As I cuddle into the pillow next to Owen’s, I shyly pull the chemise down over my thighs to cover all of me. He’s already seen much more than I’ve ever shown anyone else, but I’m still not used to any kind of intimacy, even if this is only supposed to be a casual one-night stand.

The blue light from the TV still veils us, and I can’t take my eyes off of him, even if some of his shirt and trousers is still covering his magnificent body. A film of sweat and maybe even a hint of my juices make his torso gleam, and I want to reach out and run my fingers over the wet contours of him.

I’ve never seen a man this enthrallingly muscular. I’ve never seen a cock like his, even though he’s just spent himself. He’s long and thick, resting outside of his fly, and I greedily look at his length, wondering when he’s going to fill me with it.

God, when?

He sees that I’m looking at him, and I blush some more. Then, as if to tease me, he traces a hand over his belly where I stroked my pussy over him. He rubs his fingers together as if remembering how I so thoroughly got off on the raunchy foreplay.

Then, out of nowhere, his expression goes stoic, and he fists his hand and lowers it, almost as if he’s fighting some kind of urge within him. I’m not sure what it is, but then he’s back to watching me, capturing me with those dark eyes.

“How did you imagine your first time?” he asks.

He’s not demanding an answer from me, and his change of tone takes me off guard. He’s actually slightly more relaxed than I’ve seen him thus far.

“Well we didn’t quite get to my first time yet,” I say.

He laughs brusquely. “That’s because we’re going to take our time.”

His gaze is so piercing that I have to look away. I toy with the sheet instead.

“I’ve never been that outgoing,” I say, “especially where guys are concerned. I never pursued sex, and I’m actually kind of bashful when it comes right down to it.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“That’s because the answer will probably just bore you. I thought my first time would be with someone who loved me, and it’d be…well, different. Nothing fancy, just sweet, like in a song or a poem…or maybe a Monet painting.”

He doesn’t say anything. As I glance at him, I expect to see steel in his gaze, but he only seems to be trying to look into me. If there’s any emotion there, it’s deeply buried.

But why shouldn’t it be when this is only a transaction between us?

Apparently he has no use for more pillow talk because he takes the TV remote from where I’ve left it on the nightstand and starts flipping through channels. Even though he’s relatively relaxed, I get the feeling that he’s shut me out. At least for now, as he turns the channels and I lie on my side next to him, my body humming for him. And it doesn’t stop as the minutes drag by.

All my worries and fears nip at me again. Will I disappoint him? Will it hurt? Why didn’t he just get it over with and keep me out of this suspense?

I know when he’s ready for me again because there’s a change in the atmosphere. It goes from still to sultry with one long look from him that turns up my temperature to a near fever.

He leaves the TV on a digital music channel that’s playing a moody, dreamy tune, and I can’t tear my gaze away from him as he lazily reaches over to my shoulder and begins to slide down a strap of my chemise.

A tremor buzzes around the lining of my belly, making me quake a little. I fight it, try not to show it as he exposes my full breast.

The air breathes over the tip of it while he hungrily looks me over.

“Roll onto your back, Red,” he whispers.

It’s really starting now—my big night. My loss of innocence.

With my blood rumbling, I change my position as he keeps a hold of my other strap. When I roll over, the rest of my chemise slips down to reveal me.

I let out a shaky sigh, wondering if it’s supposed to be this enjoyable to sell yourself. I don’t think it is, but then again, not many men who pay for sex look or act like the man who is just about to take me, defile me, break me open.

Owen leans on his elbow, negligently bringing that strap all the way off my arm. Then he reaches over to divest me of the other until the silk is bunched around my waist. I think my heart is going to bang right out of my chest as my nipples tighten.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, sweeping his fingers over one of my tips, giving me a shock of tortuous contact. “I could get off just looking at these amazing tits.”

Then he brushes down to my stomach, and as my muscles give a tiny jump there, I flinch. He laughs, then skims his knuckles back up to my nipple. His fingertips are feather-light, and I feel an electric thrill all the way to my pussy.

“Responsive, too.” He trails his fingertips down my breast, then caresses the ample underside of it. “What I don’t understand is why you’d be so shy with boys, Red, especially since you have no problems telling me to fuck off every once in a while.”

“Maybe you deserve to be told that.”

At my sauciness, he pushes my breast up, and I rock with the motion, lifting one of my hands over my head.

His smile isn’t anywhere near kind. “Maybe I do deserve it.”

His comment confuses me, but I don’t have time to think too hard about it as he bends to lick my nipple, then sucks it into his mouth. I moan and arch from the bed while he slides his hand to my other breast, fondling it as he licks me, nips at me, making me pound for more.

He reaches to my waist to tug my chemise over my hips, and I instinctively wiggle enough to help him work it down my legs, where I kick it loose. Then he’s easing his fingertips between my thighs, parting them.

He keeps arousing my breast with his mouth as he strokes his fingers between the lips of my sex, every slow move getting me slicker and slicker. With his other hand, he guides my own hand down toward his body, and with a blast of passion, I understand what he wants.

When I brush against his cock, he groans. I’m doing something right, and I gather my courage, wrapping my fingers around his hardening shaft.

“Fuck,” he says against my breast. “See what you do to me?”

“Yes.”

“Do you like touching me as much as I like touching you?”

“Yes.”

