legs around his hips. His erection presses into my center and I fight the urge to squirm against it.
He carries me to his bed, laying me across his ninja turtle sheets. And then he stares at me, as if he’s just won the competition and he’s admiring his trophy.
With a smirk, he removes his shirt and drops his shorts. I gulp. Literally. From the expression on his face, hair falling in his eyes, the ink splayed across his body, it hits me how intimidating he really is. Believe it or not, this isn’t the first time I’ve seen him naked, but it’s the first in a while.
Nerves suffocate me, and I find it hard to draw in steady breaths. Heat licks my neck and I know if I saw myself in a mirror right now, it’d look something similar to an allergic reaction with the way my neck is probably beet red.
Reaching forward, Tiller twirls a strand of purple around his finger. “I’ve waited a long fucking time for this.” His words have my heart thudding hard against my breast bone and I count the beats, anything to take my mind off what’s about to happen and that I’ve basically been holding out on this day for nine years with him. I want to slow time down and remember everything he says and does, but then again, when I think about the pain, I want to get it over with.
Dragging me to the edge of the bed, he drops to his knees before me. He’s between my legs when our eyes catch. His are guarded, nervous, maybe even cold. Mine are open, willing, believing this means far more than it probably does. That’s the difference between the two of us. Where I see this as a connection, he probably sees it as finally getting laid. There’s nothing wrong with that, it’s the genetic differences between men and women, but that’s a story for another day.
Tiller spreads my knees wider, his gaze lingers on my bare center. He doesn’t say anything. Parting my lips, he glides his fingers over my swollen clit. In true Tiller fashion, he doesn’t wait for permission before he inserts one finger, then another. “Your pussy is begging for my cock.” He watches me intently when he asks, “Ready for me to make ya bleed?”
No. Yes. Shit. What did I get myself into?
“You’re so dirty!”
He laughs.
Part of me wants to slap my hand over his mouth and beg him to stop talking, but then again, I want his words. I still crave the darker side of him and that’s what makes this special. I’m getting the gnarly boy I’ve always loved. And though I don’t say anything, I want to shout, “Fuck me!” at the top of my lungs but that wouldn’t be me and he’d probably just laugh at me.
Lit by flickering warm light, his face dips between my legs and his tongue massages my clit. “I love that you’re untouched by anyone but me.”
You made sure of it.
With his words, I go a little crazy, moving my hips, basically humping his face like I did in the bathroom. Within minutes, a mind-numbing orgasm explodes through my body from my center to my toes. I feel it everywhere.
I think I black out from the sensations alone because the next thing I know, Tiller’s hovering over me, one hand flat on the mattress beside my head. His other one is inside his boxers, stroking his erection. “Goddamn. That was so fuckin’ hot.” My pulse skips, eyes drifting as he shoves his boxers down, freeing himself.
Oh God, I’m staring at Tiller’s penis. No. . . cock. Cock’s the right word here. Strong, powerful—beautiful. That’s what he is. Believe or not, I’ve never seen it this close up.
“It’s pretty.”
Wrong. Thing. To. Say.
He jerks his eyes to mine. “What the fuck did you just say?”
I’ve upset him.
Sitting up, I tentatively reach out to touch him, my fingers wrapping around his hardness, stroking from base to tip and waiting for his reaction.
“Don’t tease me.” A groan falls from his lips, his head falling forward as he thrusts into my hand. Okay, good. He’s forgotten. Because I’ve seen porn before, and I think he might find this sexy and distract him even further from my lack of expertise in penis, or penises? Is it plural? Whatever. I decide I’m going to put him in my mouth. Or try to at least.
I stare at the drop of clear like fluid collection on the tip. While Tiller and I have been sexual with one another, and done everything under the sun but intercourse, I’ve never put him in my mouth or never tasted his cum. I’m curious. I want to know what he tastes like so badly.
Bringing my fingertips to the head, I swipe my finger over the tip. With a grin, I push my hand toward him like I’m going to smear it on his lips like he did to me.
He catches my hand, glaring. “Don’t even think about it.”
Giggling, I retract my hand and suck on my finger. While it’s not horrible, I can see why girls don’t swallow. It’s not like I want a mouth full of that. I’d probably choke and gag and he’d love it because he seems to like when I gag.
“Don’t just fuckin’ lick it. Suck it like you mean it. You know you want to. Suck it like you did the bottle,” he says, as if he knew what I was thinking. “Show me how bad you want me.”
I lick him once again and it’s salty. So unlike what I thought it’d taste like. Desire floods through me at the noises he makes, the sharp intake of his breath. Without hesitation, I take him all the way in.
And then I gag. Hot huh?
