In For the Kill (7 page)

She couldn't stop struggling. It stoked the panicked, frantic energy like some crazy feedback loop. But he was incredibly strong. He steadily nudged her body into the position he wanted, flailing legs splayed, flopping arms pinned, chest heaving against his weight. Somehow immobilizing her without crushing her.

He let go of her arms, ignoring her slapping and flailing, and nestled his stiff cock against the folds of her labia. Slowly, rhythmically sliding it up and down, so that his cock stroked her in a long, gliding, oblique caress. His cockhead popped triumphantly out over the hood of her clit, gleaming from her lube—and disappeared again for a slow, voluptuous drag downward. She stared down, panting. His pulsing club of flesh was so thick, so hot and shiny. He caressed her clit with his cockhead. Circling, just enough pressure to madden her.

“Now,” he said. “Fight me now.”

The challenge in his eyes set her off, like the starting gun of a race, but he'd positioned her cleverly so that every writhing, heaving move she made just rubbed his thick shaft deliciously over and around her clit. Every desperate jerk and twist just made it worse. Or better. Tension clutched her throat. Her muscles were clenched and trembling.

Too much input, emotion, sensation. She was overloading.

He stopped, shifting his body so that he was no longer grinding against her, but poised and motionless, muscles clenched. Eyes closed.

She squirmed furiously in his grip. “Sam? What the hell are you doing? Why did you stop?”

“Stop moving,” he rasped. “Stay still, just for a second.”

“Still, my ass!” she snapped. “You were the one who got me all worked up. Don't you dare play games with me, or I'll kill you!”

“Just stop moving, or I'll come all over you,” he begged. “Damn it, Sveti! Give me a second to breathe it down!”

“That is your problem, not mine! Move, goddamnit!”

His grin flashed. “Demanding bitch,” he muttered, but he resumed his rhythmic pulsing.

Sveti worked herself against his body, her movements frenzied, her gaze locked with his. He held her so tight, keeping her safe as the whole universe heaved up beneath her and turned inside out.

When her eyes fluttered open, he was on his knees, intent upon rolling a condom over himself. He caught her gaze, and his smile flashed. “You game to go all the way?” he asked. “You up for that?”

“I'm up for anything.” Her throat was cracked and dry.

“We never talked safe sex,” he said. “Or contraception. Just so you know, I've been tested recently. No STDs. No sex since then.”

“Me neither. And I have a contraceptive implant.”

“Good.” He didn't look at her as he smoothed latex over his thick shaft, stroking it from root to head. “I'm using a condom anyway, of course. Just because that's what you do, when it's a one-off.”

“Ah, yes,” she managed inanely. “Of course.”

He rolled on top of her. “Got any fight left?” He gripped her wrists. “Because I have plenty left for you.”

“For you, Sam, always.”

He laughed as he jerked her into position, letting go of her hands to lift her thighs and spread them wide. He hissed with pleasure as she shoved against his chest, her nails digging into him.

“Cat claws,” he muttered, as he nudged his cock against her. “Go ahead. Hit me, scratch me. I won't care.”

“We'll see,” she panted back, swatting him. “I hit hard.”

“Do your worst, babe.” He thrust, a sharp, hard lunge.

She cried out, tightening against the sharp, awful pain.

Sam froze. His face went blank. He stared at her for a long moment. “Holy shit,” he whispered. “Oh, Sveti. No fucking way.”

She didn't move, or speak. It hurt too much. Sam seemed likewise frozen. Seconds ticked by.

“You're a
virgin?
” His voice cracked.

There was no point in answering. It was painfully obvious. She tugged at her trapped hands. He let go immediately.

“You didn't tell me?” He sounded furious. “That's insane!”

“Don't yell,” she retorted. “I didn't know it was required, to tell you everything about my sexual—”

“I would never have been that rough! Did you set me up for this? On purpose? That is so fucked up!”

She jerked onto her elbows. “No!” she protested. “I didn't know it would . . .
oh.
” Her voice choked off as Sam withdrew, staring down.

He sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh, Jesus,” he muttered, and lunged for a box of tissues by the bed. He grabbed a handful.

“What?” She struggled to sit up.

“You're bleeding,” he snarled. “Here, take these.”

