Chapter 3

Cain’s kisses were the strangest mix of soft and sweet, blended with an intensity that felt raw and dirty. Maybe it was the way he watched me, his eyes drilling into me until the last second before his mouth met mine. Or the way his rough hands held my cheeks with such deference, such tenderness. The way he yanked my stool over to him, a possessive, unabashed quest to get me closer to him.

He was a combination I had never experienced, but one that set my heart to racing and my body tingling. I felt like I was simmering on low and with each kiss, he turned the heat up. He was barely touching me, yet I felt that edgy desire, the kind that makes you want to crawl out of your skin if you don’t get satisfaction. I wasn’t going to ask him to leave the bar again though. I did have my pride. Besides, I sensed he wanted to take the lead now and that was fine with me, because this was not my area of study.

Maybe I shouldn’t have waited so long to make this happen with a guy. A few kisses and I was desperate to jump Cain’s bones. I tapped my feet up and down urgently on the stool, agitated, wanting more, needing more. I reached for him, wanting to feel his body. I splayed my hands over his muscular chest. A lobster fisherman. I imagined those muscles were from hauling traps or whatever a fisherman did. I would have to research it, curious.

The thought irritated me. I wanted to just feel, to enjoy. But I had a million things flipping through my head, one right after the other. It was like my brain glanced at a thought for a split second, then I swiped the screen and saw the next one. Muscles, fishing, the physics of kissing, the sweetness of the booze still on my tongue, what time it was, whether or not Bella was home already, curiosity about what it would feel like to have a man inside me…swipe, swipe, swipe.

Stop it, stop it, I told myself.

Cain pulled back but hovered in close to me, his eyes locked on mine. He tapped my forehead. “Quit thinking, Sophie. Your thoughts are so loud I feel like you’re screaming in my ear.”

That surprised me. No one ever realized how frantic my brain could be. If they knew I was thinking, contemplating, they imagined it was an orderly math equation. Or they never thought about it at all. They didn’t understand the assault, the anxiety of needing to assess every angle of every situation. If I could flip Cain on and off like the light switch to test the flow of electricity, I would.

“I can’t help it,” I said.

“What are you thinking?” He straightened up, sat back on his stool so he wasn’t right in my space anymore, and I regretted it.

“It doesn’t matter.” It didn’t. “That was a good kiss.” It had been.

Cain studied me, the corner of his mouth turning up. “Good.” He reached around me and lifted his drink. He took it all down with one swallow and wiped his mouth. “I think I already know you.”

I frowned before I could stop myself. “What do you mean?”

“See, when someone is ordinary, when they play by the same rules as everyone else, same words, moves, it’s impossible to know them. To see what’s going on in here.” He tapped the side of my head softly. “But you’re different. And that makes it easier to know you. Your words are really yours.”

There are a lot of social situations where I don’t know what is expected of me or what I should say. But this was different. It wasn’t that I didn’t understand the expectation. It’s that without meaning to, Cain had made me feel vulnerable. Because for the first time in a long time I had the oddest sense that he got me. He was pretty damn perceptive for a guy I had just met on the random.

“I’m honest to a fault,” I said. “I can’t help it.”

“I do like that about you. A whole fucking lot. But that’s not what I’m talking about.” His eyes stayed trained on me yet he still gestured to the bartender for another drink.

“You’re not driving, are you?” the bartender asked him.

“Dude, what am I, stupid?” Cain said, breaking away from me to glance over at the bartender. “Of course not. Just give me the fucking drink and stop trying to be my mom.”

Darryl shook his head but he did start pouring another drink. I thought about how many Cain had drunk already. Four? Mine. His. Two more of his here. Possibly one before I had encountered him. He didn’t seem even remotely drunk though. No slurring, stumbling. His eyes were clear.

“You must have a high tolerance for alcohol,” I said.

He gave a snort. “Too high. Do you want another drink?”

I shook my head. I had a slight buzz and I didn’t want that to increase. I wanted to feel everything he was going to do to me.

“Your place or mine?” he asked.

His hands had fallen to my knees and he was stroking my skin softly, working his way a little higher with each pass. “Yours, please.” Bella would have a heart attack if I brought him back to our house. There would be no enjoying sex with her freaking out in the background. “Do you live alone or with your family?”

He paused in reaching for his drink. “I live alone. You couldn’t pay me to live with my family.”

