deep in his throat every time my legs shook. “You’ll come before you let me inside you, so come,” he said when I straddled the edge between bliss and euphoria.
Spasms sharpened and blurred my vision, and my thighs clenched around his head while I struggled to breathe without moaning every time.
Then, he was leaning over me, his length breaching my slick opening before he dropped his forehead to mine, whispering, “This will probably hurt.” When I said nothing, he groaned. “Wrap your legs around me.”
I did, and his mouth stole mine, his tongue forcing itself inside at the same time his thickness annihilated the barrier of my virginity. A scream lodged in my throat. My entire body tensed, turning to granite as my teeth sank into Everett’s lip.
He didn’t stop until he was seated fully, his hips aligned with mine, his fingers holding my chin to keep my mouth on his when I tried to pull away. I knew it was to keep me from waking anyone up.
With his thumb stroking my cheek and his breathing ragged, he slowly removed his lips. “Are you regretting it now, Clover?” He was smiling, panting, as he shifted slightly. “Jesus Christ. This is…” Again, he groaned, and I felt my skin and nipples pebble. “I need to move.”
The pain was a burn that wouldn’t quit scorching, but I swallowed and gripped the back of his head. “So move.” I licked the blood I’d caused to pool on his bottom lip, and his hips reared back, then carefully eased forward.
Eyes locked on mine, he did it over and over until he could feel the tension dissipate in my touch, in my body, and in my kiss.
I wanted him like this—always like this—staring at me, making love to me. I closed my eyes before he could see the storm brewing in them and moaned when he kept sliding over parts inside me that made my stomach bubble and quiver.
“Gonna come,” he panted through gritted teeth, his pace gathering speed until we could hear the wet sound of his skin meeting mine in the dark.
He pressed a hard kiss to my lips and then rose to his knees, milking himself all over my stomach.
I didn’t care; I couldn’t take my eyes off his face. He wore an expression of pure, utter rapture I’d never seen before. He heaved and cursed, and then stared at the mess he’d made.
And I couldn’t stop myself. The idea of anyone else getting to see him the way I had just now… “Don’t leave,” I pleaded, knowing he’d listen but choose not to hear.
His throat bobbed as his gaze sank into mine, thick brows furrowing. With a loud exhale trailing him, he left the bed and grabbed some tissues from the dresser, then returned to clean my stomach and between my legs.
Making no comment about the blood I knew had to be there, he wiped, then kissed my mound again. “We should maybe flush these.”
Sorrow weighed every step as I got up and threw my nightgown on, then traipsed quietly to the bathroom. I took my time cleaning up, staring at my kiss swollen lips and tangled hair, half expecting Everett not to be there when I returned.
He was, standing in the glow of the moonlight by the window in nothing but his briefs.
I locked the door behind me, drifting close, my fingers lifting to the muscles lining his shoulders and arms, then dipping over the ridges and curved arch of his spine.
Reaching behind him for my hands, he pulled until they met over his abs. He entwined our fingers, and my cheek pressed into his sweat-misted back, his heart thudding a fast tempo. “You know staying would continue to kill me slowly.”
A rogue tear escaped, sliding down my cheek to land on his back. I quickly kissed it away before he could tell what it was. “I know.”
He sang me to sleep that night, all the while I did my best to keep my heart from bleeding out all over his naked chest.
It was happening.
The bus was loaded and leaving smoky plumes in the humid morning air.
Hendrix sat behind the wheel, unpacking snacks and setting them anywhere he could reach.
“First stop, Ala-fucking-bama,” came from behind us.
I turned from where I’d been studying Everett. He’d been rearranging the drum kit below the bus, checking the straps and sandwiching it in the middle of all their suitcases and duffel bags.
“Get fucked.” Graham laughed, racing over and slapping Dale on the back.