Page 105 of Shattered

“I want it to be good for you, too, but I might be bad at it.”

Callum laughed.

“Sam, you could flop around like a fish out of water and it would still be the best sex of my life.”

She wanted to laugh, but she was shaking again. Her whole body trembled under him. She just hoped he took that as excitement instead of nervous energy.

“Tell me what you like.” He nuzzled her neck and his hands slipped down to cup her breasts and then her ass.

She was breathless at his touch. “This. You.”

He laughed. “Good. I like you too. Very much. But tell me how you like to be touched.” His hand slid down to the apex of her thigh and skimmed over the front of her thong.

She froze.

“Sam?”

“Um…I don’t know.”

Fuck. He was going to ask.

Callum stopped his movements, pulling back to look her inthe eye and then scanned her entire body.

She initially felt nervous under his stare and turned her headto the side in order to avert his gaze. She instead found herself reflected in a nearby mirror hanging on the wall beside the bed. Her red curls were fanned out behind her, lit up in the light as if a golden crown laid atop her head. Her face was flushed and she could feel that her heartbeat was far too erratic. Her skin was a contradiction of goosebumps and shimmering sweat that had started to form. She was still mildly shaking.

Any other man might have assumed those were just the telltale signs of excited energy from being about to get laid. But, as usual, Callum somehow knew her far too well.

He slid back on his elbows to give her some space.

“Have you ever done this before?” he asked in a gentle voice.

She couldn’t answer.

“Sam?” He kissed her cheek then ran his thumb across her jaw. “Have you ever touched yourself?”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course I have.”

He smiled at her momentary frustration, then added, “Has anyone else ever touched you?”

“You’re touching me now.”

He cocked his head to the side in question. For just a second, he studied her face and she was desperate to know what thoughts were swirling through that head of his.

“Are you a virgin?”

She paused at his question. Mostly because she wasn’t exactly sure what the correct answer was.

She cringed as she said, “I hate that word.”

“What?” He furrowed his brow.

“Virginity isn’t some magical line that has to be crossed. It's just a made-up word used to oppress women and make men feel like they’re winning some coveted prize.”

His eyes widened. “I didn’t mean it like that.” He quickly clarified. “I just wanted to know if you had done this before.”

“Does it matter?”

“No.” His answer was immediate.

---