“Perfect.” I meant for us, in terms of intimacy, but when he laughed I realized how insensitive it had sounded. “I mean, not that it’s great that you don’t want to live with your family, but—”

He held his hand up. “I get it. You’re very cute and funny whether you mean to be or not. Let’s go, Sophie Bigelow.”

I took a sip of my drink. It tasted overly sweet and my nerves came back. Maybe this was insane. Going home with a guy I didn’t know. I looked at the bartender, Darryl. His eyebrows rose in question. “Am I safe if I go home with Cain?” I asked. I wanted a record of where I was.

Cain snorted.

Darryl eyed his cousin then me. “I can guarantee he won’t rape or murder you, if that’s what you’re asking.”

I nodded.

“But you might not be safe from his stupidity.”

“Is there anything specific I should be concerned about?” I asked, serious. I couldn’t imagine what Darryl meant by “stupidity.”

Cain choked on the drink he had been swallowing. He coughed, laughing. “Holy shit, that was funny.”

“Well, I think the drink in his hand is probably his biggest example of stupid these days.”

“Fuck off,” Cain said mildly.

I imagined there was some truth to that. The drink in his hand was almost empty already. “I don’t think that’s of any particular relevance for our short acquaintance. Though I wish him the best post-hookup.”

For some reason that made Cain laugh harder. Darryl eyed me. “I think you may be the first girl I’ve ever seen him with who knows exactly what she’s dealing with.” He stuck his hand out. “I want to shake your hand.”

I took Darryl’s hand and shook it automatically. I almost asked if Cain took girls home a lot but I stopped myself. My curiosity would come off as jealousy or neediness. I didn’t really care. What I cared about was what he could do for me. To me. “Thanks for your help,” I said. “Can we close out our tab?”

Darryl grinned. “You know what? This is on me.” He turned to Cain. “Be good to this one, man. She’s something special.”

That made me so uncomfortable I slid off the stool, ready to leave. “Special” was not a label I wanted. It was right there with “different” to me. Freak, weirdo, OCD. All those labels that shouldn’t matter but did on some level. I didn’t want to be special to Cain. A charity fuck. I just wanted him to want me. “Thanks,” I said, and reached in my purse for a tip. I put a five down on the bar.

Cain finished his drink. “You done with this?” he asked, gesturing to mine. I nodded. So he finished that too. “It’s a sin to waste alcohol.”

“You can still run,” Darryl told me.

That was the last thing I wanted to do. “If Little Red Riding Hood didn’t go into the house, there would be no story,” I said.

Cain made a sound in the back of his throat. It was almost a growl. Like I had both startled him and turned him on. He rose to his full height, a tall, masculine presence radiating sexual tension. He bent down and kissed me, hard. “Let’s go write that ending.”

---

“You don’t mind walking, do you?” I asked Sophie as we hit the sidewalk outside the Thirsty Moose. The cool air felt amazing. The bar had been hot, Sophie hotter. She could do things to me with one guileless gaze. With a simple sentence. A solemn little kiss.

“No.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I glanced at it. Darryl.

Don’t fuck with that girl. Seriously.

I ignored him. Why the hell did he care? He never had before when I talked to chicks. I had a crumpled pack of cigarettes in my back pocket and I pulled it out and retrieved one. I had a buzz. The good kind. Where I was flying high, feeling entertained and amused by everything. The kind where your body says take more, more, more, of everything you can get. Nicotine, alcohol, sex. Grab it all.

“This way,” I told her, gesturing north up the street. “It’s about a ten-minute walk.” I paused to light my cigarette. I don’t smoke that often, but when I do it’s always after ten at night or when I’m out of booze.

She didn’t say anything, glancing at her own phone. I wondered if she was having second thoughts. That would be really damn disappointing. I was looking forward to peeling that dress off of Sophie more than I had anything in a long fucking time. I could hear the waves lapping against the rock and the docks. I love the sound of the water. It’s the most soothing thing in my life. I can close my eyes and let it rock me out of my worst anger.

There was a light breeze bringing the smell of the sea salt to my nostrils. I breathed in deeply, the scent mingling with the sweet tobacco of the burning cigarette. This was as close to not miserable as I got and I wanted to enjoy it. I couldn’t call it happy. That was an exaggeration. So, not happy. But not miserable.

I wondered if Sophie was drunk. She didn’t seem like she was. And she’d only had two drinks. But not everyone was immune to alcohol the way I was. Either way, I appreciated that she didn’t bend my ear with fucking nothing words. I half expected her to ask me things like how long had I lived in Camden and why was I fighting with my family, but she didn’t. She didn’t even make passing comments about the weather. It only improved my mood.

