Authors: Erin McCarthy
Tags: #Romance, #dpg pyscho, #New Adult
“Are you really selling this house?”
“Yes. Let’s start fresh with a house that doesn’t have bad memories.”
“But all my memories here are good.” I didn’t want to leave Richfield. I’d been happy there. I’d met him, had gained my freedom. We’d created a home together, complete with a Christmas tree and our dog. Because I had absolutely emotionally adopted Amelia, and she had me as well.
“Then we’ll keep it.” He kissed my earlobe, tugging it gently between his teeth. “Whatever you want, love. Anything you want is yours.”
“All I want is you,” I whispered.
We went into my room, Devin carefully closing the door behind us and locking it. Amelia had padded in quietly along with us, and she went and lay down on the blanket in the corner I had put there for her weeks earlier. The room was dark and I stood there, unsure what to do. Devin moved around the bed to the bathroom and flicked the light on, flooding the room with a bright beam.
It made me shield my eyes, but immediately he pulled the bathroom door closed, leaving it only open a few inches, just enough to keep us out of total darkness.
I stood there, awkwardly, hands stuck down into my pockets, rolling on my ankles. But then I remembered the box I’d left sitting on the floor and I bent over and picked it up before it accidentally was disturbed again. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with my grandmother’s ashes, but I had the idea that I might walk down to the beach come spring and toss them into the ocean. I couldn’t imagine I’d want to keep them forever, but I wasn’t ready to get rid of them right away either. So I carefully pulled open the top drawer of my dresser and slid the box in there.
“I’m really sorry,” Devin said. “About your grandmother, about knocking the bag out of your hand.”
“I know.” I shut the drawer. “It’s okay.”
“If there is anything I can do to help with anything, let me know.”
I nodded. “I appreciate that. We can talk about it later. I’m not really ready to deal with it, but it means a lot that you’re here for me.” It was a novel feeling and I was both basking in the idea and balking from it. I didn’t know how to graciously accept help. It hadn’t been offered to me very often, and sometimes even when it was, it had strings attached.
When I turned back, he smiled, his arm outstretched. I took the hand he was offering. He led me to the bed, and my heart was racing, with nerves and anticipation. I didn’t want to disappoint him again. I knew that I had before Christmas. Not that he would ever say that, but I knew.
Urging me onto the bed, he kissed me before pausing to yank his shirt off. I reached up and touched his chest, endlessly fascinated by those muscles he had there. He didn’t have any tattoos on his chest, and I was glad. I didn’t want the distraction. I just wanted his smooth skin and the hard, masculine, underlying motion. Devin bent over me, his belt buckle hitting the button on my jeans, his arms holding him up so he didn’t crush me. His hair fell forward and I reached up, sliding my fingers into the silken strands.
When his mouth covered mine, I opened my lips automatically, wanting that intimate sweep of his tongue over mine. He didn’t just comply, he made love to my mouth with his touch, leaving me breathless, body restless, burning. He didn’t touch me anywhere, just kissed me endlessly, like he couldn’t possibly get enough of the taste of me. I shifted my hands so that they were on his back, gripping him, pulling him closer to me.
Finally when my lips were swollen and my breathing was ragged, he sat back on his knees. Tugging at my sweater, he said, “Sit up. Let’s take this off.”
I half sat up and let him pull the shirt over my head. But he made no move to take my bra off too. My necklace thumped back against my chest. It was a tiny heart on a cheap chain.
“What is this?” he asked. “I’ve never seen you wear this.”
“It’s always under my shirt.” It was so small it was likely he hadn’t even noticed it when we’d gotten partially undressed in the family room after putting up the Christmas tree.
“Where did you get it?” He fingered it, the tiny heart dwarfed by his long fingers.
“It was a Christmas present the year I turned ten. From my foster mother. She was diabetic and she wasn’t mobile, so I did a lot of housework there, but she was very kind to me.” When Devin dropped the necklace, I rolled it between my fingers. “She told me that I had the two greatest gifts a girl could hope for- intelligence and a good heart.”
“She was right.” He rubbed his thumb over my lip. “Both of yours are immense. What happened to her?”
“Jesus.” Devin shifted so that he was lying beside me. He pulled me against him, snugly. “You amaze me.”