Tiller throws his head back and groans, like I’ve done something incredibly sexy. While I’m glad he’s distracted from my previous remark, why would me gagging turn him on? I don’t stop. I lower my mouth, all the way down. He grabs a fistful of my hair and moves my head the way he wants it, with the right speed. Though it’s not forceful, it’s just enough pressure to let me know I’m not going anywhere until he tells me so.
“Fuck yeah. Just like that.” He guides me in an up and down motion. “You look hot with my cock in your mouth.”
Unsure still, I peek up at him for encouragement and that seems to be exactly what he wants to see. He groans and shoves my head down. He hits the back of my throat and I gag again. I’m not sure I like that, but I don’t stop him because while it’s not all that enjoyable having something the size of an eggplant in your mouth, it’s strangely erotic seeing him react like this.
My insides tingle in anticipation of what it will finally feel like having him inside me. I’ve imagined it, only him, for so long, I’m scared it won’t live up to what it’s really like. But then I realize that’s crazy. It’s Tiller. It’ll be everything I’ve ever imagined, and then some.
He pulls away, yanking my mouth off him. “That’s enough.”
Wiping my mouth, I look up at him, my breathing becoming heavier. Crap. What happens next?
He reaches over to his nightstand for a condom and immediately sheathes himself in one. There’s certainly no hesitation on his part, is there?
My heart is pounding so hard I think he can hear it. With a hand on my chest, he pushes me back against the mattress, then spreads my legs. He’s in position and it’s now that I realize there’s no going back.
“Tell me you’re sure.” He waits for me to tell him no again. This is usually when I stop him.
I giggle lightly. “You act as if I’m jumping off a cliff.”
“You kinda are. There’s no going back once I have you.”
“I want you,” I assure him. “But um, be gentle.”
He laughs. “I can’t guarantee ya anything.” It’s his tone I notice that’s different. It’s low and anxious. Wary even. His eyes search mine, looking for something. Maybe an emotion he’s afraid he’s going to find.
My heart pounds a million miles an hour. I bite my lips and then venture to add, “What about what you promised?”
His brow furrows, his eyes guarded. “What?”
“Where you. . . uh, you know, the part where you said you’d tell me you loved me.”
His jaw tenses, his eyes narrow on me, then he blinks slowly. I notice his breathing increases and then he swallows as though he’s unsure what to do next. Get this. . . he says nothing. And I can’t tell if it’s that he wants to, or that he does and doesn’t know how to say it.
There are no more words, and just like his fingers inside me, he doesn’t wait to push all the way in, painfully taking my virginity with it and breathlessly telling me, “No sense in easing into it. It’ll hurt less this way.”
And I believe him, because he’s done this so many times.
It’s a lie. It hurts so bad!
The moment he enters me, it’s nothing like I anticipated. It’s more. It’s everything to be touched like this, by him, to have him insides me, the one with sad eyes.
He curses under his breath, his muscles tightening beneath his skin as he halts deep inside of me. “Jesus Christ, you’re so fuckin’ tight.”
I want to say, yeah, dude, virgin here, but I don’t because one, I’m in pain and two, he’s staring at me. I don’t know what he’s thinking. So much is hidden behind his dark eyes. Is he. . . nervous? No, that’s not a nervous look. Conflicted? Confused? Regretful?
I touch the side of his face. “What are you thinking?”
But then he asks me, as if he’s worried, “Are you okay?” His body trembles ever so slightly, never answering my question.
I nod, but it’s a lie. This is scary and crazy and I’m super worried about my vagina, and my heart. This is huge. I’m giving this part of myself to Tiller, and I fear I’ve just lost what little I had left keeping him in my life. He now owns every part of me and what happens next? Am I tossed aside like every other girl?
His movements are slower than I would expect them to be and for me, it’s painful and unfortunately, detached. The emotions in his eyes contradict his actions and despite him being inside me, taking my virginity, I have the physical side of him, but I don’t have his heart.
With every movement, I’m reminded of how much it hurts. Maybe that’s why I had waited so long. I’ve never been one for pain and I don’t feel pleasure yet. It’s a good thing he was nice enough to get me off before this because the pain’s so bad I don’t think I can relax enough to actually enjoy it.
Tiller’s held up by his arms. There’s distance between our bodies as he moves in and out of me, but it’s not enough. I don’t want any space between us. Not while I’m giving him the one thing I’ve held onto for so long when it comes to him. “Come closer.”
He looks concerned and he blinks. Twice. “Why?”
“It hurts. Be a gentleman and cuddle me.”
His eyebrow raises. “Do I look like I cuddle?”
“Not particularly, but can you at least try?”
I watch his face, but he gives nothing away as he lowers himself on top of me.
My arms wrap around his tense back as I cling to his body. He doesn’t move, his warm breath panting against the side of my neck. I think about all the women he’s been with. I hate that I do. I even think about Ava in that moment.
“Give me something you don’t give them,” I whisper, knowing he’ll understand what I mean.