Sveti stared blankly at the wad of tissues in his outstretched hand. After a moment, he made a harsh, impatient sound and pressed them between her thighs himself. “Squeeze your legs together, hard.”

She did so, but her face burned, and her privates stung. She was mortified. “Is it so much? How much is, ah . . . I mean, have you ever—”

“Had sex with virgins? A couple times. Once in high school, once in college. They didn't bleed as much as you. One hardly at all. But I didn't go in that hard, either! Because they fucking told me first, Sveti!”

“I'm sorry,” she whispered, helplessly. “Really.”

He slid off the bed and slapped the door of the adjoining bathroom open with a smack of his elbow. The thud made her jump.

She stared at the patch of blood on the sheets. She hadn't expected that. Or for it to hurt so much. Not from what her friends said about their first times. It hadn't been such a big deal for them.

Though it didn't surprise her. Many things that were no big deal for other people were fraught with peril and embarrassment for her.

It was, after all, the goddamn story of her life.

C
HAPTER
5

S
am stared in horrified fascination at blood going down the drain, swirling around his toes. He should have known. In retrospect, it was so clear, but he'd been distracted by his clamoring dick, and the statistical improbability of a woman that beautiful managing to stay untouched for so long. And a contraceptive implant? What the fuck was that about?

God. He wanted to slam his head into a door.

Her shadow flickered behind the shower curtain. Rings rasped, as the curtain slid aside. She waited. He couldn't bear to turn and look.

She laid a hand on his wet shoulder. “Sam—”

“Not fair, Sveti.” He pushed her aside so he could step onto the mat and dried himself, careful not to meet her eyes. “You've been busting my balls since we met. But this? Is all this carefully scripted to make me feel like shit? If so, congratulations. It's working.”

“I'm sorry,” she repeated. “I didn't know—”

“That your hymen was intact? Seriously?”

“No! I mean, I didn't know it would be like . . . that. My girlfriends said . . . well, it was different for them. Not so dramatic. I was actually hoping you wouldn't notice, to tell the truth. I didn't want you to know.”

With that, he did look at her, uncomprehending. “Why not?”

She hesitated. “I was ashamed,” she admitted, her voice halting.

That left him floundering. “You lost me, Sveti.”

She pressed her hands to her face. “It seemed silly. So childish. I didn't want to seem like . . . a loser.”

“Everybody's a virgin at some point,” he said. “There's no stigma.”

“Oh, come on!” she snapped. “It's embarrassing! That I could never manage to . . . that no one ever wanted to . . . oh, bah, I don't know. To be twenty-four, to have gone to high school and college, and all that time, I never managed to get laid. It felt kind of . . . pathetic.”

His jaw was sagging. “You?” He stared down at her body, which was such an astonishment to his senses, he could barely formulate a thought. “You, the goddess on high? The princess on the pedestal? You, pathetic? That's pretty goddamn funny, Sveti.”

“It's strange, Sam, but I'm not laughing,” she said.

“You know you're drop-dead gorgeous, right? You know that any man who looks at you wants to fuck you. Tell me you know that.”

She winced. “That's a ridiculous overstatement. I'm glad that you think it's so, but I don't feel it. I look in the mirror and I just see plain old me, nothing so earthshaking. But, ah, thanks.”

Plain old me. Hah. He gestured at his own erection, which had revved up to full length. “Check me out. Even after being traumatized, my banner's still on high. I never thought I'd be so heavy into pain. I'm discovering all kinds of dark, scary stuff about myself.”

“Dark, scary stuff is my specialty.” She grabbed him from behind and gave him a tight, awkward hug, and then fled for the bedroom.

He lunged for her, clamped his arms over her belly, and hid his face against her hair. “All I wanted was to please you,” he muttered.

She leaned back against him, with a jerky, shuddering sigh. “I know,” she assured him. “Really. And you did. You do.”

“Why do you make it so fucking hard?”

“I don't know.” Her voice shook. “I swear. I would stop if I knew how, but I don't expect it'll get any better with time. I'm a mess, when it comes to . . . this kind of stuff. Probably not worth the trouble.”

It was precisely what he'd been telling himself ever since he met the girl, but his arms clamped tighter, squeezing out what air might have been in her lungs. “Trouble like my wildest dreams,” he muttered.

