Page 30 of Soul Mates: Hercules Valentine and I

His shoulders tense up. “A lot.”

“You don’t want to talk about it?”

“No, I don’t. But I would like it if you stayed.”

I nervously bite my bottom lip. “For sex?”

He’s walking in my direction. Am I breathing? Can I move an inch as he now stands in front of me?

“Yes,” he breathes, and I can feel the lust oozing out of his pores.

I stare into his eyes, unable to speak. I can’t deny this urge that’s coursing through me. Hercules and I are connected in an inexplicable way. His face is moving toward mine. His lips collect my bottom lip, which was trapped between my teeth. It experiences the silky warmth and wetness of a tongue until I open my mouth and completely let him in.

The longer we kiss, the more desperate our breathing grows. My sex has never wept so fervently for a boy to be inside me. My need is primitive—it’s animalistic.

We’re dancing a sensual tango, and we’re each other’s perfect partner. My jacket hits the floor as his mouth leaves moist trails on both sides of my neck. Hercules lifts the hem of my shirt. My arms float upward, and our mouths only separate to allow the material to rise between us.

I whimper softly when I taste his probing tongue again. It’s as if that second time apart lasted far too long. Hercules’s strong hands lift me by my waist. My feet float off the marble, and I wrap my legs around his narrow torso. His fingers stroke, grip, and caress my buttocks, my waist, my back. They cup my face. I entwine my fingers in his hair. He’s carrying me somewhere as our kiss deepens. Then his mouth finds my neck. I sip temperate air as I pitch my head back to feel his lips, tongue, and teeth on my skin. He works all three so well. They’re like sections of a chorus, the altos, sopranos, and tenors singing in happy harmony.

We arrive in a room. It’s spacious, adultlike. He lays me on the bed, and my back is against a comfortable mattress. I kick one of my shoes off. Hercules pulls the other off and throws it to the ground. At no point do we lose eye contact. I want him. I don’t care that he doesn’t want me to be his girlfriend. But if he asked, I’d say yes.

Or maybe not. I can’t be his girlfriend. I’m a Grove, and the Valentines are our enemies. That truth is branded in my mind.

“You okay?” he asks, breathing heavily.

I just realize that my eyes have grown wide, and I stiffen, thinking about the line I’m crossing here. Max would be pissed if he knew where I was. My father would be even more upset about it.

But then I look at his chest. It’s as if he’s been chiseled out of marble by the hands of a master. I look at his face—perfect in every way. He’s out of his pants even though his underwear is on, his briefs containing a remarkable package.What if I tell him the truth?

“Um, Hercules…” I start.

“I have condoms,” he says. Perhaps he thinks that’s the reason for my hesitation.

Tell him who you are, Paisley.

“Okay,” I whisper.

He nods and hurries over to a drawer beside the bed and takes a condom out of a black box with the word SKYN on it.

“I’m sorry. I’m drunk.” He steps out of his briefs.

My eyes widen at the sheer size of his cock.Wow!Boyles was only half his size.Should I tell him I’m new to this?

“I’m new to sex.” The words just sort of gush out of my mouth.

Hercules pauses in the middle of rolling the condom up his humongous cock. “Are you a virgin?” He seems more sober when he asks that than he has been since he and Nero moseyed over to sit at our booth.

“No, but I’ve only been with one person and fairly recently.”

“Oh,” he says, sounding relieved. “I’ll take it easy if you want. That won’t be hard to do.” His eyes smolder when he looks at me. “You’re very sensual.” His smirk makes me cream. “I like that.”

My body tingles as his erection is aimed at me. Then Hercules Valentine reaches down, takes my bikini panties by the strings, and slides them down my legs. I’m wet enough to moisten the inside of my thighs. I’m sure I’ve oozed onto his bed.Embarrassing. But I can’t help it. I’m so turned on.

“Has anyone gone down on you before?” he asks.

Boyles tried. All I felt was his mouth giving me a tongue bath.

I prop myself up on my elbows. “Not really.”