Page 57 of Pretty Reckless (All Saints High 1)

When I remain silent, his lips crash on mine. I’m still buzzing from the orgasm he gave me when he fingered me. He doesn’t know that I’m a virgin. Not yet. But he is about to.

I pull away from him, breaking the kiss. “Tell me you don’t want all my firsts,” I challenge.

His jade eyes search mine for clues. I move my groin to meet his erection, and he squeezes his eyes shut.

“Tell me you don’t want to take my virginity,” I rasp.

His eyes snap open. I know that despite his initial shock, he believes me. So many guys didn’t believe me when I told them I was a virgin, so I stopped telling people. There was no point in trying to convince my friends. They didn’t want to listen.

I press my hips to his again, and we meet like a perfect puzzle.

His cheeks are so pink, his face is so beautiful, and I am so beyond screwed.

“Tell me that you don’t,” I whisper.

“But I do.” His forehead crumples in anguish. “There’s nothing I want more than every single thing you have to give.”

Closing my eyes, I inhale as he reaches into his back pocket for a condom. It’s not romantic. Or intimate. Or perfect. But it’s us. Two dirty kids in a forest where no one can see or find us. Penn retrieves the condom and kicks his pants to his ankles. As he rolls the condom on, he asks me if I’m sure.

I smirk. “Are you? You have more on the line.”

He stops, cupping my face in his hands. His eyes twinkle, but maybe I see what I want to see. I didn’t mean to save him all my firsts. But it happened, and a part of me is glad that it did. Because he was the first boy to give me a gift. The first boy to kiss me. To want to become my friend not because I was popular, but because I was me.

He was the first boy who noticed the injured animal behind the camouflage of hostility and tried to give it water and shelter.

“Fuck the line.”

The first thrust is like a sharp slice of a knife. My lungs squeeze the oxygen inside them. The discomfort subsides with the long, luxurious kisses that Penn rains on my mouth. On my cheeks, neck, and breasts. He stops every now and again, not wanting to come, to suck one of my nipples into his mouth and lick around it. He caresses my face and swipes stray locks of hair from my forehead. He is moving inside me as though he’s done it a thousand times before, but he is also careful and gentle. The leaves beneath me crunch with every thrust as he pushes into me, and they tickle my back.

He growls, and it stirs something inside me. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, squeezing hard, wanting more of him against me, inside me, with me. I wish I could lock us in a bubble and never let go. I wish we didn’t have to go back. That I didn’t have to hate him, and that it wasn’t so wrong to want this.

His thrusts become quicker and jerkier, and my eyes widen at that. I’m guessing he is going to come. I’ve never seen a guy come. Another first. The space between my thighs is sore, but the pain is lusciously sinful. I’m full of him and desire and want.

I only realize that I’m crying when he empties inside me. His jaw tightening, he is so beautiful, and I think that’s a part of why the tears stream down my face. As soon as he realizes that I’m crying, his eyes narrow, and he kisses the tears away. He doesn’t take a moment to recompose. He is still inside me when he licks them, one by one, chasing them.

“That bad, huh? I swear I leave more of an impression when they’re half-drunk.”

There’s laughter through my tears now, and I swat at his chest.

I want him to tell me everything. Why he calls me Skull Eyes. Why he has a hole in all his shirts. What Adriana is to him. And for the first time, I think I might have the chance to find out all those things. Because the way he looks at me? He doesn’t hate me. Not right now.

“Have you been with many girls?”

He pulls away from me, and it burns a little. We both look down, and there’s a little blood on the condom. He tugs the condom slowly. We both watch in fascination as he knots the open end and tosses it behind the tree trunk.

“Not many. Less than five, more than three. I was your first?”

“Yeah.”

“Say it. The entire sentence.”

“Huh?”

“Penn Scully, you were my first.”

“Penn Scully, you were my first.” I roll my eyes and laugh.