American Queen

And his eyes—he was gone. He was raw now, a hard body of speechless need. He stood and shucked his pants and boxer briefs and went into the bathroom, emerging a moment later with a small foil packet in his hand. He handed it to me wordlessly, his hands shaking.

“I need,” he said in a trembling voice. That was all.

Not I need you, not even I need to fuck.

Just I need.

The honest primal nature of it took my breath away. I needed, too. Just for tonight.

But as I slid to the edge of the bed and tore the foil packet open, I remembered the uncomfortable hurdle of my virginity. I was Catholic, yes, some would even say a devout one, but I wasn’t particularly traditional when it came to premarital sex. It was merely that Ash had ruined me for any other touch…at least until tonight.

Should I tell Embry? Should I slow this down?

I don’t want to slow down.

I wanted to be fucked, hard. I wanted to come again. I wanted the cruel, vicious knowledge that I’d had a man’s cock inside me so that whenever I saw Ash again, I could guard myself with my own experience. He wouldn’t be the only one who didn’t wait, he would no longer be the only one who’d moved on. I would have fucked his best friend, cried out another man’s name, and I wanted that satisfaction so much I could taste it.

Yes, I needed. Yes, in any universe I would be right here, right now, doing this very thing, but in this universe, the jealousy and pain fueled the fire, and from the way Embry’s eyes hooded at the sight of my hand grasping his erection, I guessed that I wasn’t the only one wanting to fuck away my demons tonight.

I had never rolled on a condom before, but Embry helped me, holding his dick steady as I slowly worked the latex down his length. He had a beautiful cock, eight thick inches, straight and proud with a purple-dark tip and close-cropped curls at his base. Even the heavy sac underneath his dick was beautiful, looking so full and ready for release, and I laid back on the bed and beckoned for him to join me, ready for him to spill himself inside me. Ready for him to relieve the ache there.

He followed me, his body still trembling with the effort of holding back, and settled on top of me.

“Open up,” he demanded through clenched teeth. “Open yourself for me.”

There was no question in his tone. No permission. I might have been any woman underneath him, any warm pussy he’d found for the night, and that thought was freeing and exhilarating in how dirty and impersonal it was.

I spread my legs, and he was right there, the huge head of him pushing against my entrance. It was so big, so wide, so much more than my fingers had ever been, and I cried out in real pain. I wanted this, I knew I did, but my body was at war with itself. My nerve endings shrieked in pain at the same time something much deeper and much more unknowable whispered to me to take it, to move into him, to be penetrated.

“Jesus, Greer,” Embry muttered, shoving in another forceful inch. Sweat gleamed on his shoulders and chest, and his lips trembled. “You’re too tight. I can’t—”

Another shove, another inch. I cried out again, tears spilling from my eyes.

“I’m a virgin,” I blurted.

He froze.

“I don’t want to stop,” I said hurriedly. “I just—I felt like you should know.”

“You felt like I should know,” Embry echoed, his blue eyes searching my face.

Ash would have stopped, checked in with me. He would have asked if I really wanted this, to lose my virginity to him, in some anonymous hotel room. It was because Ash would have wanted so badly to be cruel to me, to take my virginity in the most crude and rough way possible, he would have forced himself to be circumspect until he knew it was what I really wanted. Then and only then, would he have let the beast out, the real monster.

Embry was not Ash.

His eyebrows drew together, his lips parted with an exhale so strong I knew that whatever control he’d had was finished, and then the ridged muscles of his flat stomach bunched together and he thrust all the way home.

A sound tore from my throat—raw, real pain—but Embry was heedless above me, fucking into me like a man possessed. It felt like I was being wedged in two, like I was being split apart, and the invasion was brutal and absolute. I scratched at his back and at his ass, and one moment I scratched in anger and pain, the next in desperation to have him deeper and harder. I didn’t know my own body in that moment—my own body didn’t know itself—that there could be so much pain from such a natural act and yet so much desire. Not that there was pleasure right away, I don’t mean that, but that there was something deeper than both the pleasure and the pain, a deep, deep itch that was finally and blissfully being scratched.

“You’re with me,” he grunted in my ear as he continued to force his way in and out of my virgin cunt. “You’re not with him. You’re giving this to me.”

His words made me moan. They were possessive and dark and rude and fetishizing and I didn’t care. It turned me on to hear and see him so aroused by breaking my hymen, and it piled more fuel onto my jealous, bleeding heart. I was giving this to someone else. Ash would never have it, and I let myself imagine that made me satisfied. That it covered up the pain I felt tonight at seeing him with Jenny.

Embry rose up on his knees, keeping his tip lodged in me, and his fingers dug hard into my hips as he swept his gaze over the place where we joined. I looked too, and it gave me some kind of strange delight to see the blood wet and dark on my thighs, smeared across his thighs and hips, glistening in streaks on the condom.