Page 15 of Into the Woods

“How old are you?” I ask, swallowing the rest of the whiskey from my glass. I know…I do, but I want her confirmation.

“I’ll be twenty-two next week,” is all she says. And the way her voice breaks at that does things to me that I’m not sure I want to address.

“And what are you not telling me, honeybee?” I crowd her, obliterating the meager space she put between us. “Are you saying you’re pure? Untouched? That your sweet virgin cunt has never been breached?”

Her eyes close as she takes a shaky breath. She’s uncomfortable. She’s doing everything she can to avoid me.

“I guarantee,chère, you can’t escape me. There is no getting away from this. Answer the question—are you a virgin?”

Her nod is almost imperceptible. Almost, but I see it. I see every single move she makes. Every emotion that crosses her face. Everything.

“What have you been waiting for, honeybee? Anyone in particular?”

She bites her lower lip and tries her best to look away from me, to escape, but she is in my sights and there is no way for her to avoid me.

“Who have you been waiting for? Who were you keeping yourself pure for, sweet thing?” The flush of pink spreading up from beneath the modest neckline of her dress is mesmerizing. “Was it me? You been waiting all this time for me to bust your cherry?”

God fucking dammit…is this real? How is she a goddamn virgin? If that’s the case, I don’t know that I can hold myself in check. To be her first…her only. To show her all the things she’s been missing. To teach her what pleasure is. Coach her on how to breathe through her nose—that she won’t actually die as she gags on my dick. That her orgasm,lepetit morde,can be reward enough for her efforts.

I want to guide her in her fucking sexual awakening. Fuck my life, because I sure as shit know that I cannot let anyone else claim that prize.

“Tell me you’ve been saving yourself for me.”

She takes a deep, bracing breath and sets her shoulders before responding. “No. Never. Anything I felt for you was stupid—a child’s fantasy. It was nothing.”

“Nothing? Never?” I say, my voice rumbling deep in my chest. “I call bullshit.”

I’m desperate to feel the heat radiating off of her body. The electric buzz of her excitement mixed with her fear of theunknown. The fear and trepidation of losing the one thing that she has that’s worth a fucking thing.

“Whatever I felt for you was the figment of a child’s imagination. The absolute naivety of a first crush, nothing more. And it’s gone, destroyed by the flames of humiliation of unrequited first love.”

First love? The fuck is she talking about? No twelve-year-old kid has the tiniest inkling of what love means. Hell, at almost thirty, I don’t know the first thing about it. Other than the fact that it’s a bargaining tool. Leverage to be used by my enemies. It’s nothing but a fucking weakness to be exploited by whoever wants to put me down. And there is no shortage of people with that high on their wish lists.

“That’s how you feel, huh?” I ask. “No lingering feelings here? Nothing?” I run the back of my knuckles from her cheek, down the delicate column of her throat and across the swell of her tits. “How pure are you, honeybee? Has anyone touched you here?”

She shifts, but there is nowhere for her to go, no space for her to retreat.

I trace the trail I want to lick down her flat belly and across her hips, skimming her pussy, through the thin fabric of her dress. “Has anyone tasted you?”

White, even teeth dent her plush lower lip as she tries to suppress a shudder.

“Did some pencil-dicked boy grope at you, fumbling his way across your luscious body? Whispering promises he could make you feel good but failing miserably? Is that why you’re so pristine?”

I reach inside the slit of her wrap dress and graze the useless scrap of cotton. Her panties are soaking wet. The more I talk and taunt her, digging at her obvious lack of experience, the harder my dick gets. The more I want that first taste all to myself.

I push the crotch of her panties to the side and slide my fingers through her silky, wet heat, gathering the undeniable proof that she’s aroused. That on at least the basest level, she wants me.

I move my free hand to cup her tit, dragging my thumb across her peaked nipple.

Eyes hooded.

Lips pursed.

“Christophe, please.”

“Please what?”

“Stop.”

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