A Million Kisses in Your Lifetime (Lancaster Prep )(107)

I feel incredibly full. Like I can’t even move—and neither can he. I’m scared it’ll hurt, and maybe he won’t care. Maybe he’ll become too wrapped up in his own pleasure that he won’t pay attention to me.

“You’re so tight.” He curls his arm around the top of my head, his fingers playing softly with my hair. His gaze is tender as he studies me, but I see the strain bracketing his mouth. He’s holding himself back. For me. “I’m afraid if I move too fast, I’ll come.”

“Be careful with me,” I whisper, because that’s what I need. If he was to ram himself deep, I might cry.

He does as I ask, pulling out before he pushes back inside. I try to move with him, awkward as can be, becoming frustrated though I know it all takes time to learn. He’s patient with me, his hand falling to my hip, guiding me, and after a few minutes of false starts and stuttering stops, we’re moving together.

Slowly.

Smoothly.

I’m still not fully comfortable. He still feels thick inside me, but the more he moves, the easier it gets. The looser I become. The bed springs creak rhythmically with our movement, the squeaky sound filling the room and making me smile.

“Why are you smiling?” He pauses, dipping his head to kiss me.

“I don’t know.” I loop my arms around his neck. “I’m happy.”

I am. I’m so happy with Crew. Knowing he’s my first. I never thought this would happen. Not this fast. Not like this. Certainly not with him.

His smile is sweet, unlike any smile he’s ever given me before. And then he buries his face in my neck, his breath hot against my skin as he picks up the pace. Pumping himself inside my body, the slow drag of his erection in and out starting a fresh wave of tingles washing over me.

I clutch him closer, his heart racing against mine, our mouths finding each other, tongues thrusting. The kiss is filthy. Sloppy. He’s lost all control and I’m encouraging it. Encouraging him.

“Oh fuck,” he whispers against my throat, bucking against me, his cock buried deep. His body goes tense, a choked groan falling from his lips just before the shivers take over.

He’s coming. And all I can do is hold on to him, witnessing this miracle. It’s mesmerizing to watch him, knowing that not many have seen him look like this. I squeeze my inner walls around him, causing a strangled sound to leave him, and he collapses on top of me, his weight heavy and hot. His skin sweaty and sticking to mine.

“Jesus. I’m sorry. That happened way too fast.” He’s breathing hard, his heart racing, I can feel it.

“Don’t apologize.” I drift my fingers up and down his wide back, tracing his shoulder blades. “It felt good.”

“Did you come? You didn’t.” His voice is flat, his disappointment palpable.

“I came twice already,” I remind him, kissing his forehead. I can’t stop touching him. I love having him lie on me like this, as if he owns me. It all feels so perfect.

He feels like mine.

Crew is about to pull out of my body, but I hold him to me, keeping him in place with my hand on his butt. Good lord, his muscles are hard.

“Can we do it again?” I ask hopefully.

He smiles, his mouth finding mine as he murmurs, “Hell yeah.”





FORTY-ONE





WREN





I think I have a problem.

Pretty sure I’m falling in love with Crew Lancaster.

Maybe it isn’t love. Maybe it’s just a serious case of infatuation that’s perfectly natural, considering he’s the one who took my virginity. He’s very important to me. The one boy I can never, ever forget. The one who I will remember until I’m an old lady on my death bed, my memories running through my mind, filtered, altered. Broken.

Except for that one boy. The one who I had sex with for the first time.

The rest of Saturday night is a haze. After round two, where we both made sure we came, he cuddled me close as we dozed off. We slept in each other’s arms, and when I woke up Sunday morning, he was tucked up behind me, hard and poking me in the butt, his fingers between my legs, touching my sore, sensitive skin.

He still made me come, and I returned the favor before we took showers and got ready to leave. We had breakfast and couldn’t linger for long. The plane was ready to take us back to Lancaster Prep.

Back to reality.





Once we returned to campus, I went to my room, collapsing into bed and sleeping the afternoon away. I only woke up to my phone buzzing, the room already dark since it was after five.

It was my father, checking in on me and asking about my trip. I lied about the fine details and got him off the phone quickly, grabbing the cookie out of my duffel bag that I got at the bakery yesterday afternoon and devouring it before I fell back into bed.

Now it’s Monday morning and another school day is about to start. At least it’s a shortened day—all week we get out at twelve-thirty because of the finals’ schedule. Today is first and sixth period, so we get to kick it off with Figueroa.

God, I don’t want to face him, knowing what he’s done. Will he even be there, or did they already arrest him?

I take a shower and blow dry my hair. Get dressed in my uniform. Tie my hair back with the ribbon, remembering what Crew said. How he wants to tie my wrists together with it one day.