“This is it,” I said when we finished climbing the hill and my rental house clung to the side of a curve in the road. It was surrounded by trees, needed a coat of paint, and looked like potentially it might topple over at any given moment, but I liked this shabby-looking house. It felt like me. Dark, defiant. The rent was cheap but that wasn’t really why I lived here. I actually make good money and am sitting on a pile of it in the bank because my spending habits are not over-the-top. I live here because there is no view of any other house. Just trees and cars speeding by on the road.

Plus, I can walk to the bar.

“Do you have any roommates?” she asked.

I liked the way her mind was moving. “Nope. Just you and me.”

“That’s good.” She walked up the driveway beside me. “I didn’t know you smoke. You didn’t smell or taste like cigarettes before.”

“I don’t smoke on the regular. I just felt like having one.” If I was courteous I would offer to brush my teeth or shower, but something about that annoyed me. I don’t like being judged, so I didn’t offer anything.

Sophie didn’t look like she cared one way or the other though. She just looked curious, like she was trying to figure me out. Little did she know there was no figuring me out. I unlocked the front door and pushed it open. “After you.”

There was a light on in the living room. I always left one on now after too many nights stumbling in drunk and nearly killing myself on a piece of furniture in the dark. I may not have my shit entirely together, but my house isn’t dirty. I don’t like clutter and I know how to clean. So while it wasn’t exactly from a page of a magazine, it wasn’t a pigsty either and I didn’t hesitate to take Sophie by the hand and lead her into the living room. “Sit down. Do you want a drink? I have whiskey or beer or water. Maybe soda.”

Sometimes I thought Sophie needed glasses. She blinked a lot and it seemed like she would be relieved if she actually had frames to push up on her nose, but she didn’t. “I’ll take a beer.” She sank down onto my couch, which was a very nondescript beige overstuffed monstrosity. She practically disappeared in the cushions.

“Sure.”

I went into the galley kitchen and opened the refrigerator. The shelves were pretty sparse but there was a six-pack of light beer, which I knew Sophie liked. I snagged one and twisted off the top. Then I drew the whiskey across the countertop to me. I debated on a glass, decided it was classier since I had company. I got a tumbler down and put two fingers in.

I carried both of them to the living room and handed the beer to Sophie.

“Thanks,” she said. She took a small sip. She had taken her shoes off and pulled her feet, covered in pink socks, under her legs.

Her panties were showing. That black dress was stretched taut across her thighs, and with her ankles crossed it created a perfect tunnel to her inner thighs. She was wearing black lace panties and I wanted to bend over and dive under that dress and taste her sweetness. My mouth went dry and I sat on the coffee table in front of her, sipping my whiskey.

“I can see up your dress,” I said. “Which might be an accident and it might embarrass you but I figure you should know. Or it might be on purpose, in which case, thank you. It’s an excellent view.”

Her cheeks turned pink. “It wasn’t on purpose. I didn’t realize you’d be able to see up my dress.”

Yet, she didn’t make a move to cover herself up. Damn. This girl. My cock grew hard. “But now you want me to look?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

Fuck. She was going to kill me. I wondered how many guys had seen this view. If any. Maybe I was the first. I didn’t deserve this kind of privilege but I sure as hell wasn’t going to turn it down. I studied her, head to toe, but spending a little extra time taking in what was under her dress. She didn’t flinch.

I reached behind my head and pulled my T-shirt off. “It’s hot in here.” The house was too old and too Maine to have air-conditioning. I had a window unit in my bedroom but the living room was just left to swelter if it got hot outside. I wasn’t sure how warm the air really was or if it was just me, watching Sophie.

She seemed to think my words and action were meant to be returned by her. She peeled her socks off and carefully folded them and set them on the table next to me. If I had to see her remove an article of clothing those little socks were the ones I cared the least about. But it amused me. Sophie amused me on the regular. It was a strange break in my usual life. I wondered if she knew what she was offering me, besides her virginity.

Her body was an offer I couldn’t refuse but she was giving me even more than that. A night that would shatter my boredom, my pattern of drinking, to oblivion. She was going to be a much-needed distraction from my hatred, my self-destruction, my persistent defiance, and stubborn determination to be miserable.

Sophie took another sip of her beer and stared at me, waiting.