His jaw tightens. “I am.” I don’t know what he means, and I’m not entirely sure he does either.
Swallowing, he lowers his chest to mine. Bracing his hands above me on the headboard, he moves again.
He thrusts come hard, moving me up the bed until my head hits his headboard. It thumps against the wall, and when he notices, he places his hand over the top of my head protecting it. It’s probably the nicest thing he’s done for me.
I’ve read enough romance novels, apparently not ones with guys like Tiller as the hero, but in all of them, there’s romance and candles as they slowly make love. Not me. While I have the candles, I also get Tiller Sawyer fucking me on ninja turtle sheets as my head pile drives the headboard. It’s perfect in the most unconventional way.
He’s relentless and I’m desperate to make this last. I cherish every minute, every touch, every movement of the way his body feels against mine and the closeness he provides me.
My first real pleasure comes when he bites my neck, teeth scraping the tender flesh in a painful nibble.
Clinging to him with everything I have, I never want this to end, despite the pain.
His breathing is harsh, quick gasps of air through a tight jaw. “Fuck. Your pussy’s so tight.”
Believe it or not, I do start to feel pleasure. It’s when he’s kissing me that I finally relax enough to enjoy it. My orgasm comes eventually, with his persistence and determination to drag this out with every angle of his hips against mine. It courses through me, my body tensing underneath him, my heels gripping him tightly and my arms tightening around his neck. In the midst of my orgasm, I pull him closer, the movement doing nothing to slow him down, drawing out the blissful high with every pump of his muscular hips.
With a grunt, he drives into me, unrelenting, unapologetic in every way. Everything about Tiller screams aggressive and his love making is no different. His touches, hard and aggressive, each one sends a jolt of arousal through me, confirming who he is.
His mouth finds mine and suddenly it’s like he can’t get enough of me, and his movements pick up. His hands move from the headboard to my bottom, driving himself deeper. It’s not exactly pleasant; it’s sort of painful, but I don’t say anything to stop him.
Parting his mouth from mine, he drops his lips to my shoulder, panting and grunting with each hard thrust inside of me. Then he stills, his body jerking, tensing, shaking as he releases inside of me. Pumping into me a few more times, he groans and collapses his weight against me.
It’s only seconds later, still trying to catch his breath, he lifts his head, his hair falling into his eyes as they penetrate mine. Silence lingers between us, the tension creeping in. He looks different. Sweet? No. . . maybe vulnerable? Does he look different to you? He reminds me of when he was younger before the emptiness inside defined him.
He doesn’t say anything before shifting his weight off me. Removing the condom, he tosses it in a trash can next to the bed and reaches over for a cigarette on his nightstand. Watching him, it’s then my thoughts catch up with me. My cheeks blush. I just lost my virginity. Now I feel like I look different. Will he see me differently?
Hearing the flick of his lighter, then the inhale, I smile and look down at the sheets pooled around my waist. “Why do you have ninja turtle sheets?”
He smirks, taking a long pull of his cigarette. “Because they’re cool.” He exhales the cloud of smoke, obviously not caring what anyone would think about them.
I lie next to him, unsure what to do next. Every other time we’ve been together like this, we’ve been drunk and one of us passes out, or leaves. Now it’s different. I let him in. Literally.
He wraps his arm around my shoulder and draws me into him. He’s warm, his heart still beating rapidly. I also don’t miss the way his hands are shaking.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, and then regret it because what if he regrets what we just did?
He’s quiet for a moment, lost in thoughts he’s not sharing, staring up at the ceiling while his smoke circles around us. “Nothin’.”
“I can uh. . . sleep in the room with River.” I have no idea how this works. “If that’s what you want.”
Don’t tell me to go. Love me.
“I want you to stay.”
My heart pounds. He shifts, leaning forward to put his cigarette out. When he returns, his body curls around me. He’s snuggling. With me. While I may not have had the attachment I wanted, he gave me what he could. This guy, my anxious hardened guy, he really did give me everything he could.
Neither one of us say anything for a few minutes, me being paranoid and he’s calm in the storm and anxious in the quiet. When I shift closer, his lips meet my skin and I am on fire, burning to the beat of his heart and shaky breath over my skin. Lazy eyes watch me, captured by my every move as I lie against his chest.
He lets me get as close as I want.
Did you forget we had candles going?
We did. Guess what’s on fire now?
Tiller’s curtains. Don’t worry, it’s put out fairly quickly, but still, it ends in the two of us laughing on the floor, smoke filling his room until he opens the doors leading out to the balcony overlooking the motocross track. It’s then he pulls me close, an act of tenderness I didn’t get during the sex.
We’re naked, still, and with my hands on his shoulders, his body tenses. “Do you regret it?”
I rest my head on his chest. “No.” I want to love him in all the ways I’m afraid to love him, in all the ways I believe I don’t deserve.