“If you hate me so much, why thehellare you kissing me?”
“Because a stupid part of me thinks I can fuck you from my system. That way I won’t care when I bleed you dry.”
His hands fist in my hair as he roughly tugs off my jeans. I whimper against his mouth as he kisses me, devouring my tongue, our teeth clashing in desperation. If I had a working brain, I’d marvel at what he admitted to—but I’m too busy aching with how badly I want him to touch me.
But there’s that word, buzzing at the edge of my awareness…
His hips grind into mine as he presses me back against the seat. I gasp, pulling him closer. I feel his hardness between my legs and there’s a little voice whispering in the back of my head, telling me to stop…
I arch, groaning. He holds one arm above my head and tugs at his jeans, releasing his thick cock as he does it, grinding his shaft against my pussy. I’m so wet it’s sloppy and slick and feels so damn good. There’s only a thin sheen of panty fabric between him and me, and my skull’s on fire and my heart’s a mess in my throat, and I have to twist to get a knee up between us.
He grunts in surprise when I kick him back. I lay there, panting for air, still spread as he kneels a few inches away, his cock hard and long. It takes a lot of effort not to look.
"Wait a second,” I say, cheeks starting to burn with shame. “I’m sorry, but I have to tell you something.”
“I hope it’s important.” He strokes himself slowly. Which is about the worst thing he could do right now. It makes me want to scream with how much I need him between my legs right now, but fear ultimately wins out, like it always does with me.
“God, this is mortifying.” I push back, covering myself with my arms and tugging up my pants. “Can you quit with the, you know—“ I nod at his stroking hand.
He stops and looks very amused. “Don’t tell me you’ve never done this before.”
My eyes drop to my hands. Now I want to throw up with embarrassment. I never should’ve let him get this far and now I’m having about the most uncomfortable conversation of my entire life. “I’ve never had the chance,” I say quietly. My voice sounds small and I feel tiny.
His smirk fades, which is a first, but I don’t have the capacity to enjoy it. I’m too busy feeling pathetic.
“I didn’t know.” He stops touching himself. “You’re really a virgin? You’re not fucking with me?”
“You’d deserve it if I was,” I snap, blinking back tears. “But yes, god, don’t make me feel like I’m fucking weird because of it, okay?”
“No, you’re not weird at all, it’s just?—“
“Justwhat?! It’s bizarre for a woman my age to still be a virgin? Well, guess what? Every guy who might’ve wanted to sleep with me ended up disappearing after a date or two. I’ve never had a boyfriend for longer than a week and that was in sixth grade, and mostly because it happened exclusively online. You ever wonderwhat my father did for my childhood? Mostly, he fucked me up from a distance, that’s what.”
I pull on my pants. I can’t believe I’m having this conversation right now. I should’ve gone with it, slept with him, gotten the whole virginity thing out of the way, but now it’s sitting between us like a big fat tumor.
Which isn’t fair. I would’ve had sex with someone a long time ago if I ever had the chance. But my father’s men have been scaring away boyfriends my whole life, and eventually I gave up on the idea of having a normal romantic relationship.
Gabe sighs and sits back, pulling his underwear back on. I’m shaking with how badly I want this to be over. If I could go invisible, I would. He’s going to treat me like a freak now, mostly thanks to this terrible timing, but also because he probably doesn’t want to get involved with a loser virgin like me.
But instead of pulling away, he moves closer. “There’s nothing wrong with it.”
“Bullshit.”
“I’m serious. So you haven’t had sex.” He watches me, the hunger still in his eyes. “That doesn’t change a damn thing.”
My breath hitches in my chest. Competing, complicated emotions war for control. I’m tempted to jump out of the car right now and take my chances on survival. But I’m also tempted to beg him to fill me to the brim, to fuck me and show me what I’ve been desperately missing and wanting ever since I found out sex is even a thing.
“Well, I think it means I’m not going to do it for the first time in the back seat of a moving car.”
He dips his chin, eyes wrinkling with amusement. “That’s probably fair.”
“God, I feel like an idiot.”
“Don’t. I’m glad you told me.” He puts a hand on my thigh. "You should be proud of yourself. Not many people wait until marriage these days.”
I laugh despite myself. It’s not actually funny, but he’s being kind and shockingly gentle about this, and I’m relieved he’s not making me feel worse.
“Who said I’m having sex at all? Maybe I’m trying celibacy.”