It was clear she wanted me to take the lead and I welcomed that. I wanted to take her innocence, coax it to something new. That awakening she had mentioned. I wanted her aware of me, sure, but mostly I wanted her aware of herself. Of her own body.

“Come here.” I crooked my finger at her.

“What do you mean?” she asked, and she looked vulnerable in a way that touched my bitter and black heart. She licked her lips, uncertain. Her feet fell to the floor.

“Climb on my lap, facing me,” I instructed. “One knee on either side of me. I want to kiss you.”

Her mouth opened and I knew she was about to ask some insane question about physics or my motivation. I shook my head. “Shh. Don’t worry. Tell me if you don’t like something. And tell me if you do like something. Otherwise don’t think, Sophie. Just feel.” I held my hand out to her.

She took my hand and let me pull her off the couch. But she said, “I don’t know how to do that.”

“I’m here to help.” I did exactly nothing of value on a daily basis. Sure, I did my job correctly and efficiently, but I couldn’t claim to be a person who was walking around paying it forward. I was a sour-faced dick most of the time and everyone knew it. I knew it. But if I was going to be selfish and enjoy Sophie’s naked company, the least I could do was make this right for her.

My little protégé could go forth and fuck after I was done with her. Such a nice guy. The thought made me smile as she climbed onto my lap, her dress rolling up her thighs so that her warm flesh pressed against the denim of my jeans.

Holding her by the back of her hips I bent over and sucked the swell of her breast in between my lips. Soft, luscious tits.

Yeah. Such a nice fucking guy.

Perching on Cain’s lap was precarious but I didn’t care because he felt amazing. I had my hands placed on his hard shoulders and my thighs spread. He was doing things with his mouth to my chest and I wished I had a T-shirt on so I could yank it off like he had. I wanted to be naked.

Somehow he managed to peel the tight dress down and expose my nipples. They just seemed to burst forward out of the top of the boost bra. At first I wasn’t sure anything was happening when he started sucking one. I had never thought of them as a particularly sensitive part of my body. But he was persistent. He just dedicated himself to sliding his tongue over the tautness, occasionally switching from one to the other. When he wasn’t sucking one, he was rolling it between his fingertips, and that callused skin was rough and arousing. Without me even meaning for it to happen, he started to call up desire from deep inside me. Each tug and twist, lathe and suck, drew an answering response down in my core, where my body had a knowledge I didn’t.

He briefly pulled back and looked up at me with those pale blue eyes, so unreadable, so sexy and slumberous. “Do you like that?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He reached over and lifted his glass and took a sip. Then he offered it to me.

For whatever reason, I actually nodded. Not because it seemed polite. But because I had never had straight whiskey and I was curious. He raised the glass to my lips and fed it to me, an interesting sensation. It felt reckless and silly and sexy. I took a tiny sip and swallowed the acrid, bitter taste before it could linger in my mouth. It burned all the way down my throat, causing me to shudder. But, oddly, it settled down into my pussy, a hot, wet burn, making me even more aware of my ache.

I wondered if he would just shift me onto his cock like this and how that would feel. I was aware of the thick press of him against my thigh and that logistically this was a premium position.

“Not a whiskey fan?” he asked.

“I think I like beer better.”

“Want me to get it?”

I shook my head. “I’m not thirsty.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “Are you hungry, Sophie?”

His hands were on my ass and he was shifting my dress, easing it farther up so that it ended up bunched around my waist. It was distracting. As was the question. “I suppose it depends on what you mean by that question.” I knew he didn’t mean actual cuisine. “Do you mean am I hungry, as in, hungry for sex? Is my desire stirred? Or was that a suggestion that I put something in my mouth such as your cock?”

I would never learn if I didn’t ask for clarity. I knew I wasn’t stellar at flirtation and I wanted to improve. I thought it was a fair question. Bella would have died if she had heard me ask something like that. But Cain just watched me.

“Fair enough. I don’t want you to suck my dick, Soph. Not yet.”

I was actually disappointed. That was the one thing I felt confident doing.

“I want to focus on you,” he said.

Cain kissed me again and I forgot about my oral sex skills. I could show those off later. Right now he was doing things to me everywhere, making me question how many hands he had. As he took my mouth he started me on a rhythm, rocking my hips forward on him, mimicking sex. It forced my clit to collide with that bulge in his pants, and my bare nipples to brush against his warm skin. His grip on my ass was tight, possessive, and for some reason, I liked that. It felt solid. Like I wouldn’t fall. But also like he wouldn’t give this moment up easily.

