Neither of us will admit it out loud, but there’s no need to. Our bodies are confessing everything shamefully.
“Let me in, Raven.” He groans, his breath hot against my neck. “You want me to beg, I’ll beg.”
He wanted to have sex yesterday, too. I only said no because I didn’t feel like this.
Hot and bothered. Frustrated. So turned on that I want to scare the wildlife away with a scream.
Fingers digging into his shoulders, I don’t even think about telling him no. I can’t. Not when I want this so badly that my body is begging me to let him in.
To finally letsomeonein. Not just sexually, but… in all the ways I’ve always denied myself.
“Okay.” Whispering the word, I nod. Tightening my hold on him, I close my eyes and decide that I can lower my walls just a little. Just this one time.
His entire body trembles at my permission. Like he thinks I’m going to change my mind, he doesn’t waste his time. After shoving a hand between us, I feel every inch his cock touches before he’s pressing his way in.
When he suddenly thrusts, I expect pleasure to come flooding out. Seeing how often everyone does it, how noisy they get, it has to feel good.
Yet, as he plants himself deep inside, I’m crying out, making a sound I don’t think I ever have. A yelp at best.
This fuckinghurts.
Jinx flinches, but it’s not because of the sound. No, the moment he pulls back to look at me, I can see it in his eyes. The horror.
He knows.
“No.” He stiffens up and looks at me in a way that dampens such delicious heat. “Fuck, I… I didn’t know. I thought—”
Ignoring the low throb that’s pulsing through me, I pull him back down and shove my face into the crook of his neck so he can’t see the pain on my face. Not from my cherry being popped, but because he cares enough that he did it.
That he’smortified.
“You thought guys are flocking to fuck me. Right.” Fighting between just letting him go and calling this moment ruined, and clinging to him so I can soak up one more moment of this shared moment, I end up tightening my legs, making him groan.
He’s still hard. My walls are still wrapped tightly around him. The only change is that the sharp pain has turned into a low throb.
“It’s just sex.” Murmuring the words, my nails bite into his back. Right where those other scratches are. “The hard parts are over, right? Show me what the big deal is.” When he doesn’t budge, I clench around him and roll my hips. “Please, Jinx.”
I feel the shiver that rocks through him before he pulls back. Right when I think he won’t continue, right when he’s barely inside, he thrusts back in and steals the air from my lungs.
“Relax.” Forcing the word out through gritted teeth, he sinks all the way back in. “You’re going to snap my cock in half at this rate.”
Despite acting like he’s the one that’s being stretched by something the size of my damn arm, he doesn’t stop.
The pain goes away, replaced with a pleasure that feels deeper than I’ve ever experienced. It’s more than I thought it would be, more than I could have made it on my own. I’m clinging to him, and he’s groaning, panting against my throat, his breath a hot, damp rhythm against my skin.
I run my fingers over his back without thinking, tracing the ridges of old scars and fresh scratches. I don’t know their stories. Will he tell me if I ask? Would I tell him mine? No, probably not.
Being honest with each other would make this more than what it needs to be.
I moan his name, and the sound does something to him. It’s like a trigger released. His thrusts deepen, slap harder, losing their hesitant rhythm for something hungry. The low throb between my legs ignites, sparks catching and spreading fire through my belly.
Instead of worrying about Crimson Road, about tomorrow, about anything at all, there’s only one thing in my mind. This. The feel of him. The ragged sound of us. The approaching release.
This is more than a distraction. This is something I already know I’m going to want again now that I’ve had a taste. As much as I hate to say it, Jinx has set the bar pretty high.
“Fuck, Raven,” he grunts, his voice strained, wrecked. His hands slide under me, gripping my hips, holding me higher so he can go deeper. “Just…fuck.”
There’s no more talking. No more thinking. There’s only the slick, driving heat of him, the way my body is learning his, tightening and releasing in a cadence I don’t control. Pleasure coils, tight and urgent, building from that deep, bruised place he’s carving inside me. It’s an ache that’s turning sweet, a pressure that’s beginning to splinter.
