Rescuing the Bad Boy (Second Chance #2)(4)

His face contorted, almost painfully before acceptance flashed in his eyes. As if he’d made a decision to keep going—and why would he stop?—he slid out, then into her again—one smooth, delicious slide, filling her completely. Another gasp escaped her. He thrust again and again, his movements becoming less gentle, more hurried.

Better.

The pain began to recede. Her eyes fluttered closed and she savored him. Savored them, together.

He felt a hundred times better than when they’d started and a million times better than she’d imagined. He pushed her long hair away from her face and lowered his lips, propping himself on one forearm, keeping a palm pressed to her cheek.

He drove into her, kissing her as he did. Their tongues sparred and her stomach coiled, tension building…

“That’s it, baby.” He pushed into her again, deeper than before, and like flint to stone, she sparked.

Throwing her head back, she gripped his naked shoulders with the ends of her short nails and let out a raspy, “Donny.”

“Come for me, Scampi.” He continued winding her, so tight her hips lifted to meet his incessant thrusts.

Tingling. She was tingling everywhere.

“I…” She started to argue she couldn’t “come” on demand. But before she made the admission, he plunged into her again, and her body clutched, clamping down on him. Hands clasping him tightly, mouth falling open in stunned awe, a ragged moan escaped her throat.

Sparks flashed behind her eyelids as her toes curled, and Donny continued pumping into her, causing aftershocks to radiate through her limbs. He lost himself a moment later, his groans drowning out hers, his slick-with-sweat chest brushing against her sensitive nipples. One of his hands gripped her hip; the other held the back of the couch.

Sofie’s mind spun, her orgasm ebbing and leaving behind a pleasant sinking feeling.

Amazing.

Making love to Donny Pate was an incomparable high. As the sounds of her thundering heart and his broken breaths filled her ears, she became aware of the sensations in her body. The blood rushing through her veins, the pain-to-pleasure pulse between her legs, the happiness lifting her chest.

No matter what happened after tonight, she’d never, ever forget this moment. She opened her eyes to take in the man who’d yet to give her his weight. He held himself away from her and blew out a long, low breath. Their bodies barely touched, except for where they were joined.

She didn’t want him to get up—not yet. She wanted him closer. Wanted to wrap her arms around him and kiss him. Snuggle into him and talk about how good it felt to be with him like this.

Donny didn’t look interested in cuddling or kissing. Heavy lids narrowed over diamond-hard eyes.

“Forget to tell me something, Scampi?” His voice was low. Cold.

Her blood froze, chilled by his tone. No way could he know this was her first time…

Could he?

No. There was no way he could know.

“Scampi,” he repeated sternly.

She couldn’t tell him. Couldn’t. Speechless, she shook her head.

Elbows locked, he hovered over her, face growing angry in the silent seconds passing where she said nothing. She lost his warmth when he drew out of her, her body cooling when she lost contact.

The skirt of her dress was rucked up over her hips, her top taken to her waist, her panties… She had no idea where her panties were.

Oh God, I am one of those girls.

Donny stood, shadows slashing across his chest in the moonlit room, and pulled on a T-shirt, then bent and reached for his jeans.

Under his breath, he muttered, “A f*cking virgin.”

Every nerve ending in her body prickled. “H-how did you know?”

He tugged on his jeans and growled, “You’re so tight, I nearly broke it off in there.”

The insult hit the mark. She cringed.

“Get dressed. I’m taking you to your car.”

Dressed? No, she refused to accept tonight would end this badly.

“Can we… can we try again?” she asked, covering her breasts with the top of her dress. She felt so exposed.

He didn’t look at her, instead crossing the room and disposing of the condom in a small wastebasket.

“I don’t do virgins,” he stated, facing her and zipping his fly.

Okay. She took a deep breath and promised herself she wouldn’t cry even as her eyes stung and a lump formed in her throat. Another breath and she was able to rein in her frittering emotions.

He couldn’t end things now. She wouldn’t let him. First of all, it wasn’t nice. And second, this wasn’t the way first times were supposed to go. He was supposed to be gentle and accommodating. She was supposed to tell him he made her feel like no other man had before. She would remember tonight always, and he was in the process of ruining those memories. She didn’t expect perfect. Awkward was acceptable, but this?

This was awful.

Even though she was freezing, she dropped the material of her dress and pushed out her breasts. Donny’s eyes flickered over her bared skin, but his expression was as placid as before.

“Come on, baby.” She tried to purr, but her voice came out taut, nervous. Seduction wasn’t really her thing. The rest came out like a question. “Let’s try again?”

He ripped his eyes away, snatched his discarded sweater from a nearby chair, and jammed his arms into the sleeves. Leaning over her on the sofa he’d tenderly laid her on moments ago, there wasn’t a tender thing about him when he rumbled, “I’m not anyone’s baby, Scampi.” He straightened, pulled the sweater over his head, and added, “There’s not going to be a second time. Ever. Get dressed.”