He wanted me.

And damn, did I want him.

I held on to his shoulders and kissed him back enthusiastically, tangling my tongue with his. I found the rhythm with him, and helped create a more powerful impact between our bodies by rocking my hips along with the push he was giving me. I spread my legs farther instinctively.

“Tell me what to do,” I said, because I thought there was no way this was doing anything for him. He was a grown man and I was still wearing panties.

“Relax. You are doing something.”

All my nerve endings felt splayed open. I had an urgency that I wasn’t expecting, and I felt impatient and annoyed with his casualness. Didn’t he understand the point was to push through this? To just get it over with? That’s what I had told him. He should understand that he should behave like a lot of guys and just take it. Just get his rocks off and be done.

Yet, Cain looked like he had all night. He looked at me like I was his bottle of whiskey. He wanted small sips and big swallows, but he wanted the whole bottle over the entire night.

I dug my nails into his skin, needing to ground myself. I wasn’t trying to arouse him, but it seemed to have that effect. He made a sound in the back of his throat. “Harder.”

“What?” I wasn’t sure what he meant.

“Dig in harder.” He dug his own fingers into my ass harder as he spoke, presumably to show me what he meant.

The grip was on the verge of painful yet weirdly exciting. I applied more pressure to his shoulders. He bent forward and pulled my nipple in his mouth again. Then he nipped it. I jerked backward, almost falling off his lap. “What was that?” I asked automatically, shocked.

But it wasn’t a bad feeling. In fact, now that I thought about it, it made my inner thighs dampen. Like instantly. That was interesting.

“I bit you.”

“Do it again,” I said. I wanted to see if the first response would repeat a second time.

“Sure, babe.” He drew my nipple into his mouth and bit it again, a little harder this time.

I gasped. “That’s surprisingly pleasurable.”

He didn’t speak. He just flicked his tongue over my nipple and found the zipper on the back of my dress. He worked it down with both hands. It sounded very loud in the quiet room. I shivered a little as the dress gaped open.

The house wasn’t cold. I just wasn’t used to having hands brush over my back.

But when I would have thought he would pull the dress over my head he just eased his hands inside it and caressed my lower back, and the swell of my ass. I didn’t understand Cain’s choreography. It was an odd sensation for someone who loves control. It didn’t allow me to completely relax. Yet, I knew he had to be the one in charge, because he was the one with the experience.

Cain pressed both of my nipples together to suckle them both simultaneously, which felt good, but was also odd enough that I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. Nor did I understand his motivation. What was in that for him? Did all men do that? I wasn’t sure if that was standard procedure or not.

“You’re thinking again,” he said, his breath tickling my flesh.

I had no defense. It was the truth. “Does it matter?”

He nodded. “Yes, it matters. You’re supposed to feel, not dissect.”

It felt like a criticism. I sank back on his thighs, away from his cock. “I told you I don’t know what to do.” My dress felt stupid bunched up at the hem and yanked down at the top and flapping open in the back. I pulled it back over my breasts, not wanting to be so exposed.

“Tell me what you like.” Cain brushed my hair back off my cheek and buried his hand in my locks. “And do whatever feels right, Sophie.”

“I don’t know what feels right.” I didn’t. Rocking on him felt good but it wasn’t what I needed. I didn’t know how to advance what we were doing to the next level.

My best friend Cassie always told me, when in doubt with a guy, suck his dick. That seemed like a good solution for my current dilemma. If I did that, he would want intercourse fairly quickly. It was foolproof. I shifted back off him.

“Where are you going?”

“Down here.” I dropped down onto the carpet, trying not to wonder when it had last been deep-cleaned. I reached for his jeans.

But Cain stopped me. He shook his head. “No, I don’t want you to do that.”

That puzzled me. Again. “Why not?”

“Because you’re doing it to take the focus off of you. I don’t want that for you.” He cupped my cheeks. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured. “Do you even know that?”

Without meaning to, I shook my head. “My sister is beautiful.”

“Your sister looks like a million other blondes. You are completely unique and I find you fucking gorgeous.”

The intensity of those blue eyes was almost overwhelming. I felt something swell in me that I didn’t understand. It felt like he was offering me…acceptance. That was more than I had been expecting to get and it caught me completely off guard. I could drown in those blue eyes if I wasn’t careful. I could feel him prying open the door to my defenses whether he meant to or not.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “But I swear I didn’t mean for you to give me compliments.”

