her legs, and he settled between them. Again, her fingers did that paintbrush sweep up and down his torso, making all his muscles pop and dance. Fuck.
Propped on his elbow, he scooped up one slender leg and hooked it around his hip before he grabbed his meat and pressed it against that sweet, pink pussy.
Fucking hell, she was tight. Her body clenched him like a fist, so much it was nearly too much, and he groaned as he pushed in, trying to go slow, needing to go slow, and also needing to go hard, to feel this everywhere all at once.
But under the rough rasp of his groan, he heard a little moan that wasn’t quite so musical as those she’d made before, when he was driving her wild.
He stopped and focused on her face. “This okay?” He sounded like somebody was choking him. Somebody kind of was.
She nodded—a bit too frantic to be wholly believable. Was he too big for her? He wasn’t ashamed to walk naked around the locker room, but he wasn’t packing so much heat it could hurt a girl, either. He’d thought. But she was definitely a snug fit.
“Lia, if you need to stop …”
“No! I don’t want to stop!” She grabbed his hips and surged abruptly up, impaling herself on his cock.
He saw the grimace of discomfort as it cramped across her face; it was hard to miss. But she’d also just taken almost every inch of him into her heat, and he’d been roasting with want for what felt like hours. Holding himself back, focusing on her, denying his own need.
Now he was surrounded by her tight, slick, molten body, and he couldn’t help himself. That familiar heavy weight filled his gut, sent out flaming whiplashes through his blood, and he had to get off. He couldn’t stop. It rose up so fast, so demanding, so out of his control, that his body was moving before his mind had willed it. It didn’t take long, and was so intense he couldn’t spare a thought, not even for Lia. He thrust in her wildly until he came, losing himself in a full-body clench and cramp of pleasure so hot it hurt.
When he could see again, Lia was watching him with wide, shocked eyes.
And motherfucker, a wet track slid from the outside corner of each eye. Tear tracks. He’d made her cry.
What an absolute bastard he was.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he said, and didn’t realize until the words were out that he’d echoed her words after she’d come.
But she’d had no reason to apologize. He really did. He’d hurt her. Dammit.
“Don’t be sorry,” she said. “Please don’t be sorry.”
“I hurt you. Of course I’m sorry. I told you I’d stop and then I didn’t—”
“I didn’t want you to stop.”
Alex tried his best, he eased out as slowly as he could, and she obviously tried not to show pain, but a little grunt left her as he pulled free.
Disgusted with himself, he reached for the condom at once—and then froze solid.
There was blood.
Not a lot, but noticeable. A few streaks of red through the mingle of lube and girl.
Blood.
He’d really hurt her. He’d fucking bled her.
Or …
Oh fuck.
He hadn’t felt anything in his way, nothing slowing him down … except that remarkable tightness.
Oh no. No fucking way. No! She was going to be twenty in a couple weeks! Absolutely no fucking way!
It took a muscular force of will, but he tore his eyes from the bloody—bloody, it was bloody—condom over his cock and looked Lia dead on.
He could see it in her eyes.
He had just deflowered Don Pagano’s daughter.
“Lia …” Her name gusted out of him on a stunned breath.
“Please don’t be mad.”
Alex didn’t know what he was. He was everything. Mad, yes. Disgusted with himself. Stunned. Terrified. And so wrapped up in her he could hardly look at her for the sad vulnerability in her eyes.
He had to get this fucking condom off. That was his first thought with any momentum, so he snatched hold of it. Sliding stiffly from the bed, he shambled to her bathroom.
He tossed the condom and cleaned himself up. The mirror above the sink, he ignored, unwilling to face himself just now. After he dried his hands, he went to the door but found he couldn’t make himself turn the knob. So he stood there, in her bathroom, naked, facing the closed door, like an android that had run out of juice.
If he thought any thoughts, he never would remember