As he separates my pussy with his fingers, I cover my face with my arm. With a swirling motion, he slides a finger into me, and I strain upward with a desperate mewl.

“Yeah,” he says in a strained voice. “That sound tells me you’re going to like it even more when my cock’s in you.”

Once again, his dirty talk makes everything inside of me fiercely purr, and he only revs me up more as he pumps in and out of me with his finger. Wet, slow, fucking me gently and getting me ready.

I haven’t let go of his cock, so every time his finger comes in and out of me, I move with him, stroking his shaft while he strokes me. He’s getting really hard, and as I think of him inside of me, my heart rattles with fright.

But my pussy keeps creaming, anticipating, wanting.

Owen increases the pace, pushing in and out of me faster, faster. He’s watching me now as I bite my bottom lip, trying not to lose control, trying not to look him in the eye so he can see how much I want him…

Pressure gathers in my belly, and the tiny quakes there become shudders. I know I’m about to blast apart, and I let go of his cock, wildly grasping his arm, cutting my nails into his skin. Then he moves his finger upward inside me just so, and—

Bam!

As he touches a secret, wonderfully tender spot, I seem to fly in a hundred different directions. I explode, I cry out, I hit the bed with my fist as my vision scrambles.

Before everything comes back together again, I feel him slip another finger into me, and I gasp at the tight sensation.

Fuzzily, I do look at him. He’s watching me closely as if to see whether there’s any discomfort, and in that moment, my heart warms.

Does he actually care about how I’m feeling?

His gaze stays locked on mine as he whirls his fingers inside me, opening me up, getting me hotter and readier for what he’s ultimately going to do to me.

This time I can’t look away as he seems to realizes he’s revealed too much of himself. His gaze goes feral again. With an animalistic growl, he removes his fingers then sits up, strips off his shirt, then the rest of his clothing. As I look at the uncoiling muscles in his thick arms, his hard chest, his corrugated abs, and now his tight thighs and ass, little heartbeats take me over. They hammer over my skin on their way to my belly, where they gather into a pounding cluster.

He comes back to the bed then pulls me to him, hauling me onto his lap, my back to his chest. Sweat makes our skin stick together as my bottom nestles against his taut belly. His erect cock is between my thighs, near my juiced pussy.

“I want you to get a feel for it,” he says against my ear. “Make friends with my cock, you dirty little girl.”

He reaches down to take his shaft in his hand, then presses it back into my sex until my pussy lips enfold it.

I moan. Restlessly, I shift, feeling my clit slide up then down against his hardness, stroking him just as my hand did earlier. He urges me on with his other hand on my hip. If this is what it feels like to have sex, I want it now.

“That’s right.” He sounds choked as I keep slathering him, being the dirty girl he wants me to be. “Think about what it’s going to be like as I fuck you with this. Are you ready for it?”

“Yes.”

He laughs, and even though he’s still in control, I can tell he’s about to lose it. He only proves it when he lays me on the bed, bracing his hands on either side of me.

For a suspended, hot moment, he looks down at me, caging me with his arms. The veins in his neck stand out, livid and bulging, and I’m gripping his arms in utter fear and anticipation. My pussy throbs, ready. So ready.

I suck in a breath when he shifts his weight, but then I realize that he’s not plunging into me yet.

“Quiet, Red,” he whispers.

Then, as if he actually does care, he gently prods my legs apart with one hand, lowering himself to a forearm. I feel his cock nudging my thigh, and I grip the bed sheet.

“Please,” I say in a soft voice.

Something changes in his eyes yet again, but before I can connect to it, I feel his tip coming into me, spreading my slippery opening apart.

I suck air in between my teeth, and he stops. Then I clench his arm.

Please.

He slides in farther, and it’s as if he’s breaking me wide open. I turn my face away, but there’s a sweet buzz in me, a sign that the burning discomfort might not last for too long.

As he begins to stroke in and out of me slowly, it’s as if he’s soothing me. And, god, it’s true—with every passing moment, my tightness pains me a little less.

I press my fingers into his arm again, asking for more.

His rhythm grows fuller, faster, and I after I get used to it, I find myself moving with every one of his strokes. I close my eyes in expanding rapture, the world on the backs of my eyelids seeming to melt into a rainbow of colors. Then those colors begin to bubble, boil, faster, faster, harder. Then just as I think I can’t take it anymore, a splash of heat hits me, bending itself into vivid stripes that flash and flare and—

With a violent splatter, I come, crying out then opening my eyes as Owen pounds into me with his cock. He’s still got that hint of animal hunger in his eyes, and his ferocious nature consumes me. I can see he’s on the edge, but something changes within him just as I think he’s about to spill into me.

“Fuck,” he grits, pulling out of me.

With a bestial groan, he spurts cum onto my belly, sticky and warm and wonderful. Then, with a guttural curse, he pulls me against him, kissing me passionately and taking away every last breath I have. As he ravishes me, I succumb in every way, fading into him.

My first man.

The one who’s somehow managed to steel a piece of my broken little heart before we even know each other.

I wish the kiss would last forever, but he eventually ends it, his mouth still on mine, my lips humming with heat. Surely something else is coming next—something incredible and mind blowing…

I look into his eyes, the emotion I’m feeling written across my face, when suddenly he stills and tenses up.

That’s when I realize I’ve done something wrong.