“They’re freely given. I’ve never met anyone like you.”

I was on the floor still, leaning against his knees. His hands still enveloped me, and I hated myself for feeling whatever it was I was feeling. Emotion. So messy and complicated. The room was dim, and I couldn’t see him as clearly as I wanted to behind the stupid-ass false eyelashes. I kept blinking and it was annoying. Reaching up I peeled one off and slapped it down onto the side of my beer bottle. It stuck there.

“Ow, doesn’t that hurt?” he asked, astonished.

“No. It just tugs. And I want to be able to see you without fake hair impairing my vision.” I removed the other one and set it beside the first on the bottle.

Cain looked like he was fighting the urge to laugh. He lifted the bottle and tilted it. “Jesus. How do girls wear those things?”

“I have no idea.” I pressed my eyelids to ease the slight sting. “That’s better. Now I can see you clearly.”

He took a sip of the beer then set it back down. He studied me. “You look better natural. You don’t need all that crap.”

“My boobs aren’t this big either. It’s a push-up bra.”

“Oh, I am well aware of what is going on with your tits. I’m very happy with what I found.” He winked at me.

Cain looking bored and nonchalant was attractive enough. Cain smoldering was sexy as hell. Cain winking? Dead. I was basically dead from the beauty of it. I lifted the beer and took my own sip.

“I need you to get off the floor,” Cain said. “So I can stand up.”

I did, rolling my dress back down over my thighs. It was still gaping open in the back but I was mostly covered. The Washington Apple buzz had worn off and I bent over and grabbed the beer. I was thirsty and I could hear my phone chiming in my purse on the table. Bella was probably blowing up my phone.

Cain rose to his feet and tossed back the small amount of whiskey left in his glass. He had kicked off his sandals at some point and he padded barefoot and bare-chested back to the kitchen, refilling the glass. He didn’t sip this serving, he just took it all down, his expression giving no indication of any burn of the booze. He didn’t flinch or react at all.

His house was small and dated, but it was clean. There weren’t shoes or laundry or old pizza boxes sitting around like guys I knew in college. It was tidy, though stark. There was no art on the walls or anything personal like family photos. He had mentioned his family irritably, but I wasn’t sure if that just meant he wouldn’t live at home again or if he genuinely didn’t get along with his family. Given the lack of photos maybe it was the latter. Not that it mattered.

Cain wasn’t an equation for me to solve. He was just here and now. A very delicious means to an end. But I did like him. I could admit that to myself. Which made it all feel very surreal that I was here, in his living room, somewhere in Maine, with my dress unzipped, my bra compromised, and my fake eyelashes off. While he poured another drink I texted Bella back, who was, as assumed, freaking out. I told her I was still at the bar, just to calm her down.

Then I tried to determine how much whiskey Cain had consumed but I didn’t know how many ounces were in a glass. Besides, he had been drinking out of different-size glasses all night. Suffice it to say it was more than the recommended daily allowance. I wondered if he would be insta-drunk. Fine one minute, trashed the next. Because he seemed fully functional. But I didn’t know him.

It seemed I shouldn’t want to know him. Cain was no stranger to the bar. And there had to be a reason for that. I was curious what that reason was.

There I went—thinking again.

What had he told me? Most questions don’t have answers.

Or maybe more accurate, most questions didn’t have simple answers.

Also, life wasn’t like math because it wasn’t predictable.

When Cain came back into the living room he had his phone in his hand and he turned on music. Nineties grunge rock. He came right up to me and kissed me, one that I felt all the way to the tips of my toes.

“Come to my room,” he murmured.

I waited for something clever and seductive to come to mind as a response, but my brain flipped through a dozen or so phrases quickly and they all seemed so unlike me. So corny. It would be more distracting than seductive. So I settled for what seemed like an answer most men would appreciate. I took the neckline of my dress and pushed it down to my waist then over my hips. It dropped to the floor with a soft thump and I stepped out.

Cain swore as he took in the sight of me in nothing but my bra and panties. “Is that a yes?”

“Absolutely,” I said, and I took his outstretched hand. My heart was racing and my body felt prickly with anticipation. I don’t have any particular body issues or insecurities. Sure, I’m on this side of short, and what woman doesn’t wish she was a little thinner, but overall I’m satisfied with what I’ve been given. I have a curvier shape than my sister, but it’s proportionate, and my anecdotal research would lead me to believe some men prefer hips and ass to stick-straight.

