I put my arms up, and she tears it off me, then her lips return to mine with hunger. She reaches for my belt buckle, and I want to give in, but I grasp her wrist and pull back so she's forced to look at me.
"What's wrong?" she frets, out of breath.
"Sugar, we're not doing this quickly. I'm going to take my time so I can watch."
"Watch?" she asks.
I nod. "Yes. I'm going to watch you break for me. And when you cling to me, begging, I'm going to ruin you some more. You're never going to want another man inside you. You were already mine, but there's no going back after this. And I'm going to remember every moan." I tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear, then continue, "Every cry. Every way you scream my name."
She inhales sharply with her eyes going wide.
I push her back on the bed and cage my body over hers. I slide my tongue into her mouth and slowly tease her while gliding my knuckles over the curve of her stomach.
She whimpers in my mouth. Her body quivers under me.
"That's right, sugar. You're mine," I murmur, then rise off her, sitting up.
I pat my thighs, ordering, "Get up here so I can unwrap my gift."
11
Willow – Age 18
The glow of the candles and string of Christmas lights make Wyatt's expression rawer. He never takes his eyes off me.
The low flutter in my belly turns into a full-blown storm brewing in my core. It pushes deeper with every breath I take. My heart knows what's coming, or at least what I think it'll be like with Wyatt, yet it doesn't eliminate my nerves.
We've waited for years. I turned eighteen a few months ago and I thought we would have done it by now. Whenever we're together, and I think it'll happen, he pulls away and says we'll wait. At first, his restraint brought me relief. Now, it's driving me insane.
So the only thing I could think to get him for Christmas that meant anything was to give him me and show him I'm ready. So here we are, and it's finally going to happen.
His low, commanding voice rolls over me like honey laced with smoke. It's a demand that oozes over my skin. "Don't be shy or keep me waiting, sugar. The decision has been made, and I'm ready to open my gift." The heated war behind his eyes makes my pulse stutter.
I rise, and he reaches for me, but then pauses.
"What's wrong?" I fret.
"You started the pill, right?" he asks.
"Yes. I did months ago. You know that."
Even with my assurance, he still looks nervous.
I blurt out, "You're making me anxious."
He slowly exhales, stroking my thigh. "I'm not prepared. I don't have a condom."
"Why do we need a condom? I'm on the pill," I remind him.
He stares at me.
My stomach flips. "Wyatt?"
"If I got you pregnant?—"
"You won't. I'm on the pill," I declare.
"Willow—"
