Page 27 of Shattered Hearts

I yank up his sweater and glide my fingertips along his abs. His skin is hot and smooth, and his chest is sprinkled with coarse hair that tickles my skin. I’ll never get tired of exploring his body, of discovering every muscle, every curve of every bone, every crevasse, over and over again.

“I want you, Gage. I need to feel you inside me.”

He leans away and stares into my eyes, his hazel irises warm, but serious. I prepare for him to tell me no, to tell me that I don’t know what I want, and I’m on the verge of exploding in anger. I’m tired of people telling me what I want, what Ishouldwant, what’s good for me and what’s not. I must havesomedecision-making capability left. I need to have freedom, some small amount of freedom, to still make my own choices. That includes whomever I give my body to.

“Okay.” He rubs his lips over my jaw. “But we’re going to go slow. I’m going to wear a condom, and if you decide, at any point, you don’t want to, all you have to do is say so, and I won’t be mad. Okay?”

“Yes.” I swallow, the implication of what we just agreed to do setting in. “I don’t know what to do.”

Gage presses my hand to the fly of his jeans. He’s hard, rock solid. “Yes, you do. The first step is not to be scared of me. If you’re scared, you won’t enjoy it. If you’re scared, it could ruin what we have.”

“You won’t hurt me.” That is one of the few things I will always know...that is one of the few things I could never forget.

“I might, but not because I want to. You haven’t had sex in a long time, Zarah. It might be uncomfortable.”

“That’s okay. I can handle it.”

“You don’t have to ‘handle’ anything. If it’s too much, we’ll stop. Simple as that.”

I nod.

“Then come here.”

He cups my butt and pulls me closer as he devours my mouth, our tongues tangling. I throw my leg over his and grind against his cock. Should I call it a cock? Penis is so clinical, but cock sounds raw, dirty.

I don’t feel dirty right now, though. I feel beautiful. Desirable. Gage loves me, wants to show me how much, and there’s nothing dirty about that, nothing shameful.

He nudges me onto my back and lifts my sweater. He brushes sweet, lingering kisses all over my belly, moving upward to tease my nipples through the lace of my bra. His hair is soft under my touch, and I tangle my fingers in it. His whiskers graze my skin, and miracle of miracles, I laugh. I’m about to have sex, and I’m laughing, not scared at all, happy I found someone who accepts me the way that I am, who doesn’t want to punish me because of what my last name is.

“That’s a beautiful sound,” he says, meeting my eyes, and he kisses me, his tongue tracing my lips. “Sit up and let me take your sweater off.”

“You, too.”

He tugs my fuzzy sweater over my head, and I do the same for him. The window’s blinds are closed, and I’m grateful we’re not making love in the sunlight. We’re cocooned in semi-darkness, but I see well enough to memorize every part, every piece, of him.

“Will you take your bra off?”

“Yeah.” I fumble with the hooks, and his breath catches when I finally ease the satin and lace off my body. I love the look in his eyes as he consumes me without touching me, my breasts small, but perky, my nipples puckered in desire.

“Jesus.”

“You’ve seen me before.”

“Yeah, but I’ll never get used to how beautiful you are. Can I kiss you?”

“You have to stop asking me or you’ll ruin the mood. I’m here. That should be enough permission.”

He looks like he wants to argue, but I have a point. Every question, every inquiry of consent, takes away from our intimacy. I’ve already said I want this and he’s already told me I can say no.

That’s enough.

Gage leans over and sucks a nipple into his mouth, and I gasp. I’m not used to how connected my breasts are to my core, how the suction can elicit such a response between my legs. I arch into his embrace. I want more, I need more, and he bites a little, just the tiniest bit of pain sending a roaring rush of fire to every nerve ending in my body.

I whimper. “Yes. Yes.”

He moves his attention to the other side, and he repeats the process, licking at me, nibbling, love nips. My muscles quake. “Gage.”

“Yeah?”

---