He was such a masochist, whispering sweet nothings to this girl, but she was leaning back, accepting the comfort of his body, and he was strung out on the sweet buzz that vibrated in his skin whenever they touched. It was a fleeting moment of grace before the next door slammed in his face, and he would, by God, exploit it to the bitter end.

He was just made that way. He never learned.

She wiggled in his grip, turning to press her face against his chest. She tasted the salt of dried sweat on his skin. The little flash of warm pink tongue acted like accelerant tossed onto a fire.

Then she reached down and gripped his cock.

Whoa.
Sam's breath froze. His shaft twitched and throbbed. She stroked, squeezed, from root to tip. For a virgin, she had some great instinctive moves. But no way. Not now, after what just happened.

He tugged her hand away. “Time out, Sveti. Take a moment. Clean up, chill out. Here's a towel for you.” He passed her a towel from the stack and marched out without looking back at her.

He regretted it, the instant the door clicked shut behind him.

He turned on the bedside lamp, but the splotch of red on the sheet horrified him all over again, so he switched it back off. The candle was more forgiving. He got to work stripping the bed. Sveti came out as he was wrestling a fresh contour sheet over the mattress.

She moved to help, but he waved her away. “I've got it,” he said. “Just let me get this sheet someplace where I don't have to look at it.”

“It wasn't your fault,” she said.

He scooped up the linens. “I'm the one with the dick,” he said. “Technically, that makes it my fault.” He hauled them into the spare bedroom that functioned as his catch-all and laundry room, and found her bent over the bed, tucking and straightening when he got back. The angle showcased her ass, painting it tenderly with candlelight and shadows. He wanted to drop to his knees, shove her thighs apart, and tongue-kiss the shadowy recesses of her pussy. It made him dizzy.

“I said I'd take care of it,” he grumbled.

She straightened up, turned. “I didn't set you up to make you feel bad,” she blurted. “I would never, ever do that to you.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

She cleared her throat. “I thought men liked to be the first one.”

Sam tossed the comforter up and let it drift down onto the bed. “There could be some sort of Stone Age ego rush to it,” he admitted. “Presupposing the girl tells you, so you can adjust your technique and not ruin her first time. Jesus, Sveti. What were you thinking?”

“Stop scolding. You've scolded enough. Nothing was ruined.” She straightened the comforter until it rested on the bed with mathematical precision. “Please, don't feel bad. I'm fine. It was amazing. You can have your Stone Age ego rush, if you want. You're entitled to it. I never knew how good messing around could feel, until that day in Bruno's studio. Ever since then, I've been wondering if I was building it up in my mind. If it could possibly be as awesome as I remembered.”

He waited until his head was about to explode. “And? Was it?”

“Better,” she confessed. “Infinitely better. Right up to the part that wasn't your fault.”

Sam blew out a sharp sigh and shoved the shaggy hair off his face. “I'd be happier about that if it was our wedding night.”

Leaden silence followed that manipulative, childish, jerk-off pronouncement, but fuck it, why even bother with restraint? What was the point in all that effort? He'd get no return on his investment.

“Oh, Sam,” she whispered. “That's not fair.”

“Sure isn't.” He folded the comforter back and sat on the bed, his head in his hands.

“I've messed this up.” Sveti's small voice sounded as miserable as he felt. “The last thing I wanted was to hurt you. Shall I call a car?”

He startled them both with his swift lunge and grab. He jerked her jealously close. “Oh, no. I haven't suffered anywhere near enough tonight,” he said. “Lay it on me, Sveti. Let me see what else you've got.”

She gazed down with that sad, soulful look, the one that made him ache to make her laugh. Slid her fingers into his hair. The heels of her cool hands petted tenderly over the brush of stubble on his jaw.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” she whispered.

He cupped her ass, his long fingers gripping her hungrily. “I never wanted to hurt you, either. I wanted to make you come until you fainted.”

She sank to her knees, seized his cock. His body jerked back in startled alarm. “No way!”

“Why not?” She kissed the top of his thigh and rubbed her soft cheek against the grain of his body hair.

“After what just happened? Are you fucking
kidding
me?” He choked off a moan as she did one of those world-class twist-'n'-swirl moves. “Not comfortable with this,” he gasped. “Jesus, Sveti!”

Her smile was mysterious. “My goal is not to make you comfortable. My goal is to make you come until you faint.”

He shook with laughter, his hands clamped over his dick, holding her hands still. “You don't have to do this.”

