Page 58 of Strangers in Love

I could say only one word. “Yes.”

As he leaned over me, I was struck once again at his sheer size, both literally and figuratively. Even if he’d been shorter, less muscular, he would have commanded attention when he walked into a room. While those same qualities in another man might have frightened me, all I felt when I looked at Eoin was a wanting so sharp, so poignant, that it made every part of me ache.

Without taking his gaze from my face, he settled between my legs, one hand balancing him over me, the other guiding his cock to the right place. I shivered as the tip of him brushed against my clit, and when he smiled, I knew he’d done it on purpose. He rubbed the head against me, slicking it before positioning it at my entrance.

“Oh…”

I breathed out as he pushed inside with one long, slow motion. The parts of me unaccustomed to stretching for something of his size protested at first, nerves signaling with small jolts of near-pain that reminded me of the way my muscles had felt when I’d started taking self-defense, conditioning them to move in ways they hadn’t before.

Then his thumb moved over my clit, and a shock of pleasure raced through every cell, radiating out from that most sensitive part of me to reach all parts of me. I shifted my hips, seeking more without any conscious thought. He groaned, his hand moving to grasp my hip, pulling me closer even though I didn’t think it was possible for us to be more joined than we already were.

“Fuck.” His head fell forward, eyes closed.

His body shook with the effort it took for him to maintain control, and along with my physical pleasure came a stab of pride. I had made this tough, magnificent man nearly come apart, and I had a feeling that wasn’t something that happened often.

“You feel so good.” He opened his eyes, and I caught a glimpse of surprise, as if he, too, hadn’t expected it to be quite like this.

“You too.” My voice was strained, every bit of me waiting for what he would do next.

“Not too much?”

I shook my head, not trusting myself to simply answer the question. It was too much, but not in the way he meant. He didn’t need the burden of knowing how overwhelmed I felt right now. I had always promised myself that when I finally lost my virginity, I wouldn’t become caught up in expectations, either of what the experience itself would be like or what came after. But this had been so sudden, I hadn’t told him any of this, so if I confessed that this was my first time, he’d have no way of understanding that I wasn’t going to hold him to any unspoken promises.

Then he drew back, and all the little thoughts flying about in my head froze. He held himself there for a moment, just the first inch of him inside me, before surging forward, driving everything else from my mind and the air from my lungs. The ache was still there, but it mingled with all the other sensations brought about by each deep, deliberate stroke.

The coarse texture of the hair on his legs as it rubbed against the insides of my thighs.

The way his muscles bunched and moved under my hands as my palms moved up his sides and over his back, across his broad shoulders, and then down again.

My small whimpers and moans of pleasure somehow matching his harsh breathing and low groans.

The give and take as we moved together, a point and counterpoint that reminded me of a dance. It was that, I supposed, in its way. The oldest dance, something ancient and primal that connected the very core of our being.

I called out his name as I came, my nails digging into his sides, my muscles contracting. With a hoarse cry, he slammed into me twice, each one hard enough to send another bolt of painful pleasure through me, and then he came. Our bodies froze, joined as intimately as two people could be, and everything seemed to stop for the length of two heartbeats before time crashed back into us.

He dropped, turning slightly to keep from landing on me, and his arms went around me, pulling me to him. I could sleep now, I knew. Not just because he’d helped me clear my head, but because I felt utterly and completely safe in his arms.

* * *

I hadn’t dreamed.

That was the first thing I realized when I woke up. The second was that someone was in bed with me. A bed that wasn’t mine. In a room that wasn’t mine, but also wasn’t where I’d woken up the last several days.

The body next to me in the bed moved, a hand brushing against my bare shoulder, and the touch brought everything crashing back to me.

My rescue.

Yelling at Eoin for not saving the others.

My nightmare.

Eoin waking me up.

The first kiss.

The second.

Everything that’d followed.

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