Page 84 of The Very First Night

I press my lips to his, nipping at his bottom lip before releasing it with a pop. Tanner groans, his pace quickening and the circling of his thumb intensifying, yet I can still feel him holding back.

“Tanner?” I ask.

“Hm?”

“Fuck me. I want you to fuck me. Hard.”

He pauses to look at me. “If I do that, I’m going to come really fast, and you haven’t.”

“And I’m telling you that if you let go, I will come in like two-point-five seconds. I’m right there, so fuck me,” I demand.

This seems to be all he needs. To my delight, he gives in to his carnal desires and thrusts into me with desperate fervor. My body responds immediately, my limbs quivering as pleasure pulses through me like an unstoppable force.

With every thrust, I grow louder, so much so that Tanner lifts his hand to cover my mouth at the exact moment I bite down on my lip to stifle a scream. The intensity builds, threatening to consume us both. Within seconds, my orgasm washes over me, thrusting me into complete and total oblivion.

Tanner’s hands tighten on my hips as he follows me over the edge, his quickening pace matching the frantic beating of my heart. With a final thrust, he buries himself deep inside me and I feel the pulsing release of his climax. The sensation is new to me, but in this moment, there is nothing else more erotic than feeling Tanner lose control and spill himself inside me without holding back. It is an intimate act that bonds us in ways I never thought possible, and while I know I will more than likely freak out over what it could mean tomorrow, right now…holy shit.

“Fuck,” he says with a groan as his head collapses against my chest.

“Yeah,” I gasp.

We stay like this for a few moments before he slowly pulls himself out of me, the sensation of being so thoroughly full replaced by the foreign sensation of his cum dripping out of me. He seems to notice it too, because the moment his eyes find my pussy, the expression on his face is undeniable.

Pure, unadulterated possessiveness.

Tanner pries his eyes away from me and hurries to find an old kitchen towel—one I guarantee we will be throwing away instead of washing and returning to the drawer—and runs it under warm water. Once the towel is sopping wet, he wrings out the excess moisture into the sink and kneels before me.

It’s weirdly intimate, having him clean me up after what we just did. It’s an aspect that I never would have considered, but as he gently wipes the warm cloth over my oversensitive core, I can’t shake the thought that I like this.

I like this a lot, and the idea of telling him that and potentially blowing this whole thing to shit is terrifying.

“We should go to bed,” I suggest.

Tanner nods in agreement and quickly wipes away the remaining evidence before throwing the towel into the trash. Taking my hands, he helps me hop down from the counter, and together we make our way upstairs.

At my bedroom door, just as I reach for the doorknob, exhausted and ready to collapse into my sheets, I feel Tanner’s arms wrap around my middle. Goosebumps erupt on the back of my neck as he presses his lips to my ear, his hot breath instantly rendering my body prepared for round two.

“I don’t think so, sweetheart. My bed, now.”

He wraps his muscular arms around me, lifting me easily off the ground and setting me in front of his bedroom door in the nearly pitch-black hallway. I can’t help but giggle as he playfully swats my behind, urging me toward his bedroom. The door opens with a creak and I can feel the anticipation building as we step inside, the scent of his cologne filling the air, and it’s becoming abundantly clear that he doesn’t care about me being loud one bit.

FORTY

KAT

I sit at my desk, fidgeting with the miniature figurines and trinkets scattered across its surface, including a framed picture of Jenna and me freshman year at Flash Fest with a corn dog in each hand. My laptop is open in front of me, displaying the virtual therapy session that will begin in mere minutes.

Janet, the therapist I’ve been seeing since summer, appears on the screen. Despite our previous sessions, I feel a wave of anxiety wash over me as I realize I will have to confront and share my feelings for the first time in months.

“Hello, Kat. I was so happy you called to schedule.” Janet smiles softly.

It’s admittedly weird to be talking to her through a webcam, but it was either this or find someone in Kent, and the idea of having to find a new therapist made me feel sick.

“Hey, Janet,” I reply politely as I sandwich my hands between my legs and lean toward the screen.

“So, tell me—what made you want to schedule an appointment? The last time we spoke, you said you planned to look into on-campus options but didn’t seem too keen on it. Explain to me what brought you here.”

I proceed to tell her everything. Well, mostly everything. I recount the conversation between Elijah and me earlier in the semester and how that ended—what he said to me and how it impacted me. We discuss the letter I received from Patrick, how I wrote him back, and how, despite everything, I can’t shake the invasive curiosity when it comes to my father.

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