relished the aftershocks.
He shifted slightly, his erection pressing insistently against her bottom, and she pushed back and wiggled a little, letting him know she wanted to keep going. He didn’t need any other encouragement from her. With a rough shove that made her heart race and her belly flip-flop, he pushed her against the table again. One of his hands returned to her upper back, pinning her down, and she realized he meant to take her like this. From behind. Without letting her see his face or kiss him.
Before she could tell him to wait, he was shoving her legs apart. The illicit thrill of the way he manhandled her momentarily overcame her hesitation. His fingers traced the seam of her pussy, and she groaned with need as they probed into the one place no one but she had ever touched. He pumped in and out, seeming to assure himself she was wet and ready, and then suddenly, he was thrusting inside her, sliding so deep that her toes came off the floor.
The shocking intrusion stole her breath. She had expected some discomfort her first time, but this was a little more than discomfort. This was pain, and not the kind of delicious pain that made sex interesting and her orgasms more incredible. This was the kind of pain that made her slap the table and shake her head.
Not that she had needed to do either. Terror seemed to have sensed something was very wrong the moment he was deep inside her. She could only imagine how she must have felt different, not quite ready for the sort of rough love he seemed to like. He pulled free of her body as she pressed on the table and pushed herself into a standing position. A little woozy, she swayed on her feet as she turned to face him and leaned back against the table for support.
Her heart skipped a beat when she saw his face. His dark expression was a mix of anger and disgust. His gaze dropped down to his thick, long cock, now slick with her wetness and tinged just slightly pink. From my blood.
“You’re a virgin.”
She didn’t have to hear to know it was said in an accusatory tone. “Yes.”
He rubbed his hand down his face before pointing at her. “You should have told me!”
“When?” she asked and then rolled her eyes when it was clear he hadn’t remembered what the sign meant. Frustrated by the lack of easy communication, she strode to the couch, ignoring the twinge of pain between her legs, and grabbed her tablet. “When?”
“Before I fucked you obviously!” he shot back furiously.
She reeled back in shock and then gritted her teeth as she typed. “Don’t shout at me like that! Just because I’m deaf doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings!”
He had the decency to look chagrined. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t have yelled.”
Hating that he was ruining the moment they had shared, she smacked at the touchscreen. “Why does it matter if I’m a virgin?”
“It matters because you deserved more than being fucked face-down on an old table in a cold, dirty waste ship, Maisie.”
She wanted to tell him that was ridiculous but decided against it. Instead, she said, “I came onto you, remember? I don’t care about the ship or the table. I care about you.” She pointed at him for emphasis. “You are all that matters. Being with you makes me happy.” She gestured to the table. “That made me happy. It felt good.”
Ignoring everything she had said, he asked, “Did it feel good when I ripped into you and caused you pain?”
“No,” she admitted, “but I know it wasn’t done on purpose or because you wanted to really harm me. It was just miscommunication.”
“A hell of a miscommunication,” he grumbled. Shaking his head, he added, “I should have asked you about your experience. I should have been more careful with you.” Regretfully, he said, “You made the first move, and you seemed so confident and excited. I thought...fuck. I made a mistake and shouldn’t have assumed you were more experienced.”
“It’s okay, Terror.”
“It’s not.” He slashed his hand through the air. “It’s not okay, and it’s just another reminder of why I have no business even touching you like that.”
She frowned. “What does that mean?”
He picked up her coveralls and held them out to her. “It means you need to get dressed.”
Her heart sank. “What?”
“Get dressed, Maisie.”
“But we aren’t finished!”
Terror’s entire demeanor had shifted, and he was suddenly cold and