He gave me more, faster, harder, oh yes, amazing.
Chace tore his mouth from mine, buried his face in my neck and I heard both of our heavy breaths as he groaned into my skin, “Jesus, f**k, so sleek, so tight, f**kin’, f**kin’ beautiful.”
“Honey,” I breathed, the word hitched in the middle because his thrusts had increased in power and were jolting my body. My hand not at his behind slid up his spine, into his hair and fisted in an effort to hold on.
I gave another hitched breath, this one for a different reason and I continued to receive Chace’s thrusts but his forearm went out of the bed so I also took his weight. His hand went to mine at his behind, his fingers curling around my wrist, he pulled it away, up, slid his hand into mine, laced our fingers then, still thrusting, he planted his forearm back into the bed but holding my hand.
Holding my hand.
Holding my hand.
Hard. Tight. Fingers laced.
Like he’d never let go.
Suddenly, like a shot, it hit me, my legs and arms tensed and I cried out as I came again. Not harder, not longer but for some reason way, way sweeter.
When I came down, his thumb was gone, his arm shoved under me, his hand curled around the back of my neck and his mouth came to mine as he kept thrusting, deeper, deeper, God, I loved having him inside me.
Then his h*ps bucked into mine, stayed planted, he groaned into my mouth and I loved that even more.
Nearly instantly, his lips left mine, slid across my cheek and I heard his labored breathing in my ear as I felt mine even out.
We were lying in the dark in the middle of night but everything about that moment I felt with a clarity I’d never had before.
Everything.
His weight on me, our bodies connected, his hand warm at my neck, fingers wrapped firm around the back, our fingers laced in the bed, his breath sounding in my ear, drifting across my skin, his weight on me, his thick, soft hair in my hand, my legs wrapped around him.
I hoped I never forgot that, any of it, not any of it, for the rest of my life.
I’d given Chace Keaton my virginity like I decided I wanted to do at the age of sixteen.
He took it and, before, gave me two orgasms and during, gave me another one.
And when I had mine and he had his, he held my hand.
Overwhelmed by all of it, the beauty of it, having what I’d dreamed of for years, having it be better than my dreams in a big way, the tears hit the backs of my eyes. I didn’t even try to stop my mouth when my head turned so I could find his ear.
“When I was sixteen, I saw you and when I did, I was young, romantic, and it might sound stupid but the minute I saw you, I knew I wanted to give that to you. I knew it was only you. I waited thirteen years, honey. It was worth the wait.”
His body stilled over mine and my heart clenched.
Oh frak, that was too much.
Oh frak! Maybe the first time couples did it, they didn’t share deep, romantic secrets.
Frak!
His hand slid from my neck as I tensed, uncertain what do, unable to escape him seeing as he was on me and in me. I had nowhere to go and no hope of getting there even if I had somewhere to go.
His body shifted slightly then the light came on.
I blinked at the sudden brightness.
Then I focused.
When I did, I stared.
The tears pooled in my eyes instantly at what I saw and mere moments later, slid out the sides.
Because his eyes were gazing in mine. His beautiful blue eyes, in his handsome face, on top of his amazing body. The eyes of a man who was all man.
And they were wet.
Oh my fraking God.
His hand came to my jaw, cupping it, his thumb sweeping across my cheekbone but he didn’t watch his thumb. His eyes never left mine and he didn’t hide it, he didn’t fight it.
I gave him my virginity.
He gave that to me.
It was the most beautiful gift I’d ever received.
Then he whispered, “I wanna see to you. Will you let me do that, Faye?”
I’d let him do anything.
Anything.
Even though I had no idea what he was talking about.
“Yes,” I answered.
His head dropped and, his lips on mine, he whispered, “Thank you.”
Then he touched his mouth to mine, gently, slowly slid out and he saw to me.
This being, he rolled out of bed, carefully gathering me in his arms and taking me with him. He then carried me to the bathroom and set my booty on the vanity counter. It was dark, only the light from the bedroom lighting the space. I saw his semi-shadow moving around as he turned on the taps of the tub. Then he moved to the little room that held the toilet, I heard it flush and he came back into the room.
The subdued light shown on his na**d body and I had my first glimpse of all that was Chace.
It was no less beautiful than my thirteen years of imagining made it out to be, broad shoulders, wide wall of chest, defined collarbone, muscled thighs, ridged abs, slim hips, cut hipbones.
But the sexy sprinkling of chest hair that spread out under his collarbone, over his pectorals, ribs, belly and led to the thicker hair above and around his beautiful c**k was a bonus I didn’t expect.
He stopped in front of me at the basin, gently pulled my nightie from under my booty and I held my breath as I lifted my arms and he tugged it off.
Before I could be embarrassed about being na**d in front of him, he lifted me in his arms again and set me on my feet beside the tub. Then he guided me and we climbed and settled in together, Chace behind me, his legs surrounding me, knees bent, me reclining between them back against his chest as the tub filled with hot, soothing water.
“Just relax, Faye,” he urged gently, his arms circling me, one at my ribs, one at my chest.
“Okay,” I whispered and it wasn’t a lie. It was impossible not to relax in that shadowed room, in that hot water with Chace all around me after having two orgasms.
“You’re beautiful, baby,” he said softly in my ear, one of his hands gliding over my belly. I suspected, through the shadows and over my shoulder, he was looking at me.
God, I hoped he thought so.
“Okay,” I repeated quietly, not as sure about that one.
“All mine,” he muttered. “Christ, finally, all mine.”
I closed my eyes, pulled in breath and relaxed deeper against his chest.
I felt him shift, his lips at my neck he kept muttering, “Thirteen years, all mine.”
That meant something, what I said to him. I knew it. Since after I said it, he showed me by making himself vulnerable to me, I knew it had to mean a lot.
But his words made me realize it meant a lot.
And that meant a lot to me.
I swallowed and turned my head toward his lips. They touched my forehead then his arms gave me a squeeze.