“Why?” I wished he hadn’t asked about the necklace. Or that I hadn’t answered. It had shifted the mood from seductive to solemn.
But Barb had been a very special woman and I couldn’t relegate her gift to a conversation to have later. She was one of those stops along the way that had given me strength and courage and hope. Somewhere I imagined she knew that, or I hoped she did.
“Because you’ve survived some really shitty situations.” His fingers traced lazily back and forth across my stomach. “We don’t have to do this all tonight, you know. We can get there one step at a time.”
He was talking about sex. “Please don’t treat me like I’m fragile. I’m not.”
“That’s not what I meant. But you’re inexperienced.”
“So were you, once. And how did you get experience?” I asked. “By doing.”
He kissed me, pulling my bottom lip into his mouth before releasing. His amber eyes were dark in the muted light. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Are you sure
want to do this? Because I’m starting to wonder.” A girl couldn’t help but get a complex when a guy was hesitating that much.
“Of course. I want you so bad it’s killing me,” he murmured. “But I’m afraid of hurting you. Of taking it too far.”
“I trust you.” I did. “And this time I promise not to blurt out any awkward confessions right in the middle.”
“Never be afraid to share your feelings.” His fingers had shifted lower, over the front of my jeans, to stroke between my thighs. “You can tell me anything.”
God, that felt good, but it was barely anything. Such an unfulfilling tease. “Then I’m telling you that I want you. Now.”
His fingers were just dancing around my thighs, lightly scraping over my labia, my clit, down even lower. It caused goose bumps to pop up all over my flesh, and an ache stirred to life. “Fine,” he said, his tone teasing. “Jesus. Bossy.”
I stuck my tongue out at him.
While he popped the button on my jeans, he buried his head in my neck and flicked his tongue over my skin. “Brat.”
“If I’m a brat, I think that makes you an asshole,” I murmured back.
He laughed softly, taking my zipper down. “I never claimed otherwise. We’re both walking around with our arms folded across our chests, aren’t we? I guess that’s why we understand each other.”
“Yes. We do.” I sucked in a breath when he moved his hand inside my panties. I hadn’t been anticipating that and his long, warm fingers stroking through my moist heat had me letting out a soft moan.
“You like that?” His tongue dipped into my bellybutton as his finger sank inside me.
I nodded, even though I knew he couldn’t see me. But he glanced back up at me, removing his hand immediately.
“Oh,” I said in disappointment.
“Take your clothes off,” he said. “Stand up and undress for me. Prove to me this is what you really want.”
I immediately hesitated. “I’m not a stripper.”
“I’m not asking for a dance routine to go with it.” He sat up. “Here, I’ll show you what I want.” Devin rose off the bed and stood next to it, facing me.
I rolled on my side to better see what he was doing, palms sweating with nervousness. There was no way I could just stand in front of him and strip. I couldn’t expose myself like that. But it didn’t mean that I didn’t want to be with him, that I didn’t want him to take my virginity. I did. And I knew he would give me pleasure. I just wanted it to be in the dark, with him covering me with his own body. I didn’t know how to be overtly sexy.
He took his zipper down and shed his jeans, kicking them off his feet. Then he peeled his boxer briefs off and ended up standing in front of me completely naked. His thighs were muscular, his stomach the same, fit and with intriguing lines I wanted to explore with my tongue. I swallowed hard, a hot rush of desire flooding both my mouth and my panties. He was hard and sexy and he was mine.
More than my lover. More than my boyfriend. My future
The man I loved. I would be his wife and that was more amazing than any of this.
His erection bounced a little as he moved closer to me and I stared at it. It was fascinating, all smooth skin, tight testicles capping the bottom of his shaft. Without thinking, I reached out and touched it, curious what it would feel like. When he groaned, I looked up at him in question. “What?”
He didn’t answer the question. He just said, “Stroke it. Please.”
I wasn’t sure how to exactly, but I experimented, gripping him, and sliding my hand up and down the length of him. I could tell when he approved, because he made a sound in the back of his throat and his erection actually jumped a little in my hand. But there was too much friction to comfortably stroke him any faster so I tentatively covered the tip with my mouth, knowing salvia would be helpful. I may not have been a sexual expert, but it wasn’t like I didn’t have a clue what was what. I had watched movies, even what could be considered porn, out of curiosity. I’d seen blow jobs, or emulations of them. I never went into any situation without doing my research. But watching was easier than doing.
