Page 22

William

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Her skin is covered in goosebumps.

Even though we’re both still damp from the shower, I know Taylor’s body is reacting out of sheer desire, not the cold. Her breathing comes in heavy pulls, and her firm, full breasts rise each time, brushing against me, tempting me.

I suck on her nipples as though they’re my favorite meal. The tip of my cock only just presses into her entrance—enough to nudge the folds apart, making her open up in a nearly obscene way, because I’m large and thick compared to her delicate figure.

I massage her clit with my thumb, and when she starts moving underneath me, I have to fight hard to keep my composure. It doesn’t matter that lust has taken over my body; this first time will be all about her. Her pleasure is my priority.

I push just a bit inside her, not much, and she lifts her hips in impatience, her body begging for what I can give.

A need unlike anything I’ve ever known tightens every muscle in me at the brutal force of my own restraint. If I let go of the wild feeling raging inside, I’d drive into her in a single rough thrust until my balls slapped against her backside.

I kiss her mouth, starving, greedy, demanding. The contact is shameless—my tongue ravishing her, forcing her to yield. One hand caresses her nipple while the other lifts her by the butt, drawing her right where I need her.

My lips move from her mouth to her neck, then chin, finally down to her stiff nipples. She sighs, trembling as she feels my mouth on her body.

Her pussy is hot and soaked, and I relish that warmth, even through the condom.

I want to close my eyes and savor the sweetness of entering her for the first time, but I keep them open because I need to remember this moment. I move lightly, letting the head of my length push into her tight channel. She tenses, uneasy—maybe both craving more and feeling a bit wary. The size difference between us is significant, and I don’t want to hurt her.

I pull out and slip back in, giving her time to get used to me, and when the tip of my full head settles between those slick lips, we both moan. It’s a slow kind of sex, and I’m surprised by my self-control, given how visceral my desire is.

I grab her thighs, lifting and drawing them around my waist. I try a firmer thrust; she goes rigid but doesn’t ask me to stop. I push deeper and deeper, and when she rolls her hips—maybe by instinct—I have to clamp down on a growl because that tight heat grips me, stroking my cock in a delicious torment.

We stare at each other in silence, and I see something in her face that, for the first time I can recall, makes me want more than just sex from a partner. I push that out-of-place, nonsensical thought away. Rather than analyze whatever it is that keeps me hypnotized, I reduce us to what I can handle: physical attraction.

“I’m going to make you mine.” I give away as little as possible.

It reveals plenty yet hides a promise. That says a lot, without letting me turn hypocrite or vow more than I can.

Taylor remains silent, simply accepting me, and something inside me screams, Hold on to her somehow. Don’t let her leave tomorrow—or anytime soon .

Once again, I silence that voice. I’ve never needed anyone or anything. No matter how amazing the sex might be, it’s just that: sex.

So instead of questioning why my body answers hers so fiercely and passionately, I focus on the physical. Without waiting for a reply to my claim of possession, I push all the way in, taking her completely.

She whimpers in surprise, clamping down on me even tighter. I grit my teeth because those pulsing contractions are driving me insane, the tightness of that small, snug core almost making me come.

I lower my face to kiss her. Then I withdraw slowly and start a steady rhythm, caressing her nipple with my thumb. She doesn’t merely take it—she joins in this sweet dance with me.

I thrust steadily, feeling her body stretch around my length, and she arches upward to meet me, refusing to be a bystander to our lovemaking—she’s taking pleasure, too.

“Work those hips. Let me in deeper. I want to go all the way. I’m not pulling out.”

Never.

Never? I must be losing my mind.

When I drive into her harder and faster, her lips part in surprise—but she’s delicious, and soon she’s right there with me, wanting every sensation she’s entitled to. I keep up the intensity, pounding into her even more firmly. Before long, she’s pleading for more.

I hammer away, and her core welcomes me, gripping and squeezing, as if it wants to hold me captive. Being inside her feels like I’m starting my life of lust and pleasure from scratch, rewriting the act of sex, finding my perfect place in the world.

Our bodies collide without pause: sweat and moans merging into one frenzied, erotic rhythm. She claws at me, out of control, calling my name and begging for more. I let my desire surface fully. I pound deep into that tight, hot center.

I slide my hand between us, seeking her clit. I need mere seconds to make her scream like a wild cat, coming shamelessly and seizing my cock in rhythmic spasms. I don’t let her recover. I sit up, dragging her with me, still riding me.

With both hands gripping her firm backside, I lower her onto my shaft, impaling her deeply on my length. In this position, she’s helpless against my desire—like a doll in my arms, giving herself to me, head thrown back, moaning my name.

Her desperate little noises are both torture and music, pulling me to the brink yet somehow anchoring me to her, in this invisible web I actually want to remain in. She leans in and kisses me, but it’s not gentle—it’s pure need. Her tongue traces my lips in a sultry, brazen move, and I swear I’ll have them wrapped around my cock before dawn.

I suck on her tongue, and she sighs, rotating her hips in circles, urging me to keep going. I’m so worked up I could come at any moment, but I don’t want to leave her yet.

I push her fully into my lap and refuse to let her rise, buried inside her. I grab her hair, tilting her head back. Right then, Taylor opens her eyes, and before I even orgasm, I know I want more.