“But I've wanted to. For years.” Her tongue darted out to lick the flushed, gleaming tip of his cockhead, the only part poking out of his fists.

“I can't,” he told her. “I'm traumatized.”

Another teasing lick and swirl. “This part of you doesn't seem traumatized at all,” she said.

“That part of me talks all kinds of trash. Don't listen to him.”

Her eyebrow tilted up. “Do you need to fight me, Sam? Is that what you need to get through the wall? Because I can give you that.”

He doubled over in silent laughter. Oh, shit. She was winning. He was toast. He looked up, opened his mouth, and abruptly forgot whatever he'd wanted to say. He just stared at her face. Soft with laughter. Her smile, so wide and relaxed. Shining. Bonfire bright.

“What?” she demanded.

“Your smile,” he said, helplessly. “Oh, my God, Sveti. Your smile is so goddamn beautiful, I can't even breathe.”

 

It was that look in his eyes, again. It scared her to death. “Don't,” she blurted. “Don't be silly and melodramatic. I can't take it.”

“Oh, no!” he said, in mock distress. “It's gone! I chased it away! Come back, please! Come back!”

She swatted his thigh. “Stop it!”

He stroked her cheek. “I've never seen that smile. You look so different. I don't see it enough. The whole world doesn't see it enough.”

Well, shit. It was the world's own damn fault for being so fucked up and crazy. But that was a bitchy thing to even think, let alone say.

Sam cupped her face and kissed her, delicately at first, but it bloomed instantly, from something tender and holy into something blazing and carnal. It felt so natural, inevitable, to bend down and take him in her mouth. She'd never gone down on anyone, nor had she been inclined to, until she'd seen Sam. At which point, a lot of things that had sounded distasteful to her had suddenly made sense.

He tasted wonderful, felt wonderful. She loved the vital throb of his heartbeat against her tongue, the velvet soft skin sheathing that thick, steely club, his salty scent. She cradled his heavy, pen-dulant balls in her hand, sucking him deep, swirling her tongue.

Sam clutched her shoulders, leaning over her. His muscles were rigid, like steel cables. “Have you ever done this before?” he asked.

She took the opportunity to rest her somewhat overextended jaw and drag in some deeper breaths. “No. Am I doing it wrong?”

“Fuck, no. It's amazing. Can I come in your mouth? Not that I'll have much choice, if you keep on like you're doing.”

A flush heated her face. “I'm fine with that.”

She leaned down to get back to it, but Sam cupped her chin and gazed down into her face. “I'm getting my Stone Age ego rush now,” he told her. “I like being your first. I like it so much, it scares me.”

“I'm glad that it's you, too.” She bent to the task once again.

He hunched over her, his breath deep, rasping pants. She deepened the long, tight, suckling strokes.

He shuddered, shouting hoarsely as the hot jets of salty come spurted inside her mouth. Almost too much for her to hold.

She rested her burning cheek on his thigh, cradling his cock in her hand. Only slightly softer. Still gleaming. He hunched, still panting.

She wiped her mouth and sat back on her heels, but as soon as she met his eyes, she wished that she hadn't.

She could give him pleasure, but it wouldn't make him happy for more than a fleeting moment. He wanted so much more.

His stark gaze pierced her like a needle. It made her want to die.

He got up and stumbled into the bathroom. Water ran. He came out holding out a glass. She nodded her thanks and drank.

“Your turn,” he said.

She was almost afraid to ask. “Ah . . . for what?”

He took the glass and tossed off the last gulp himself. “Cunnilingus,” he said matter-of-factly. “Let's get down to it.”

She laughed, startled. “This is not a game where we score points!”

“The hell it's not.” He set the glass down on the bedstand. “I love going down, and I have been told that I am reasonably good at it. I've been dreaming for years about putting my face between your legs. So let's get on with it, before you get sick of my whining bullshit and blow me off definitively.” He gripped her hips, dragged her across the mattress. Her torso fell backward.

She struggled up onto her elbows. “Wow! Smooth lead-in, Sam!”

“Yeah, I know. I'm actually a civilized guy, under normal circumstances,” he said. “But you're not normal circumstances. Rude stuff just falls out of my mouth with you. I'd apologize, if my basic socialization skills were functioning, but they're not. Filter failure.”