Page 30 of First Time

My well ran dry a lot sooner than I expected, but I didn’t move from the security of his arms.

“I’m so tired.” My voice quaked as I pressed deeper into his hold.

“Sleep.”

I breathed him in, filling my lungs, and giving over to the exhaustion pulling on me from every side.

Chapter 13

Daniel

Our time of aftercare had been cut short with traumatic bluntness. I had known Becky would pass the fuck out once feeling safe enough, and rather than moving into a more comfortable position with us both lounging on the couch, I sat still.

Breathing her in.

Touching whatever smooth skin I could reach in a nonsexual way.

Fighting off arousal.

She had climaxed with enough force to snap tension through my ropes—and desperate lust in my balls. They ached, but at least my cock had simmered down to a semi-state of restlessness. I couldn’t relive the memory of her flesh being bound, the sight of slickness between her thighs, or the scent of her sweet cream in my nose and on my tongue from when I’d licked my fingers.

Fuck.

Grimacing, I couldn’t not shift in my seat.

Becky didn’t so much as twitch.

A steady exhale deflated my lungs but not my dick. I had to extract myself from the cuddle position or I was going to lose my ever loving fucking mind…but I didn’t wish to disturb Becky.

Teeth gritted to keep curses from spilling, I slowly slid from beneath her body and stood, stretching out stiff muscles.

She lay curled on the couch, her face peaceful in sleep.

She was so goddamned beautiful. Deserved the fucking world for all the shit she’d been dealing with in her life for however many years it had been since Stephen had started the abuse.

I pushed against the violence attempting to rise and tense me up again. Focusing on her comfort and safety, I bent, weaseled my arms beneath her slumbering form, and gently lifted her into my chest.

Heavy breaths continued to escape her parted lips as she hung limp in my hold.

Fuck, she felt good. I wanted to squeeze all her soft flesh. Touch. Lick—

Goddamnit.

Inwardly cursing at myself, I made my way through the short hallway to Chantelle’s guest room, which I assumed was the smaller of the two bedrooms. I sat on the edge of the queen-sized bed for balance and reached over to the other to draw back the blankets and top sheet on the opposite side. Cradling Becky once more against me, I straightened, rounded the foot of the bed, and laid her down.

A shuddering sigh rippled through Becky as she rolled on her side, slipping a hand beneath the pillow.

Those damn slipper-like shoes still clung to her feet. She should have better shoes on for the bitter spring weather. Lips in a tight line, I slid the thin things off and set them on the floor. My hands cradled one ankle before I realized I’d reached to touch her again.

My fingers slid downward, noting the sole and pads of her toes were just as soft as the rest of her.

Given the chance, I would massage her arches. Ease soreness or plain old weary muscles from standing all day. I set her foot back on the mattress.

Satisfaction over helping her find peace at least for one night, I tucked her in and stepped back. Dark hair spilled over the white sheets, and equally black eyelashes feathered over the pale skin of her cheeks. Her red lips parted in sleep.

Give Becky blue eyes, and she would have been Snow White come to life. Not as willowy as the cartoon, but I preferred women with full curves. Flesh to bind and hold onto. Softness to lose myself in.

Inwardly cursing yet again, I rubbed a hand over my face before turning away to lower the dimmers. Only a bit of streetlight filtered around through the blinds, keeping me from full blindness.

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