Page 90 of Forbidden Confessions: Vol. 2
Traces of blood cover his torso, along with a littering of scars over the hard-cut muscles that make Ransom look like he’s been forged in steel.
He flips on the hot tap at the sink, then opens the cabinet doors until he finds a washcloth.
“You don’t have to clean up now,” I assure him.
“Yes, I do. I want this to be right. I want this to be the last first time either of us ever has. And I won’t come to you dirty and bloody.”
Like a criminal?
I’ll worry about that later. Here and now is what’s important, and his words warm me. He’s in love with me. He’s saying he wants this to be the last time either of us takes a new lover. It’s sweet, but…
He doesn’t know it’s my first time?
When I turn to admit I’m a virgin, I get caught up in watching that little white cloth slide across his broad, bulging chest. He wipes away grime, rinses the rag, wrings it with massive hands, veins standing out and ripped. Every movement is strong and sure. Confident.
Will he touch me that way?
Our eyes meet in the mirror, and I know the answer.
Yes, he will.
With a final rinse, he tosses the rag on the counter, then brings my body against his. “Last chance, baby.”
To back out? “I’m saying yes.”
I’m always going to say yes to him.
His eyes soften, then he bends and lifts me, carrying me against his chest as he flips off the light with his elbow, plunging us back into shadows.
Inside the bedroom, moonlight filters through the windows as he lays me across the silky gray comforter. With a swipe of his hand, he sends the decorative pillows to the floor. With the other, he flips on the soft light of the nearby lamp. Then he crawls onto the bed, hovering over me, and looks into my eyes. “I’m going to make tonight so good for you, baby girl.”
“You already have.” I smile, fingering my pendant.
He cups my face, dips his head, and finally…finally covers my lips with his.
Ransom kisses me like he owns me. My body jolts with recognition, like it remembers its master. Like it’s forgotten every other boy who’s ever ineptly put his mouth on mine and glommed onto this man who’s going to be my everything.
I arch toward Ransom and open my lips, inviting him deeper. He slides his tongue against mine as he rocks his cock, still clad in denim, against the naked ache of my pussy, so acute now I wriggle and whine for more. I get lost in his big palm cupping my cheek, in the way he commands my mouth, in the hair-roughened press of his chest to mine.
Our kiss slides into forever. I heat and burn under his touch. The stubble on his hard jaw drags down my neck, paving the way for his hungry lips to take over. I’m a shuddering, trembling bundle of need as he rakes his mouth across my skin, laving my pressure points and nipping everywhere I’m sensitive while he works his way down to my nipples.
The second he sucks one between his lips, I forget time and place. Hell, I forget my name. All I can think of is the arousal he’s heaping on me and the suspicion I’ll never be the same once we leave this bed.
Ransom drags one point into his mouth, then the other, in deep, unhurried sucks I feel through my entire body, especially between my legs.
“Jesus, I’m never going to get enough of you,” he gasps out as he kisses his way down my body, laving the undersides of my breasts, tracing my ribs with his tongue, and circling my navel. Then he sinks to the floor beside the bed, yanks my hips to the edge, and parts the folds of my pussy with his thumbs, inhaling with a moan.
I’m so open to him. So vulnerable and exposed. I tremble. My hips roll in need.
“You’re pink and sweet.” He circles my engorged clit with a lip-bitingly patient finger. “Hmm…”
My breath hitches. Every touch pings through my body, down to my toes. The ache tightens.
I’m already so close.
“Ransom…” My voice sounds like a tortured, needy thing.
“Baby girl?”