I have no particular reason to feel shy and I was never one who minded changing around other girls in gym class or undressing in front of my boyfriend.

But it hadn’t made me feel empowered either. Sensual. But when Cain drank me in with his eyes I felt like Aphrodite, goddess of sexuality. I didn’t stand there as an innocent Little Red Riding Hood not understanding what she was about to encounter. I craved what was coming.

It was ten steps down the hallway and it felt like forever. I actually counted the steps because it felt endless. But then Cain was moving through the doorway into a dark room, taking me right to the edge of his bed in the moonlight. God, there was moonlight. I shivered at the perfection in that. Even a mathematician likes a little moonlight to set the mood. I tossed my hair back over my shoulders as Cain bent to turn on the lamp on his bedside table.

“Don’t,” I said.

He hesitated. “I want to see you, but if you’re uncomfortable, that’s fine.”

“I like the moonlight,” I said. “It’s beautiful.” It was, casting its soft, white glow around a small, but again, tidy room. Cain’s bed wasn’t made, which was slightly distressing to me, but there were no dirty clothes or overflowing laundry baskets at first glance.

“Then let’s get more of it.” Cain went to the second window and flicked the blinds open. It killed the dark corners to the right of the bed.

I sat down on his bed, the creak of the mattress muffled by the music drifting from his phone. Nirvana. Yikes. That seemed like a band I didn’t want to lose my virginity to. But I had to assume the song would change before penetration so I could only hope for a better follow-up.

Cain undid his jeans and shoved them off. He was wearing black boxer briefs and nothing else, not even a smile, as he sat down next to me. I felt fifteen years old again, anticipating a kiss. But when he closed the space between us and pressed his lips to mine, this was no fumbling first attempts in a friend’s basement rec room. This was all demanding man, taking what he wanted. This was hot tongue and possessive marksmanship.

He had one hand in the back of my hair, holding me tight to him. I gripped his waist, needing something to hold on to as passion exploded between us. Each plunge of his tongue into my moist heat mimicked what I knew would be next and I felt restless, eager. Wet. My breathing was shallow and I knew this was why I was doing this—because if I was experienced, what I would do now was shove him down and climb on top and ride him. It felt like I needed that. To get on and make this ache go away.

But I didn’t want to wreck the rhythm and I knew I couldn’t figure out the physics this first go-around. So I just let him kiss me over and over until my nipples were hard, my lips swollen, my body aching. Cain eased me down onto the bed and I went willingly, my eyes drifting shut as his mouth teased over my nipple. He undid my bra and it slid to the floor as his hand cupped my breast hard, squeezing with more force than finesse. I didn’t even care. My thoughts just rolled around in my brain but they weren’t as urgent, as demanding. I felt relaxed, languid. Easy.

The word made me smile.

“What has you grinning?” Cain asked, reaching up to stroke his thumb over my bottom lip.

“I’m just enjoying myself.” Wordplay was not worth discussing right this moment. I had more important things for him to concentrate on.

“Good.” Cain was over me, a dark, sexy shadow in the dim room. I couldn’t really read his expression, but he looked serious, intense. He eased my panties down over my hips, my knees.

They disappeared over my feet and I felt decadently naked, goosebumps rising on my skin in spite of the warm room. It was more from the shiver of knowing that I was one hundred percent bare to him. His bed was soft, bereft of blankets. I was just on a threadbare sheet that caressed my naked flesh. I didn’t sleep in the nude ever and this was an odd but delicious sensation. Cain’s hand eased between my legs and I shifted to accommodate him, wanting him to get me off. I felt more than ready.

He stroked my clit, sliding his thumb down to tease at my folds. I was wet and he gave a soft groan of approval. “You want this, don’t you?” he asked. “You want my cock.”

“Yes.”

His finger stroked deeply, increasing in tempo slightly. I moaned.

“You can’t have it yet,” he said.

Which was flat out insulting because I could feel it pressing against my leg. I understood now why people claimed dicks were throbbing. His was doing something when I reached down between us and palmed its thickness in my fist. “No?” I asked. “I can’t have this?”

He swore under his breath. “Not yet.” He pushed my hand away and nipped at my breast before trailing his lips down over my stomach.

Before I could stop him, he was flicking his tongue over my clit. I jerked and tried to clamp my legs shut. This was new territory for me, because one, my college boyfriend was secretly gay, so going down on me wasn’t going to be at the top of his list. But two, I have obsessive feelings about hygiene and this seemed like a rather unfortunate placement for his face. I knew women in general loved being on the receiving end but I just felt weird and self-conscious. Was it any different really than him burying his head in my armpit? It seemed that technically, no, it wasn’t offering anything different from less quote unquote desirable parts of my body.

