Release flashes through me, there in the living room with my framed family pictures above the mantle on the fireplace.
I curse Edward with every passing beat, slamming my eyes shut so I don’t have to see my father’s stoic posture in the gilt frame. Heat rushes to the area between my thighs and my muscles tighten. Then he’s there, his zipper down and his erection freed.
He shifts his trousers off his hips, grabbing the base of his dick and pushing my legs wider yet, then wipes his mouth on the back of his hand.
My cheeks flush with frustration. “No.”
He slicks the head of his dick against me. “You’re not in a position to say no.”
Desire zaps through me like electricity, and the warm wetness of pleasure between my legs gives another pulse. “You don’t own me. Not now, not ever, Eddie. You might think I’m going to sit here and let you fuck me, but I’m not.”
“You’re challenging me now?” He kisses me deeply, still working his dick against my opening. “Always challenging me. I love it.”
The seductive tenor of his voice causes goose bumps along my skin.
“This is going to hurt a little for your first time, but I’ll go as slow as I can.”
“I’m not giving you my virginity.” My hips arch up on their own.
“I’m going to keep you safe, Nicola. I’m going to keep you, period. You’re mine,” he whispers against my ear before nipping my neck. “Even if you hate me.”
I do hate him. Our families are on opposite sides. The police are after me for a crime he committed. And I’m done fighting him.
Especially when Edward pushes himself inside of me with a long thrust, too hungry to wait any longer. I gasp, freezing, worried he’ll rip me into pieces and tear my insides. A whimper escapes, and he stops with inches to spare.
“I told you it would hurt.”
I’m breathing heavily, nodding, but I’m not going to ask him to stop. Edward skims my hair back and kisses me again before he pushes all the way inside. My muscles have to adjust to the intrusion and the size of him, the agonized pinching sensation of something being stuck where it doesn’t belong.
The discomfort doesn’t last long, though. Not when he draws out and then thrusts back inside again without hesitation.
He’s not forcing this on me. He took the bait because this is what I wanted. Him. Only him.
He’s mine as much as I’m his, and when he starts to fuck me harder, my hesitation disappears. Desire for him eats me alive, but as his cock stretches my inside, I’m willing to give him every piece of me that’s left.
“Eddie.” I groan out his name, pinned to the couch by his body.
He forces me back, driving into me, excited to bury himself as deep as possible. His movements go jerky, and too soon, he’s rocking his pelvis in shallow strokes.
“Are you okay?”
“Keep moving.” I reach for him, and he shatters.
He picks up the movement, and the fire between us erupts, the soft hairs on my arms lifting. He’s moaning my name, sliding his fingers between us to work my sensitive clit. I wrap my legs around him to pull him against me closer, shuddering through every thrust.
“Fuck.” At the last minute, Edward pulls out, gripping his cock in his hand and spasming out his pleasure on my stomach. He grunts through the orgasm and paints my stomach with his come, thick ropes of it, before his balls give a final twitch, and he releases himself.
We’re on the edge of something strange and great, I think as we stare each other down.
Will there be time to go back? Or did I just damn myself completely?
Still, there is something so sturdy about him.
As if my subconscious understands that Edward Balestra is a man I can rely on to always be the stone beneath my feet rather than the anchor I always assumed he’d be. A sense of peace and security steals over me, found only in his arms and in the nonchalant caress of his index finger over my bicep.
Instead of asking him, I press my lips together in a line that may as well be melded shut before he kisses me a final time, stroking his hand over my cheek.
Honesty has its places, but after the vulnerable sex, I’m in a terrible place to be honest.