The Envy of Idols (Rich Boys of Burberry Prep #3) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,89

is happening. Closing my eyes, I exhale, and I wait as he touches me between the legs with more than just his hand.

Slowly, almost agonizingly so, Creed moves his hips forward and enters me. In a single moment, we go from virgins to … not virgins. At least, in one narrow world view of how virginity works. There are so many other ways, so many other opinions, but at least we have this, a single perfect moment of being joined together.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, his voice so much softer than usual.

“No,” I whisper back, and he lets go of my hand, so I can curl both my arms around his neck. He uses his elbows to keep himself partially propped up, but I can feel the weight of his body pressing me into the mattress, the smooth hard shapes of his muscles as he pulls out, and then slides back in. “It feels good.” My voice is husky, deep, almost foreign to my own ears.

“So it does,” Creed purrs, nuzzling my neck. He moves slowly at first, until we’re both slick with sweat, and then he moves faster, deeper, harder. There are no boundaries between us, and I feel like I’m coming apart in the best possible way.

We both make soft, easy sounds, grunts and moans that tangle together in the darkness.

A desperate ache builds in my lower belly, this throbbing motion that feels so good it almost hurts. When it breaks, I arch my back and press into Creed as he kisses my neck, and continues moving his hips, pushing me over the edge to the other side.

I’m shaking and panting as he finds his own climax, shuddering above me, muscles going taut as rocks before he relaxes suddenly and collapses on top of me.

We stay there like that for several minutes before Creed groans and rolls off, sliding off the bed to dispose of the condom before he joins me again.

I’m basically paralyzed, lying there on my back and staring up at the ceiling. In the distance, I can hear the faint cry of a police siren.

Creed lies down on his side, pillowing his head on his hands and watching me. He’s still breathing hard, and I shiver as he runs his tongue across his lower lip. Honestly … I could probably do the whole thing all over again. Maybe a hundred times more. A thousand.

“Are you going to tell the others?” he asks, and I glance his direction. “About the sex, I mean.”

“I …” That’s a very good question. Didn’t I just get on them all for lying by omission?

“I mean, I know you’re not going to pick me just yet.”

“Just yet,” I whisper, and he sits up, scooting closer to me and sweeping some hair off my sweaty forehead.

“No. I don’t expect you to pick me yet. Not until I’ve proven myself.” He leans down and kisses me on the mouth, hard, possessive. My toes quite literally curl into the sheets. “And I will, Marnye. Mark my words, I fucking will.”

The next morning, I wake up feeling a bit sore but wholly satisfied in a way I didn’t expect. I’m grinning like an idiot as I sit up and swipe my hands down my face, glancing over to find Creed naked and angelic in slumber, his lower half just barely covered with a sheet.

“Hey,” I whisper, pushing at his shoulder. He grumbles and one, beautiful blue eye opens. “We have to get up. I think we’re—”

The doorknob jiggles, and then as I gape in shock, the whole thing swings open.

“Shouldn’t leave your key lying around if—” Miranda starts, and then pauses. I’m sitting up, totally bare on top with her naked twin beside me. Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. “Oh my god,” Miranda chokes out, dropping the key card on the floor and slapping both hands over her mouth. “You didn’t. Tell me you didn’t.”

“Miranda,” Creed says, sitting up and making sure the sheet’s covering all of his, um, bits. “Wait.”

But my bestie’s already turning and making a run for it, the door to the suite slamming as she disappears. I’m beyond mortified, and I feel slightly sad, too. I know Miranda has a crush on me. I know she does. And I love her beyond words, but just … not in that way. I can’t choose my sexuality anymore than she can choose hers. If I could, she’d be my first pick in the whole world.

“Goddamn it,” Creed growls, standing up

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