I reach for Maddox’s hand, wrapped around me and holding me spooned against him. I slide it from under me and move it down my belly. “Touch me,” I whisper, moving his hand down and tucking it between my legs. I open my knees, hooking my top leg over his so he has access.
He cups my mound through my pajamas, pulling me tighter against him and making the softest sound of pleasure in his throat.
I squirm against him. “Touch me,” I whisper again.
“I am touching you,” he whispers back.
“More,” I say, rocking against his hand.
“More what?” he asks, and I wonder if he was teasing me all along, if he knew how hard this is for me, how wet I am, that I’m lying here writhing with need.
“Finger me,” I whisper, surprising myself with how bold I am.
He sucks in a breath, and I feel his cock throb against me again. “Little girl,” he says. “You’re asking for it.”
“I am,” I whisper. “And I’m not a little girl.”
“Then tell me what you want,” he growls into my ear, adjusting his position to cradle my head on his thick bicep like he did last time. His fingers fist my hair while his other hand kneads into the flesh between my legs, making me grind into his palm and bite down on my lip so I don’t whimper for relief.
“I want you fingers inside me,” I whisper. “Make me cum like last time.”
“Where?” he asks. “Tell me where you want my fingers, little girl. In your pussy or your ass?”
“Both,” I breathe. “Please.”
I’m tired of being afraid. I’m tired of hiding. I want him to have me, to take me, to break me and make me his in every way, even if only for a night.
“Fuck,” he breathes, dipping his hand into the top of my pajamas. He works it down the front of my panties and takes a slow, shuddering breath as he teases open my lips and dips a finger into my slit. His cock pulses against my ass, and I whimper with arousal.
“God, you’re so fucking wet,” he growls. His arm flexes as he drives a finger deep inside me in one slow, firm motion. Squeezing his hand closed, he fists my pussy, holding my hips in place as firmly as my head and grinding his cock against me so hard it hurts.
When he pulses his finger inside me, I bite down on my lip to stifle a cry of pleasure. Maddox pushes up on his elbow, gripping my hair and turning my head to his. His mouth comes down on mine, stifling my sounds of pleasure. He devours them like a starving man who’s finally found sustenance, entering me with a finger while his tongue enters my mouth. I give myself, letting him do what he wants to me, push a second finger into me and then use one on my ass and two in my pussy, stroking my clit with his thumb until I explode, my cries muffled and swallowed by his rough, demanding kisses.
At last, he lays back, his chest heaving against my back. I can feel sweat sticking my shirt to me, and I sit up enough to tug it off, lying back and letting my sweat mingle with the sweat on his chest. I halfway expect him to send me back to my bed, since this seems more intimate than what I expect from a man like Maddox, and the thunder is faraway now. Only the faintest flickers of lightning bounce off the wall every few minutes, but the rain continues to fall. When he doesn’t protest the intimate contact like he did at the pool that day, I snuggle down into his arms, relishing the delicious soreness of his fingers still buried inside me and the thrill of our bare skin pressed together.
He doesn’t say a word, just fits his body tightly around mine and begins to relax, even though he’s still hard against my back. Every few minutes, his fingers twitch inside me as his muscles fire off a little spasm of energy until he goes completely still, his breathing deep and slow when he’s asleep.
He did it. He distracted me from the storm and my dream, just like the last time, when they distracted me from my worries about Lee. I know I’m doing something reckless, that anyone would tell me I was insane to take this leap with no parachute. Hell, I’m telling myself I’m insane. I’m not the girl who lets herself fall. I’m the girl who likes solid ground underfoot.
But I’m not afraid. For once, I’m not afraid.
I know he’ll break my heart, but I’m ready to break. Not just by him, but by both of them. I’m not just a virgin because I’ve never had sex. I’ve never experienced anything. I’ve been alone so long, even when I had friends. I’ve never been in love. I’ve never had my heart broken. And I’m ready to do those things, ready to stop protecting my heart and lend it to someone else. I want to feel that terrifying thrill when I trust them with it, just like the terrifying thrill of letting Maddox come into my room and trusting him with my body tonight. Maybe he didn’t take my virginity tonight, but he could have. And I wouldn’t have stopped him.
I’ve guarded myself like a secret for so long, built a shell around my heart like a mother bird protecting her chick, keeping everyone out. But now I want them to see what’s inside my shell. I want to emerge, spread my wings, and show off the parts of myself I’ve kept hidden away for so long, hoarding them like treasure when they were never meant to be mine. A heart isn’t to keep. It’s to give away.
I want these Crow boys to have it, even knowing they’ll handle my heart carelessly, make my deepest fears come true. I can already tell that loving them will change me, leave me forever scarred. They’ll leave marks on my heart that will last as long as the ink on their skin.
That thought has terrified me for so long. I don’t let people in because I know I’ll be hurt. If my own mother won’t protect me, why would anyone else? If the people who are supposed to love me hurt me the most, why wouldn’t the people who owe me nothing?
But in some strange way, I’m ready to be hurt. I want to love just so I’ll know I’m not alone. I want to hurt because it proves that I loved, maybe even that someone loved me. If that’s the price of not being alone with my heart anymore, then I’m ready to pay that price.
I already know they won’t treat me gently. Maddox won’t treasure my heart. He doesn’t treasure anyone. He’ll hold it for a moment just to watch it beat for him and feel his power over me, and then he’ll crush it in his fist and discard it like a bad story idea scribbled hastily on a sheet of paper, never looking back when he walks away.
But loving them will be worth it.
No matter the pain, they’ll be worth it. To have loved them, to have been theirs. To have belonged to someone other than myself, to have entrusted them with the heart I kept locked up so long.
I’ll love the pain as much as I love the loving part. It’s all part of the same thing. The terror, the thrill, the exhilaration of the fall. The pleasure, the hurt, the hope and devastation. It’s all tied together, the threads winding into one rope. And if I admit what that thing is, what those strands of exquisite torment and aching beauty form, I know it’s love.