“You’re unbelievably tight,” I murmur against her neck.

The pleasure of being inside her engulfs me like huge waves, and I give up trying to rationalize. I let myself drown in her, losing myself in her body.

I rise back onto my knees, and when I pull out slowly, Taylor moans.

I flip her over so she’s on hands and knees. She doesn’t protest. Instead, she glances back over her shoulder, and I don’t think I’ll ever forget the sight.

She keeps her eyes on me even as I start thrusting again, hands gripping her backside. She gasps when I bottom out inside her, and when I twist my hand in her mass of red hair to hold her in place, she goes wild, bucking her hips.

I watch the spot where our bodies join, one hand clamped on her waist. I quicken my pace, pounding into her. Pleasure builds uncontrollably, and I slide my hand from her waist to her folds, rubbing her clit.

Taylor moans, pushing back onto me, giving herself up to this frantic demand. I don’t stop stroking, feeling my balls slap her with every thrust.

I can sense my climax barreling down, wanting to rip off the condom and fill her with my release—imagining her sex lips dripping with my cum, which is totally insane.

Nothing prepared me for the pleasure of taking Taylor. This is nothing like the sexual experiences I’ve had before, and right now, all I know is I want more.

I plunge deep, stopping only when there’s no more space for me inside her. She squeezes around me, and I grit my teeth, realizing I’m at my limit.

I pound into her faster, her body letting me have her any way I want, giving me exactly what I need. In this moment, every piece of me belongs to her, to us—she’s inside me just as much as I’m inside her.

I make her come once more, and when that tight, molten grip seizes me in another orgasm, I’m gone, too. I push a few more times before letting the lust take over. When I finally give in, I come so intensely that I’m afraid the condom won’t contain it all.

I pull out of her gently, helping her up so she’s kneeling backward against me. I kiss her neck and hair, and she just lets me hold her, leaning on my shoulder.

“I’ll run you a bath and then fix something for us to eat.”

She nods but says nothing.

“Taylor.”

Only then do I notice her eyes are closed.

What did I do?

I abandon my plans for now and lie down, pulling her with me. It’s new territory—I’ve never handled the aftermath like this. All my previous partners were experienced women.

“Did I hurt you?”

She doesn’t open her eyes. “No. I just...I’m not ready to come back to reality yet.”

“Hang on a second.”

I head into the bathroom and take care of the condom. After washing up, I think about bringing her a damp towel, but I suspect that’s not what she wants or needs right now. What she might need is for me to walk a road I’ve never been on—comfort and affection.

I return to the bed and see her lying on her side. She looks like a painting: pale skin against my black sheets, red hair tumbling down her back. I fit myself against her from behind, holding her.

“Doesn’t this go against your no-strings policy, us lying together like this?” she asks.

“I don’t have that many rules.”

“But you have some.”

“Not about what just happened with us.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’ve never been with anyone this young.”

She turns in my arms. “You didn’t . . .you...?” I can see the uncertainty on her face.

“Yes, I came really hard,” I say, relishing how her cheeks turn pink. “I want you to stay all weekend.”

“I need to go home.”

“Why?”

She doesn’t answer.

I hold her chin, making her look at me. “Look me in the eye.” I wait until she does. “Why do you need to go home?”

“I don’t, really. I just don’t like staying out.”

“That’s not it.”

“What do you think it is, then?” she asks, though we both know the answer.

“You’re scared.”

“I’m not afraid of anything.”

“You’re afraid of how I make you feel,” I say, because she might try hard to hide it, but I can read her completely.

“No,” she says, getting up and heading to the shower. When she reaches the door, she glances back. “I’m not afraid of anything.”

* * *

Taylor

I’m still shaking as I turn on the shower for the second time today in his suite. I let the water pour over my head, fighting the urge to grab my clothes and run.

I knew that the moment he touched me, I’d be lost, but I had no idea making love with William would leave me in the kind of panic I’m feeling right now.

At twenty-three, I’m suddenly sure not only that I’m in love but that I’ve found the man I want to be with forever. And he’s as distant from my world as a trip to the moon.

I fill my hand with shampoo and, eyes closed, start washing my hair—focusing on this small chore to control the rush of emotions that fills every cell of my body.

I sense him approaching, but I don’t open my eyes, not even when his hands replace mine, massaging my scalp. I don’t know how long he spends washing me, but even once I’m rinsed clean, he keeps holding me under the water, now facing him.

“Stay,” he says again, softly, right by my ear.

“We’ll just make things complicated.”

“I’m not afraid of complications.”

I open my eyes and stare at him. “You hate complications. You made that clear from the start.”

“Stay.”

“You want me to stay because you need control.”

“I’ve never denied that.”

“You want to have the power to decide when you’ve had your fill of me,” I say, carefully keeping any emotion out of my voice, “but I’ll never let you be the only one to decide when we’re done. I might not have relationship experience, but I’m observant, William. I’ll walk away at the first sign you can’t keep giving me what I want.”

“What do you want?”

“To keep feeling the way I do right now.” I take his hand and place it over my heart. “Feel how fast it’s racing? You did that. The moment I can be by your side and not feel this, I’ll know we’ve reached the end.”