Part of me’s not ready.

Part of me can’t wait for what’s next.

But then Clay’s climbing back into the bed and in the next moment, he’s over me. His mouth finds mine and then he’s kissing me with deep, hungry strokes of his tongue even as his weight settles over my body. And god, he feels incredible. The sensation of his weight pressing over me is surprisingly delicious, and I don’t protest when he puts a hand on the inside of my knee and pushes my thighs apart so he can move between my legs. His kisses are wildly distracting, and I wrap my arms around his neck, lost to the siren call of his incredible mouth. I love kissing him. I could cheerfully kiss for hours and never grow tired of it. How have I gone seven long years without kissing Clay Price? I’ve missed it so much.

I’ve missed him so much.

Clay reaches between us and his weight shifts on top of me. He braces one arm next to my head, and then I feel him drag the head of his cock up and down my folds. I squirm against him, sucking in a breath. “Clay?”

“S’okay, baby,” he murmurs, and presses light, feathery kisses to my mouth once more. “Just getting things good and slick so I can push inside you easier.” His tongue brushes against the seam of my mouth, and then he groans. “Love how fuckin’ wet you are, Nat. Feel how slick.”

And he drags the head of his cock up and down my folds again. I gasp when it brushes over my clit, sending little flutters of pleasure through my body again.

He kisses me again and then his weight shifts. The hard length of him is suddenly pressing against the entrance to my core, and it feels a little . . . intimidatingly large. I hold tightly on to him and close my eyes. I’m pretty sure this is going to hurt.

“I’ve got you, Nat,” he whispers. And then he pushes inside me.

It doesn’t hurt. Not exactly. But it doesn’t feel great, either. The overwhelming sensation is that of tightness, and little twinges of discomfort shoot through me. It’s not painful, but at the same time, it’s not exactly fun, either.

But Clay groans deeply, and he presses his face against my neck, his weight on top of me. “God, Nat. You feel incredible. You’re so . . . tight.”

“It does feel tight,” I say softly. Even if I’m not enjoying this part, I love his reaction to it. I’m sure it’ll get better with time, so I stroke his arm and just touch his skin, getting the pleasure I can out of this. Next time, it’ll be better. Next time it’ll be awesome. Heck, I already had one orgasm. More than that would just be greedy.

“Gonna go slow,” he rasps. “For you.”

I want to protest that he can go faster if it’ll speed things along, but then he pumps into me and I suck in a breath. Even though there was some discomfort with that, it also felt . . . good.

Clay’s mouth descends on mine again, even as he thrusts into me. I make a sound of surprise, because the ache is ebbing away and is quickly being replaced by a different kind of enjoyment. It doesn’t feel as intense as when he went down on me, but with each thrust, he rubs against something deep inside of me that feels better and better.

He lifts his mouth from mine. “Still hurt?”

I shake my head. There’s a lot of ways I could describe this, but “painful” isn’t one of them. As he continues to move on top of me, the enjoyable feeling slowly increases. I wouldn’t say it’s mind-blowing pleasure, but it has potential to get there, and I start to meet his thrusts with little raises of my hips, trying to increase the sensation.

As I do, Clay groans. “God, you’re so fuckin’ gorgeous, Nat.” He grabs my leg and hitches it around his hip. “Want you to come again. Love seein’ your face when you do. Love the sounds you make.”

Well, I kind of want to come again, too. I nod and keep lifting my hips in time with him, though I’m not as good at keeping a steady rhythm as he is. My movements become awkward and I pause, only to have him kiss me fiercely again. His hand goes to my breast and he squeezes it, even as he thrusts fiercely into me.

It feels so good that I whimper.

He makes a low sound in his throat and the hand at my hip holds me tighter. He pumps into me with renewed enthusiasm, as if by the sheer force of his will he can make me come.

It’s working, too. As his movements increase, so does my pleasure. His movements are rougher, our bodies flung together with great force, and the elusive feeling is becoming less and less elusive and more like a sure thing. “Clay,” I pant, digging my nails into his shoulders and squirming underneath him, as if that will somehow help. “Clay, please.”

“Need you to come,” he groans. “Please, baby. I’m so close. Don’t wanna go . . . without you.”

“Trying,” I whimper. But the more I think about it, the more it seems to slip away. It’s like I was close . . . and then suddenly not so much. Should I fake it just so he can finish?

