Page 92 of Ly to Me

He started slowly, but didn’t stop as he pushed past all the ways my body tensed, making me scream out in pain. My fingernails clawed into the wood, trying to direct the pain elsewhere, but it was useless.

“Fucking hell.” He gripped my hips as he pulled out, then thrust back in without mercy.

His jeans slipped lower, brushing against my skin with each thrust like my senses. The pain barreled through in waves, yet the softness of his hands on my waist and the way he wasn’t causing me pain anywhere else eased the tension in my body.

“Relax a little more for me. Breathe. Please.” His tone soothed me, though his hips kept bucking in and out, hard and slow. I did as he said, taking in a deep breath, fighting through the pressure. “Fuck,that’s perfect, baby. Just like that.” He stopped in the middle of pulling back out and thrust his fingers inside my pussy, forcing a guttural moan from my lips. The second he removed his fingers again and reached beneath me, I tried angling and shifting my hips, hoping he was going where I thought he was.

“Ohmyfuckinggod, Car.”

“Your body is singin’ for me, sweetheart.” He rubbed tight circles around my clit, allowing the pain to subside faster than I believed possible, bringing my body a level of pleasure I also never thought possible.

“Please, don’t stop,” I begged, and to my surprise, he listened. He used my arousal to circle my sensitive bud, getting me so close to release, it was maddening.

Carver groaned as he thrust forward again, his cock hardening so much, the barbells were becoming more evident. That could only mean—

His fingers dug into my hips as his thrusts grew manic, skin slapping against skin creating obscenely sexy echoes as he came, filling me like he said he would.

A wave of disappointment hit me as Carver slowly pulled out, leaving me a wanting mess.

“That was one, Mrs. Roland.” He spread my cheeks and chuckled. “And I’m already hard again watching my cum drip out of you. How many can you take before you give me what I want?”

TEN YEARS AGO

It was prom night.

The night when Carver was supposed to pick me up and take me straight to the dance.

Instead, I found myself standing next to him on his front porch, waiting for his mom to find the camera while trying my hardest not to twist a hole into my dress.

“Relax, sweetheart,” Car whispered as he snaked his arm around my back, making a familiar warmth spread along my side.

I released the light blue, satin fabric and quickly smoothed it down. He’d bought it for me, and here I was, destroyin’ it. “Shit, I didn’t mean to ruin it.”

“It’s not ruined. Here, let me.” His knee hit the floorboards, not seeming to care about dirtying the black tux he was wearing that had been perfectly tailored to his build. I stared down at him in pure fascination as he smoothed his palm over the slightly wrinkled dress.

“Now there’s a picture!” His mom damn near squealed as a camera flashed. I was pretty sure that photo would look as goodas that sayin’ about a deer caught in headlights. Maybe if I was a deer, I could run off the porch and hide away before she’d see how red my face had turned.

“Mom,” Carver groaned and hung his head. His shoulders shook with laughter that pulled my attention back to him. As he stood, he kept his hand on my waist, then bent down to whisper in my ear, “Figures our first picture together is me on my knees for you.”

Screw being a deer. I wanted to turn into the smallest thing possible and fly away, because I was certain a slight moan slipped from my lips at his words. It had been only a few days since we lost our virginities to each other, but since that night, we hadn’t really stopped. Thank-fucking-everything Chet was out on some bender somewhere, and Carver’s parents were either very lenient or completely oblivious to their son’s newest obsession. It was a miracle we stayed away from each other long enough to get into these fancy clothes.

Carver kissed my cheek, and his mom squealed and flashed the camera…again. I had a feeling that was her normal response to things—over the top and eccentric—and something about that made me more comfortable in her presence.

“You need to tell them when you’re takin’ a photo, dear. You’re scarin’ the poor thing,” his dad said as he walked out onto the porch.

I instinctively tensed, which Carver immediately reacted to by pulling me closer to his side, practically gluing me there.

“There’s nothin’ to be afraid of here. They’re good people,” Carver whispered against my hair, and as if on cue, his mom flashed the camera.

His dad swiped a hand down his face. “Okay. Okay. How ’bout we say ‘cheese’ and end the pictures for now, Nora?”

She snapped a few more in obvious retaliation, then blew a raspberry at her husband. I couldn’t help but laugh, and shereadily snapped a few more. “Beautiful! This is perfect. Have you ever seen a more perfect couple on their prom night?”

“No, Nora, I have not. Because, as I remember it, I didn’t get to take you to prom. And that title definitely wouldn’t have gone to you and—”

“George Calloway,” they both said in unison, his dad sneering at the name while Nora practically purred it. He glared down at her, his chin angled to his chest because of their stark height difference that almost mirrored Carver’s and I’s.

“Why does your dad hate George Calloway?” I hissed over my shoulder.