“I want to have sex.”
Owen’s eyes darkened as his hands tightened around my feet.
“I know you probably have more experience and know what you’re doing, but I—”
“It’s okay, baby,” he inserted softly, and I had to remind myself this couldn’t be anything more than it was. Owen wasn’t ever going to stay here, and I was going to have to move on eventually.
“This is just sex, Owen. No feelings.”
The corners of his eyes creased, and his lips pursed.
“No promises, cricket. You’ve already branded me.”
“What does that even mean?”
“I’ll tell you later. Now, be a good girl and let me make you come.”
Worried he took my claims of inexperience as nothing more than having one or two partners, I reached for his wrist.
“I’m a virgin, Owen. I don’t know how to do any of th—”
Before I could finish speaking, Owen crawled over my body, reached a hand under my neck, and sealed my mouth with a kiss. My body craved more when he pulled back.
“You’re perfect, Aspen. You’ll be perfect.” He lingered over me, and we locked eyes. A softness replaced the lustful gaze from earlier, one a man would have toward someone he loved.
My stomach clenched at the thought.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
Without hesitation, I nodded, because I knew without a doubt that I wanted Owen to be my first. I wondered what sixteen-year-old me would think of this revelation.
Owen slipped off the couch and hoisted me into his arms, carrying me to the bedroom. With an unfamiliar gentleness, he laid me on the bed. His clothes fell in a heap on the floor while I laid in my birthday suit, watching in awe. I didn’t think I’d ever grow tired of looking at his body. It was a work of art.
“You keep looking at me like that and this will be over too fast.”
I chuckled as I leaned up on my elbows while he moved around the bed. The frame creaked as he climbed in beside me. Reaching over, Owen slid his hand through my long hair, resting his palm on the back of my head and lightly pulling my face toward his.
Our kisses grew frenzied and hands wildly stroked bare skin. It was both too much and not enough at the same time.
Owen rested on his back, tugging me on top of him. Something about the position made what I was about to do all too real, and my body began to shake.
Immediately, he sensed that something shifted. “Nervous?”
“A little.”
“You’ll be okay, cricket. I’ll take care of you. But you know we don’t have to do anything, right? I’m happy just being here with you.”
“But what if I do it wrong?”
“I can tell you with 100-percent certainty that there is nothing you could do wrong. Plus, right now, I just want you to focus on you. Let me finally make you come.”
Owen slipped his hand between my legs, running his finger back and forth along my wet slit. It was already coated in my arousal but grew wetter with each pass.
My breaths became pants as he continued on, swirling around my clit until I was a quivering mess. Against his lips, I cried out as I jerked, my orgasm crashing over me like a tidal wave.
“God, you’re gorgeous when you come,” he said as I bit my bottom lip to hold back my whimper when he pulled his hand free.
I may have been sensitive, but I wanted more. Yearned for it.
Softly, Owen rolled us on the mattress until I was on my back and his face was between my legs. He lapped at the wetness, murmuring to himself how much he enjoyed feasting on me. I could just be listening to his deep voice as he read a restaurant menu, and I’d still probably soak my panties.
Lost in my own thoughts, I hadn’t noticed Owen pull back and slip a condom onto his cock. The large erection pointed toward me like a locked-in missile as he leaned over me.
My body tensed, feeling the tip of his dick poised at my entrance, but instead of pressing inside, he rocked against my pussy, spreading my wetness over his shaft.
“You’re beautiful, Aspen,” Owen whispered in my ear as he reached down and adjusted his rod. “It’ll hurt at first, but I promise to make it go away.”
Instinctively, I reached my hands around his back, holding him close. The mushroom head pushed inside my channel, and Owen came to a stop.
“You’re so fucking tight, cricket.” His words were clipped, as if he was hanging on by the thinnest of threads. The fullness I felt escaped as Owen rocked back. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
I wondered what he meant, but then as he thrust inside, all my thoughts evaporated as I felt the first stinging pinch of pain.
Tears pooled along my lids, with a few escaping the corners of my eyes. I’m not sure what I’d been expecting, but the overwhelming bite nearing agony wasn’t it.
Why did people do this to themselves?
Without moving an inch, Owen rested on his elbows by my head and swiped at my fallen tears.
