Page 43 of Your Fault

She stopped and looked at me with concern.

“Quit,” I said before she could utter a word. “In five minutes, I’m going to be making love to you. Don’t waste your energy on words.”

She obeyed. I could tell she was dying to do it, just as I was. She seemed to hesitate for a moment, but it was evident that there was no turning back. But she didn’t go to the bedroom. She took my hand and forced me back on the sofa.

“What are you doing?” I asked, more turned on than I’d ever been.

“We’re going to do it my way.”

Her feline eyes glimmered with desire.

“The only way you know how to do it is the way I’ve taught you, Freckles.”

She straddled me, tossing her hair back over her shoulder. “I’ve been to France. I’ve learned all kind of things.”

I scowled. I didn’t like that comment one bit.

“Don’t be an idiot,” she said, pulling off her bra. The sight of her breasts made me lose the thread of my thoughts. “Now, you’re going to hold very still.”

17

Noah

I didn’t want to hurt him, but I needed it, too. I wanted to feel his hands, his expert fingers, to be kissed by him all over, in all the places he wasn’t supposed to do it. For him to make me his and to forget every other girl he’s been with.

“This will be the only time you’re ever going to be in control, so enjoy it,” he said condescendingly. But he was turned on. I could feel him underneath me, hard as a stone.

“We’ll see about that,” I said to him, bending over to kiss his jawline. I wanted to try to avoid his lips—I didn’t want to hurt him—but it would be hard. I hated being cautious when what I wanted was to make love freely; I wanted him to dominate me with his body, the way I liked, to pick me up, to let our skin touch and give us pleasure, not pain. But at the same time, having total power over him was very exciting, too.

My tongue drifted over his stubble to his right ear. He smelled so good. Like Nick. Like a man.

He took hold of my breasts, and I almost yelped when he squeezed me tight.

I moved my hands down to his stomach. That body was awork of art, a sculpture! My fingertips felt the muscle beneath his warm skin. I wanted to kiss every inch of him. Stopping at his pants, I smiled, watching him quiver as I nibbled at his neck.

“Don’t be mean, Freckles. I won’t wait much longer,” he warned me, grabbing me around the waist. I stopped him before he did what I knew he would.

“Unless I remember wrong, there was something you wanted me to do,” I said, hoping to fluster him, desiring to see him lose control of himself. But he stared at me firmly.

“Not today, Freckles,” he said, clearly struggling to get the words out.

I unbuttoned the top button on his pants.

“Why not?”

He completely lost control of his breathing.

I pulled his pants all the way down and started slowly stroking his body. He closed his eyes. I knew he wouldn’t last long. We hadn’t done it in a month.

“Because if you do, I’m not going to let you leave.”

When I heard those words, I stopped, trying to regain control of the situation.

He bent over, and at the same time, a diabolic smile appeared on his face.

“Better do what I say,” he told me, and he tugged down my underwear, leaving me completely naked.

His eyes were drilling into every centimeter of me, and I was happy I had gotten over the shame I used to feel at first. There’s nothing like trusting a person fully, showing them all your insecurities, seeing that they don’t only accept them—they adore them.

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