Four Seconds to Lose (Ten Tiny Breaths #3)(73)
I’ve never tasted that. I’ve had guys go down on me before, but it felt like required foreplay before sex; it wasn’t done half as well, and never to orgasm.
I’ve never orgasmed with a guy. Period. Though I don’t think it’s all that surprising; I am only eighteen. I’m getting the impression that I could experience just about everything with Cain if I had more time.
Sliding a hand beneath my shoulders, Cain pulls me up and onto his lap again, his erection digging into me, making it abundantly clear what he wants. What I’m willing to give him. As he leans forward to pull his wallet from his back pocket, my mouth affixes itself to the side of his neck—to that sensitive spot where the tattoo is—and my eager fingers work the buttons of his shirt to reveal the sculpted body beneath it. I’ve been dying to touch it again since that day in my old apartment. Now, I marvel at how hot his skin is as I press my own bare chest up against it.
When I hear the tear of the foil packet, I decide to help him out by pulling him out of his briefs, my warm hands quickly wrapping around his length to begin stroking.“Easy, Charlie. I’m about to explode,” he growls as he lifts me up on my knees again. As he quickly frees himself of his pants by tugging them down past his thighs, I eagerly wait while he slides a condom on.
The agile, forceful Cain returns, grabbing my hips and moving them into position over him. He doesn’t ask if I’m sure anymore. He doesn’t ask if I’m nervous. He simply locks eyes with me as he pushes himself inside me smoothly—stretching me, filling me completely. He’s almost too much for me and I have to breathe through the pressure.
When he’s buried deep inside me, he stops moving and pulls me to his mouth, catching my gasp with his lips, stealing my air, my thoughts, my everything.
And then we begin moving against each other.
It’s a slow cadence at first, his hands gripping my hips to dictate the speed he wants. I’m fine with slow because I’m still sensitive, and having him inside me is just plain overwhelming.
It doesn’t take long for my body to accept him, though, and when it does, our momentum quickly accelerates, his thrusts becoming harder, his kisses hungrier, his size inside me swelling even more.
I finally break away from his mouth and push his hands away from my hip, locking eyes with him as I offer him a teasing smile as I take control of the rhythm, my own strong leg muscles working for him. He leans back, his lips parted, watching my body move beneath hooded eyes. His hand finds its way back and I’m about to swat it again, until I realize it’s not there to dictate my movements. It’s there to make sure I’m getting full pleasure from this as well.
“Charlie . . .” I hear the name in his whisper, the desire in it, and I truly wish it were my name he was calling out. Reaching up with his free hand, he curls his fingers around the back of my neck. He tugs my tongue into his mouth in a demanding kiss, smothering a deep moan as I feel his body stiffen, as I feel him pulsing inside me.
I did that for Cain. Me. I turned him on that much. That realization tears a second orgasm out of me almost instantly and I can’t help but cry out.
Not until his hips stop and his breathing slows to a heavy pant do our lips break free of each other. I curl my naked body—coated with a thin sheen of sweat now—into his chest, with him still inside me. Large, strong arms wrap me and I feel his lips pressed against my forehead. He makes no move to pull out, seemingly content to stay right where he is.
I marvel at this new version of Cain I have discovered. He’s not the hard, aggressive man that I’ve fantasized about. He’s not the emotional Cain I experienced last night.
He’s aggressive and emotional. He’s the best of both worlds. A guy I will crave incessantly when I’m gone.
“I promise, next time will be in a comfortable bed, Charlie,” I hear him murmur softly. I fight to keep my body from tensing at his words but I can’t, and I’m sure he feels it. Letting my mouth fall open against his neck, I greedily accept that I want a next time. I want it desperately. I want it now.
It was probably a mistake to let this happen.
The beginnings of dawn light the sky as Cain walks me to my apartment door. He casually suggested going back to his condo but I declined, barely able to get the excuses past the stabbing lump in my throat.
I have a dentist’s appointment.
I need to go grocery shopping.
I need to take my SUV in.
Lies. All lies.
He didn’t push, though, and I don’t know if it’s because the suggestion was not meant to be serious or because he took my excuses as a refusal of him. Or because he truly can tell when I’m lying to him and it pisses him off.
The car ride home was unusually silent and, as exhausted as I am after not sleeping for two days, as sated as I am, I almost fell asleep. If not for that sickness churning inside me the moment I pulled my dress on at the pier, I might have.
As I slide my key into the lock and push the door open, I sense Cain’s body step closer to me and I’m afraid he’s going to invite himself into my apartment. Afraid because I’ll have to send him away. Afraid because I would so much rather hold him close.
“Charlie?”
I grit my teeth for just a moment before I pull on a mask. Or try to. My adrenaline has finally worn off, leaving an empty shell of a girl who has experienced too many crippling emotions in the past thirty-six hours—both the best and the worst. I can’t even think straight. Thankfully, I’m too tired to cry; otherwise I’d be bawling my eyes out now.