With his mouth fused to mine, we come together in one hard, meaty thrust that tears something inside me.
I cry out, and he freezes, eyes widening.
With only two wall light sconces turned down low behind him, I still read his shock crystal clear. The dim lighting is working in my favor. My cheeks are on fire.
“You’re a virgin,” he whispers, stunned.
“I probably should have told you that first, huh?” I say with a sheepish smile, attempting to lighten the mood a bit.
“Probably should have…” His voice trails off, and he stares down at me.
Judging by the look on his face, now is not the right time to joke about my lack of sexual experience.
He curses so loudly that my panicked gaze darts over his shoulder to the door, terrified that one of my teachers is going to fling it open to investigate. I push against his chest as I unwind my legs to get down from where he has me pinned against the wall between two bookcases, only to wince at the burn between my thighs.
“Fuck.” The breath hisses from his throat, and his hands clamp around my hips, stopping me. “Don’t move.” There’s apleading note in his voice I struggle to understand as he stares at me. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me you were a virgin?”
For some reason, Torin's anger really hurts. Tears sting my eyes, and my throat tightens as I push insistently against his chest while blinking rapidly. “Let me down.”
“I hurt you. Shit.” He curses again. But when he gently cups my face and softly kisses the tear sliding down my cheek, I realize it isn’tmehe’s angry at.
It’s him.
“You’re not mad at me?”
His burst of laughter is brief and probably a little too loud—so loud that I almost remind him we need to be quiet. “Why would I be mad at you? I just…” He looks away, rubbing a hand over his face. “I can’t believe I made this your first time. There’s a place in hell for guys who do this kind of thing.”
My body is slowly adjusting to having him deep inside. The burn inside me is fading, and I no longer feel stretched so tight around him. A new sensation is taking hold, and that feeling is growing stronger with each passing moment.
I’m so deliciously full. And that fullness is starting to feel good. Really good.
I swallow my moan and still my body when my hips want to rock. Suddenly, I want to know exactly how it would feel to have Torin move inside me. “What would you have done if you’d known it was my first time?”
He’s not the only one to blame for this. This is on me.
His cock twitches inside me, and I choke back a moan. I wiggle, my body moving independently of my mind. Torin cursed and told me not to with an almost desperate note in his voice. I thought I’d been doing something wrong, maybe hurting him as much as that first thrust had hurt me.
But when a groan rumbles from his chest and I feel him throb inside me, I realize I might not have been making him feel badwhen I moved. I was making him feel good. Maybe as good as he’s starting to make me feel.
“Treated my scent match with the care she deserved, not fucked her against a wall in the middle of a party. I’d have gotten you ready for me first. This isn’t how we should have done this.” His voice is soft, and the kiss he brushes across my lips is full of apology. “How many firsts did I steal?”
My hands creep over his shoulders as the need to reassure him nearly overtakes this burning need to rock against him. “You didn’t steal, Torin.”
He’s wedged so deep, I feel every thick inch. Each vein. Each hard ridge. I need him to move and find every secret place inside me. “I’m yours. Yours to kiss. To bite.” I kiss the hollow of his throat, and his groan makes my nipples pebble as his cock swells inside me. “To knot.” My next kiss finds his mouth. It’s soft. Unsure, but genuine.
He cradles my nape, and the sound that escapes him isn’t quite a groan or a gasp, but a combination of the two. “You’re so fucking sweet; you’re going to kill me.”
An urgent ache isn’t just growing between my thighs; it spreads like wildfire through my veins. My skin burns, and I need to be naked, on a bed with Torin pinning me down and fucking me. I wiggle, trying to force him to move.
“I need…” I’m panting so hard I can barely speak.
He claims my lips in a bruising kiss. “What do you need, beautiful?”
“Everything,” I whisper. “Everything but the cold and passionless society matings this school prepares us for.”
“It’s yours.” He punctures each word with a thrust that silences the ache inside me.
My body was made for this.
