She fumbled and pushed at them. But she was stuck fast. Embarrassment scorched her insides. Who was she kidding? She didn’t know what the heck she was doing, and now he would know that too...
But instead of laughing at her, or calling her out for being the fraud she was, he stalked towards her.
‘To hell with this,’ he snarled. ‘I can’t wait any longer.’
Pushing her back onto the bed, he yanked at her laces, then tugged her boots and jeans and panties off with feral efficiency. The towel dropped away as he climbed on top of her, his big body pressing her down into the mattress, the turgid erection brushed against her thigh. Droplets of water from his hair touched her breasts. The snap as her bra released echoed against the rasps of her breathing.
Her fingers dived into the damp silky locks of his hair as his tongue flicked over one turgid nipple. She arched into his mouth, her body begging for more. As if he could read her mind, he captured the peak with his lips, the strong suction sending heat spiralling into her already wet and willing sex.
She bucked off the bed, soaring as blunt fingers found her slick folds. She sobbed. The feel of his fingers stretching her, driving her, his thumb circling, teasing, torturing.
Her nails scored down his back. It was too much. And yet not nearly enough.
‘Please...’ she moaned, scared to let go yet desperate to feel him there. Everywhere.
Sensation swelled and peaked—eddying out in undulating waves—as he finally found the heart of her with his thumb. She floated for one precious moment in a sparkling dream. Then crashed to earth, the glorious pleasure breaking over her.
He swore, and she could hear her own desperation of moments before in the fierce tone. Rolling her over, he drew her up on her knees. Like a rag doll, her will no longer her own, she allowed herself to be positioned, too drunk on afterglow to care as his muscular forearm banded round her waist and the huge head of his penis nudged her sex from behind.
She tensed against the thick invasion as he pressed into her—slowly, surely, relentlessly, butting against the tiny barrier, he surged past it.
She cried out, the brutal pleasure turning to stretching pain. He was too big—she could feel every inch of him, lodged so deep inside her, the staggered breaths tearing at her chest.
His arm tightened around her midriff, his breathing harsh against her neck as he stilled. ‘Bronte, what the—?’ His grunt of shock was both raw and accusatory. ‘Are you a virgin?’
She bit down on the urge to lie and deny it. It was pointless being ashamed of her inexperience now. ‘Not any more.’
He swore, and she got the opinion he didn’t much appreciate her joke.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ he demanded, still lodged inside her.
Her sex clenched and released, trying to bring back the glorious oblivion that had felt so good only moments before, but now made her feel overwhelmed, impaled.
‘Because it was none of your business,’ she said, wanting to sound tough, but the quiver in her voice was a dead giveaway.
‘Am I hurting you?’ he asked, moving his hand up to brush the hair away from her face.
She turned into his palm, not wanting him to see how overwhelmed she felt. ‘No,’ she said, wanting to mean it.
‘Don’t lie,’ he murmured.
His hand caressed her cheek, then slid down to cradle her breast. He kissed the back of her neck while he t
oyed with the nipple. The light, teasing pressure sent ribbons of sensation shuddering down to her tender core.
‘Maybe a little,’ she admitted, the brusque show of tenderness even more excruciating than the interrogation.
His hand left her breast and slid down to her sex. She groaned, the ribbons of sensation sparking through her body as he found the tight bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs.
She shuddered, her sex clasping hard now, massaging his penis.
‘Better?’ he asked, the strain in his voice matching her own.
‘Yes,’ she moaned. Her hips moved forward now, releasing the immense pressure, but then rocked back in a dangerous dance, her body greedy for its own destruction.
He used his thumb to stroke her into a frenzy, his own breathing rapid and uneven, but he didn’t move, didn’t thrust. He let her control the dance. The pain receded but the discomfort remained—he still felt so large.
But gradually the pleasure built, the ribbons becoming whips, stinging her skin, scouring her inside, forcing her towards a new ecstasy, so much more agonising but so much more intense and glorious than what had gone before.