Page 39 of Ceremony of Lust

His eyes pinch shut as he groans loudly. “Holy fuck,” he growls. “Your pussy is so tight. So fucking tight.”

No man has ever spoken to me like that. No one has ever used language like that around me, and it’s almost embarrassing to hear him talk about me so crudely. But I’m fascinated by his reaction to me, to how he’s feeling, and to how the sound of the words makes me feel as they fall from his tongue. He lets go of my leg and places his hands on either side of me before propping himself up.

Tentatively, my hands reach up and settle on his chest. He looks down at them and then finally shifts his gaze to mine.

“Yael,” he whispers, his eyes focused on me. He whispers my name over and over as he struggles to restrain himself. His face is red, and his breath is ragged.

I’m fighting, too. Having his impressive length inside me is painful and uncomfortable as he stretches me and my body adjusts to accommodate him. But there are moments of pleasure. Like when he touches me and kisses me as he moves his body against mine.

His arms wrap around me as he holds me tight against him. His pace increases as he thrusts in and out. His sweat-slick body glides against mine, and his heavy breathing is all I can hear until he cries out, and I feel him pulse inside me.

“Shit,” he hisses.

Beneath him, I feel so confused. He seems to be experiencing the same euphoria I did only moments ago. This time there were no fireworks, only a sizzle deep inside my belly that quickly died.

He pushes deeply into me again and again until he pulls all the way out and rolls to the side.

This is the only time I’m sure of my role. I pull my knees up to my chest and hold them there.

“What are you doing?” he asks in a soft, ragged voice.

“Dr. Hartman told me to do this after we have sex,” I inform him. “If I want to get pregnant, this is what I have to do.”

He places his hand on one leg and presses it down. “Come here,” he purrs.

I scoot toward him as his hand curls around my waist.

“Don’t worry about Dr. Hartman, or getting pregnant, or anything else.” His fingers brush softly along my waist, and he dips his head to nuzzle my neck. “Worry about this,” he says, pressing his finger against my chest over my heart. “And what it wants.”

22

Zev

Yael’s innocenceis on full display the first time we have sex. I’m certain her ears have never heard the filthy words lovers often use to express themselves, and she foolishly believes the advice of a woman who merely calls herself a doctor.

“Come on, let me take care of you,” I tell her as I sit up.

Light streams in through the windows, and I’m reminded it’s the middle of the day. The devil inside me tells me there’s plenty of time to take her again and again, but one look at how she winces as she walks toward the bathroom, and I know I cannot be a cruel lover.

“A hot bath will help.” I turn on the water and let it fill the egg-shaped tub.

She seems a little lost as I take charge of her care. Her eyes are wide, and she keeps touching different parts of her body. Her teeth sink down onto her bottom lip as she leans against the counter.

“Yael, what’s wrong?” I ask as I hand her some ibuprofen and a glass of water.

“Nothing,” she answers automatically.

I place a finger under her chin and tip it up. “Don’t lie to me, Yael. What’s wrong?”

“I feel . . .” she starts to say but then stops to look away. “I feel like I want more.”

“More?”

“I feel unsatisfied,” she says so softly I barely hear her.

I can’t help but laugh. She starts to storm away, but I catch her around the waist. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Don’t laugh at me, Zev!”