She intertwines her fingers in mine, clasping them tightly enough my knuckles protest. Using me as an anchor as her breathing quickens, like she’s welcoming me into her pleasure.
I pull her upright against me, my hand moving to cup her chin rather than staying wrapped around her throat. She drags our clasped hands to press between her tits, clenching so tightly that my bones rub against each other.
The soft cry deep in her throat as she comes is perfection. Her muscles move around me, the orgasm taking hold in small pulses that take a while to build, then twice as long to fade away.
She turns her face, her large eyes staring straight into mine before I claim her mouth, not caring how I twist her neck to access her lips, just needing the touch, needing that softness, almost startled when her tongue reaches out to tease mine, coaxing me as my final thrusts carry me into my release, convulsing inside her as she pushes her arse back against me, urging me deeper and deeper until I’m spent and we collapse forward onto the bed.
For long minutes, I don’t move, breathing in the scent of her, of me, my arms holding her firmly, my forehead lost in the soft hairs on the back of her neck.
When I disentangle from her, my cum coats her thighs. I slip off the bed, then disappear into the ensuite to clean myself with a washcloth. Once finished, I rinse it out a few times, then walk back to the bed to find her crying. Something I wouldn’t have minded earlier but that I’m at a loss to explain now.
“Sorry,” she says, wiping her tears away with the back of her wrist. “I’m not upset. I promise.”
Taking her at her word, I gently push her back until she’s supine on the bed and wipe her clean. When Ifinish, she’s gained control of herself and after I toss the cloth into the sink, I return to lie behind her, enjoying her small frame within my arms.
For long moments, we stay like that. All the stress, anger, and anxiety of the day disappears into the past as my body relaxes, curling around hers like a wall of protection.
“I’ve never…” she starts, then dissolves into tears again.
I roll her onto her back, catching one with my thumb and tasting it, saltier than the tear she shed earlier, but that could equally be sweat from our exertions.
“You said you weren’t a virgin.”
“I’m n-not,” she stutters out, hitching in a new breath. “But I’ve never come before. Not with somebody.” The tears leak out again. “I thought I was defective but that w-was s-s-so g-good.”
She gives a funny little snort, then falls asleep.
I lie beside her, propped up on one elbow, staring with contentment at her peaceful face. Even when I stroke my forefinger along the side of her cheek, she doesn’t wake. Nor when I explore further, cupping one of her perfect, tiny tits in my hand.
I would have preferred to be her first, but, on consideration, being her best has its own appeal.
There’s shit I should go downstairs and sort out. My dad expects an apology. If I give it to him now, I won’t have his cold shoulder to bear for the next couple of months.
But I don’t want to move. Not from this strange girl who went from thinking I’m a monster to a saviour just because she’s never had serious D.
It’s weird to be the good guy.
I pull her closer, wondering how long I should wait before initiating round two. A nap first sounds like the ticket, then I’ll have to make a mental note to wake in an hour or so. I don’t want to waste the entire night.
CHAPTER SEVEN
GEORGE
My head isfuzzy when I wake. Nearly as fuzzy as the inside of my mouth where my tongue seems to be growing a fur coat for the coming winter.
Something holds me in place. A weighted blanket? But no. I had to leave that in Auckland. Not the most practical item to cram into a suitcase when you’re leaving everything and everyone you’ve ever known.
Apart from my dad.
My dad.The blood.
My eyes spring open and I twist my head, being rewarded with a sickening swing from my internal camera, nausea rising until I grip the side of the bed and close my eyes, swallowing saliva to fight back the urge.
Where am I?
I am not at all sure and the tiny mind-picturemy eyes just took doesn’t match to anything held on record. A soft cramp teases the back of my calf muscle and I stiffen, relieved when it decides that’s enough for now and I can relax.
A soft snort sounds near me and I roll in that direction, freezing when I see the boy in bed next to me. Lachlan. Enough alcohol wafts from his pores that I hold my breath, afraid I’ll get second-hand drunkenness if I inhale.