Devin murmured my name. “That’s right, baby, I like that a lot.”
It was all the encouragement I needed. I tried to take him all the way, but I didn’t open my throat and didn’t get very far. But I did manage to succeed in lubing him up with my saliva, so I went back to stroking him with my hand, this time much more successfully. I tested squeezing him tighter, and was rewarded with a soft curse. I explored his balls, tickling over them, amazed at their tight skin.
But Devin put his hands on my head and tilted me so I was forced to look up at him. “If you’re doing this to get out of taking your clothes off, you can just stop. I’m not changing my mind on that.”
“No,” I said, shocked. “I did it because I wanted to touch it. You.” I still didn’t think I could stand in front of him and bare it all, but my body was responding already to his, to the sensation of his skin, his scent. To his clear arousal.
“Good. But just so you know I’m not taking your clothes off. So if you want them off you have to do it. Standing up. I need to know you’re not going here, doing this, just to please me.”
“Don’t you trust me?” I asked, even as my nipples tightened at his words. He sounded like he wanted to thrown me down and fuck me hard, but he was restraining himself completely. I wasn’t sure how we’d gotten there, but I did know that I was one hundred percent turned on and ready to have sex with him. “I won’t manipulate you. That’s not me.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. Of course that’s not you.” He bent over and kissed me, hard. “I need to go find a condom.”
“I have some.”
“You do?” Devin looked scandalized.
Climbing off the bed, I went to my bathroom. “It seemed good to be prepared.” For him. I had bought them on a trip to town, on impulse. Impulse and optimism.
“I don’t even know what to think about that.”
Quickly retrieving them, I went back to the bedroom. Devin was sprawled out on the bed, gloriously naked, hands behind his head. The sight brought me up short. He was hot. I wasn’t sure I was truly entitled to all that sexy man.
But I knew that I had been brought to Richfield for a reason. That I was entitled to him, and his love. That maybe he was my reward for a lifetime of loneliness.
“Don’t think anything about it all. Just use it.” I tossed the condoms down next to him on the nightstand.
Then I took a deep breath and stood next to the bed. I knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t back down, and if he wasn’t feeling indulgent, he wasn’t going to give in. For whatever reason, he wanted me to be the one to take my clothes off. I didn’t want to at all, but I had to. I had to prove to him that I was adult enough to satisfy him, that I was a woman. That I wasn’t willing to have sex with him purely for his pleasure. I wanted the pleasure for me as well.
So I started to take down my jeans, wiggling to get them off. Devin just watched me, slowly, carefully. When they were at my feet, I bent over and pulled them off. This wasn’t so hard. I didn’t feel uncomfortable. I peeled my socks off too, then reached behind me for my bra hook. But then I realized that would be a better thing to do standing up, not bending over. Getting a little flustered, I shot back up, elbows at an odd angle, hands still behind my back.
Without any urgency, Devin reached over to the nightstand and pulled the box of condoms towards him.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I’m hard. I want you desperately. I’m putting a condom on to help me control myself.”
“Do you really want me?” I asked, hating myself for asking it. But doing it anyway.
“God, yes. I want you the way I’ve never wanted anyone ever.”
That was enough to have me popping my bra hook and sliding the straps down my arms. I held the cups against my breasts in a last attempt at modesty. At hiding myself from him. But then I realized Devin had already seen all there was to see of me. He’d seen inside me. He’d listened to my thoughts, my heart. It made total sense that he should be the one man I could trust to see my body completely bare.
So I dropped the bra.
Took down my panties.
And stood in front of him, heart racing, mouth hot, but confident.
“You’re beautiful,” he said. “I am the luckiest man alive.”
Somehow, when he said it, I believed him.
When he held out his hand for me, I took it, climbing on top of him. I didn’t know what I was doing exactly I just knew I wanted to feel my skin on his. I laid my chest on his, legs over his, the soft hair on his thighs tickling my flesh. We both sighed. It felt delicious. Intimate. Everything I had always imagined.