“Sophie.” He paused to glance up at me, my thighs squeezing his face so tightly his cheeks and mouth were bulging. “This isn’t an MMA match. Ease up on your grip.”

I was mildly embarrassed but mostly determined to skip this part. “I don’t want to do this.”

He went still. “This? Like, all of this?”

“No, just this.” I gestured wildly to his head. It was so awkward to have him between my legs. I felt like I was birthing a six-foot-one hottie. No one could genuinely enjoy it. “I’ve never done this. I don’t like it.”

For a second Cain just stared at me. “Never?”

I shook my head.

I thought he would move away and I lay back down, relieved it might be over and we could go back to where his fingers were doing intriguing things to me, when instead he clamped my legs down. I let out a shriek and tried to smack at his head. “Cain.”

I meant to say stop or no because without warning his mouth dropped onto my clit and he sucked and I saw stars. Legitimately, something inside my entire being shifted, an earthquake of epic proportions. “I don’t think that…” Whatever I was going to say was lost when his tongue lathed down my slit and teased inside me.

“That’s right, don’t think.”

“I don’t…” This time I lost the thought even earlier as he slipped a finger inside my heat, working his tongue and finger in tandem.

His free hand snaked up and his thumb and forefinger rolled my nipple between them. I groaned.

“I…” There was nothing. No words. No thoughts. Just confusion and arousal and hot, wet want.

My eyes rolled back. My head fell to the side. My thighs drifted open, relaxed. Easy. There it was again. Easy. Everything with Cain could be easy if I just let it be. He didn’t speak. He just let his tongue do the talking. I couldn’t have explained or described the precise mechanics of what he was doing, I just felt like he was everywhere. He licked and sucked and stroked. Pussy, clit, nipples. Even though I felt frantic, his movements were steady, controlled, never rushed, never lazy.

Briefly I watched the top of his head, his dark hair the only thing really visible, but then I fell backward, staring at the ceiling from beneath half-closed eyes. I tried to count the strokes. The licks. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t hold on to anything except the overwhelming sensation of wet, tingling awesomeness. It shocked me to the core, literally, when I came in a big, powerful orgasm.

My back arched and I let out a cry, swept under by the waves of ecstasy. My mind was a blissful void of nothing but amazing pleasure. My fingers curled into the sheet and I might have actually thrown him off unintentionally if he hadn’t held on to me with an iron grip, pinning me to the bed, his strokes continuing as endlessly as my orgasm. Finally, I breathed, “Holy shit,” and shoved frantically at his head. It felt like my body might splinter if he didn’t stop.

Cain sat back and wiped his mouth, looking as smug as anyone I’d ever encountered in my entire life. He peeled his briefs off and opened a drawer of the nightstand, removing a condom. I lay there, thighs trembling, breathing hard. It felt like I should attempt to close my legs, be artful and beautiful, but I couldn’t move at all. After he had the condom on, he hauled my knees up.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he murmured, bending down to give me a kiss.

I tasted my own desire on his lips and it was…strange. Yet sexy.

When he pushed inside me it was momentarily uncomfortable, a huge, invasive beast somewhere it shouldn’t be. But then my body gave way for him and it felt right. The world’s most perfect fit. I must have made a sound of distress though, my fingers digging into his biceps, because he paused.

“You okay?” he asked. His hand lifted and trailed down my cheek, drawing goosebumps from my dewy flesh. He wore a necklace. A cross. It dangled back and forth in front of me and I shifted my gaze upward, away from it, locking with his pale blue eyes.

I nodded. “Yes.” It was odd to think that his body was inside mine in the world’s most scientific form of intimacy. The chemistry of desire. Survival instinct. Maybe that was why I didn’t feel vulnerable or awkward having a total stranger connecting with me. It was written in our DNA. As old as time, the galaxy, and the stars.

So he started to move, slowly, and I lay there and let my body understand it. His teeth were gritted and his muscles were all firm and bunched, tension in his shoulders, his arms. Each stroke was easier, deeper. Wetter. I lifted my hips, rocking in motion, startled by how good it felt to collide with his hard cock.

“Oh, yes,” I murmured. I don’t even know why I spoke. I just felt electric, hot, strung tight in his sweet, hard pleasure.