Another intentional, deep stroke of my fingers has her crying out, and that sound isabsolute heaven.
“Does that feel good?” I ask, breath ghosting against her ear.
“Y-yes,” she chokes out, her body quivering beneath my touch.
“Attagirl,” I murmur, lips grazing the damp curve of her neck. “Then come for me.”
I maintain a fast rhythm, my fingers circling her clit, my hips driving deep and hard. Her body arches beneath me, and she shakes uncontrollably, muscles tightening around me, gripping fiercely as though she wants to pull me in even deeper.
Then she comes, and I feel every second of it—her pulse, her cry, the way her body seizes and melts against me all at once. She’s soaking wet and gripping me so hard I swear she almost breaks my dick.
It’s more than I can handle. My spine arches, hips locking tight as heat coils and explodes low in my gut. My balls draw up hard, a rush of fire rips through my core, and I groan right into her ear as I spill myself inside her.
The sound she makes in response nearly undoes me again. My fingers dig into her hips, anchoring us both as wave after wave crashes through me, stealing the air from my lungs.
My world constricts to only her. Her breath, her sounds, the way she holds me perfectly inside her like I belong there, and I’m meant to be hers. My vision whites out for a beat, muscles trembling, jaw slack as the last shudders wrack through my body.
And when it passes, when the air finally comes back, all I can do is hold her tighter, whisper her name like a prayer, and hope she knows that this wasn’t just release.
This was surrender.
I gently press my lips against her temple, lingering, once, twice, then a third time, savoring the small hitch in her breathing each kiss elicits.
She lets out a tiny, breathless laugh, and I’m not sure whether it heals something fractured within me or deepens the wound.
I turn her face to mine and kiss her deeply, not ready to leave her body, needing to hold onto this for just one second longer, but then the gondola top station emerges through the mist, looming out of the fog, and it’s a slap to the face.
A bird’s-eye view of everything I just forgot about.
“Shit,” I mutter, the word barely audible over the blood still pounding in my ears. I pull out too fast, everything about it awkward, cold, and wrong.
Alaina hikes her pants back up just as fast, just as clumsily, fingers fumbling with the waistband.
She winces with every motion, but I’m distracted fromit as I tuck myself back into my pants and feel the wetness on my hand.
I look down, and my body goes ice cold.
My hand is red.
Red with blood.
My eyes drift down, and fuck. It’s there, too, smeared across my dick. As if my body is moving in slow motion, I glance up at her.
She’s still flushed, lips parted from everything we just did, but her eyes are different now as they’re locked in on my hands, too wide, glassy.Afraid.
What the fuck?
My brain grasps for the easy explanation. “Are you still bleeding? Don’t worry, I don’t care if you’re on your period.”
She just stares at me, cheeks darkening, that damn flower peeking out between the fingers of her clenched fist, a couple of petals falling to the floor as she starts to tremble.
My stomach clenches, and a cold sweat breaks out on the back of my neck.
No.
“You’re…” My throat closes around the word. “You’re avirgin?”
Her silence says everything.
