Corrupting Chastity - Krista Wolf Page 0,18

and the arousal grew. The snow fell, the candles burned. Our bodies eventually uncoiled, refilling with a familiar sexual tension.

“Alexa!” Senan called loudly, rolling me onto my belly. I was already laughing before he even finished.

“Play Closer by Nine Inch Nails.”

Fourteen

CHASTITY

He stayed late into the night, holding me. Cuddling me. Sleeping beside me, with his giant arms wrapped securely around my naked body. I woke once near morning, to watch the rising and falling of his chest. To trace every outline of his tattoos with my sleepy gaze, and to stare at his beautiful, tranquil face.

We made love again once more, in the dead of night. It was slow and heated, short and sweet. It ended with Senan spending himself deep inside me, shortly after I’d clawed him through another toe-curling climax of my own. Then we fell asleep still wrapped around each other, physically and emotionally wiped out.

When I awoke to the sunlight he was gone.

The candles were still burning, the music still playing so softly I could barely hear it. But those things were there. Remnants of last night. Fading memories of our ultimate evening, which had turned out so perfect I could barely contain myself.

God…

I lay there for a while beneath the blankets, burning the memories into my brain. I could still feel his body against mine. Still smell the musky, manly scent of him, or perhaps that part actually did linger on my sex-soaked bedding.

I stretched, feeling the oxygen surge through my tired arms and legs. My thighs still hurt, maybe from a recent workout, maybe from something else. But the feeling of completion was still there. The sense of fullness I’d felt in my belly was as real as the distant soreness between my thighs, which I welcomed and embraced along with the memories I was tucking away forever.

After a good fifteen or twenty minutes of staring at the ceiling I rolled out of the makeshift bed and showered, then went about getting ready for my day. By the time I pulled my phone off the charger, there was already an alert on the screen.

It was from my Venmo account. Apparently, Senan had returned my payment again. Minus ten dollars, of course.

What the—

I punched the messenger icon and fired off a text:

You know you’re really bad at this

whole getting paid for sex thing.

Almost immediately he wrote back, the little ellipsis flashing as he typed:

Sorry, can’t take anything for last night.

It was too much fun.

I felt my heart swell with gratitude. By taking away the transaction aspect of what we’d done last night, he’d just made my perfect moment even more perfect.

He knows that, too.

It was an interesting idea. On meeting him at the bookstore I’d pegged Senan as all business. But now there was a different side to him. A softer, sweeter side — echoes of our evening together.

What’s the ten dollars for this time?

I’m curious.

Without missing a beat he typed back:

Gas, probably. Or maybe the trauma

of being subjected to your

devirginization playlist.

I laughed so hard I almost dropped the phone.

Devirginization, huh?

My spellcheck tells me that’s

not even a word.

A moment passed. Then:

Yeah, well your spellcheck never

devirginized anyone before.

I have.

The smile on my face was so wide it almost hurt. Apparently this guy had the gift of being funny and sarcastic and sweet, all at once.

A little more seriously, I typed some more:

Honestly I should be paying you double.

You were amazing.

This time a full minute went by, and I started wondering if I’d gone too far. That maybe I was pushing too much, too soon. Then:

Amazing doesn’t begin to describe it. But

I broke my biggest rule: I stayed over.

Actually I broke lots of rules last night.

I didn’t know whether the message was good or bad. Whether he was angry or bitter or—

But can I tell you something? Honestly?

Somewhere in my chest, the beating of my heart picked up a little.

Of course!

The next message that appeared on screen made me melt.

I loved breaking my rules with you.

I sat there for several long moments, tingling all over. It was the single most incredible thing anyone had ever written to me. And it had come from a morning-after text message, sent by an escort I’d hired to take my virginity.

Is he really an escort though, Delaina? The little voice in my head asked. If you didn’t pay him?

Of course he was. That’s how I’d found him, of course. Hell, he didn’t even know my name.

Still…

I sent back a simple heart-emoji, then tucked my phone away. It was sweet and non-committal.