But then he growls low in his throat and shifts his weight, and then I realize he’s not lying on top of me as much as he’s sitting back on his heels, cock still buried deep inside me. He studies my body, spread out below him, and then then puts a hand over the mound of my pussy. I can’t figure out what he’s doing until his thumb brushes over my clit, and he begins to give it little circles.

A hoarse cry escapes me. That—holy crap—that feels a thousand times more intense with his cock buried deep inside me than it did before. My entire body responds and I’m practically coming off the bed.

“That’s right,” Clay murmurs, and there’s deep satisfaction in his voice. “You come for me, baby. Come around my cock. Wanna feel it while I’m deep inside you.”

I can’t respond—I’m too busy squirming and sobbing. I’m completely incoherent, and it feels like the greatest pleasure ever—and like I’m trying to come out of my skin at the same time. Everything is just so intense.

This time, when I come, it feels as if all the air has been sucked out of the room. I’m gasping like a drowning woman, and when he keeps rubbing my clit, my gasping gets louder and louder, until I’m wailing my pleasure. I have to push his hand away before I can get my release, because it just keeps going.

Then, Clay is back over me again, driving hard into my pussy. He thrusts deep, over and over, and I’m coming all over again, and it’s that deep, intense feeling instead of the quick explosion.

“Can feel you,” he grits out. “Squeezin’ my cock.” He clenches my shoulder and buries his face against my neck, and then his entire body shudders against mine.

I’m barely aware as he surges over me in jerky motions, his own orgasm taking him. I’m too lost in mine, and in the pleasure that seems to flow on forever. I just feel so . . . good. Wrecked in the very best of ways.

Wow.

Clay shifts, and I realize he’s collapsed on top of me. His weight adjusts and then I can feel him slide out of my body. He leans in, presses a quick kiss to my mouth, and then bounds off the bed as if he’s got endless amounts of energy. Somehow. “Now, that,” he says, tossing a grin over his shoulder at me, “was the best thing I’ve ever paid for.”

It’s like a slap in the face. All the pleasure I’ve had vanishes in a single moment. He’s not wrong. He did pay for me.

I sold myself to someone for money. To my ex. And he hasn’t even tried to be nice about it.

Oh sure, he’s nice right now, but that’s because he just got laid. I look over at his sculpted, tanned body, watching his movements as he peels the condom off over a garbage can. He’s so different.

And I can’t quite forget what a jerk he’s been since he came back into my life. He’s been high-handed, rude, and he’s made me feel terrible. Like the comment just now.

This should have been a good moment, at least for a little while longer. Instead, I feel dirty.

I sit up in bed, tears pooling in my eyes. “Think I’m going to go clean up,” I manage, my voice hoarse.

Clay turns and looks over at me, a frown on his face. “You okay?”

I somehow force a smile to my face. “Fine.” And I rush for the bathroom, locking the door behind me. Once I’m inside, I put the lid down on the toilet and sit down. I’m trembling.

I knew what I was getting into. I just didn’t think his words would have the power to hurt me that much.

I thought that once I agreed to this, I’d be Teflon. I knew what I was getting into and it didn’t matter what he thought of me.

Stupid, stupid me.

Clay

She’s crying.

Nat’s trying really hard to be quiet, but even on this side of the door, I can hear her sniffles.

I feel like the world’s biggest asshole.

Here I thought the sex had been good. Great, even. My mind is still whirling with how good she felt underneath me, and I want nothing more than to fling that door open, drag her back to bed, and claim her again. I’m filled with possessiveness and the need to protect . . . but I don’t know what to do about her tears.

I’ve hurt her.

I don’t know if it’s because of the sex or if it’s because I had ta open my big mouth and remind her that I paid for her.

Either way, I fucked up. I don’t know how to fix it. I did pay for her. I forced her into my bed because I knew she was broke and desperate. I didn’t think I’d care. Thought I could be ruthless. A scoundrel.

I’m clearly an idiot, ’cause right about now, all I want is to comfort Natalie and prove to her how much I love her. That I ain’t never stopped lovin’ her.

But I made her cry after we had sex. If that ain’t a dick shriveler, I don’t know what is.

It’s clear I’ve been pushin’ too hard. The moment I saw her today, I made her kiss me. Made her dress up and dance to my tune at dinner, and then immediately took her back to the hotel and pawed her. I’m movin’ too fast. We dated for eighteen months in the past and I never made it below her belt. Now in the space of a day, I took her virginity.