Slipping my silk robe off my body, I tossed it to the floor. My lace bralette and matching panties might as well have been nothing with how naked I felt right now. Reed’s hands found the narrow curve of my waist, lazily, as if he was still half asleep. The sheer size of his palms made me feel small.
I rubbed myself against his broad chest. His body cut sharply, all marble and bold strokes. Everything about how he felt was unexpected. The toned abs and rough ridges that met my palms. The energy he radiated that vibrated around us like an earthquake.
I lowered my lips to his, and then he was on me, flipping me onto my back as he took over with an eagerness I’d hoped for but couldn’t anticipate.
“Took you long enough.”
His words sent anticipation spreading through my body like embers igniting a fire. His voice sounded deeper with lust, his groan like a man’s as I reached between us and stroked him.
Oh, god.
He wasn’t even wearing underwear.
Reed was bigger than my ex. I wasn’t quite sure he’d fit inside me, but my determination wouldn’t allow that to stop me. I stroked him again. My lips sought his, catching his cheek in the dark instead.
His day-old stubble scratched my chin, longer than I was used to seeing, but I hadn’t seen him since I’d left for winter vacation two weeks ago. I tried to kiss his lips. He didn’t let me. He grabbed both my wrists in one hand, held them hostage above my head with a single palm, and sucked on my nipples through my bralette.
“These feel bigger.” He licked the underside of my breast and whispered against the skin “Boob job?” His voice was so low, I almost convinced myself I hadn’t heard him right.
“Um… No?” I kept my voice even lower than his was, half mortified, hoping he wouldn’t be able to make out my words and would drop this line of questioning.
“Hmm…” he hummed against the curve of my neck, and I felt him speak against my skin, “I’m not doing period sex. Too messy.”
What the hell, Reed?
“I’m not on my period…”
“Not doing pregnant sex either.”
I was sure I hadn’t heard him right this time, but I wasn’t about to ask him to repeat that louder.
I stroked him again, hoping he’d shut up and stop ruining the moment. He thrust himself into my palm and bit down on my neck, sucking so hard it would leave a bruise. His movements were confident. Experienced. Like he knew precisely how to make my body come to life.
In all the years I’d pictured this moment, I’d never thought it’d be this feral, this instinctive, this good. I didn’t know if I’d done such a great job of convincing myself we were meant to be or if we really were fate, but it felt like destiny, like gratification, like three thousand jigsaw pieces finally coming together.
Reed’s other hand explored my body as if he knew exactly what to do with it. I whimpered when he tore my panties off, ripping them without a care. Pain lashed at the top of my ass where the panties had snapped off and bit my skin, but he didn’t give me a chance to dwell on it.
This.
This was better than all my fantasies of Reed put together. It was passion. It was lust. It was all the reassurance I needed to make taking the first step worth it. I felt his need for me, and it drove confidence into my body like nothing else could.
Reed’s fingers glided up my inner thigh and found me soaking, sliding inside with embarrassing ease. The adrenaline rushed to my head.
“I’ve wanted you for so long. You make me so wet. So, so wet. I’ve touched myself to you in the shower. In bed. In…”—I hesitated before admitting—“… my ex-boyfriend’s bed.”
He let out something like a laugh, a possessive half snarl that sent shock waves straight to my core. “Fuck your boyfriend.”
“Ex,” I corrected.
“Don’t care,” he said, his voice still groggy and different from sleep and lust.
He slid his finger out and pushed himself inside me. I bit my lower lip to hold back my moans, pressed my forehead against his shoulder, and closed my eyes, meeting each of his thrusts. One of his palms gripped my ass and squeezed while the other held my waist.
He flipped us, so I sat on top of him. I’d never done it this way, but I moved on instinct, grinding myself against his skin.
“Atta girl.” He leaned back against his pillow as I placed each of my palms on his chest and took over. “Ride my cock.”
His gruff voice was almost indistinguishable past the hoarse lust, so deep and different, his desire something I wanted to explore until I knew it just as well as I knew him.
“I’m close,” I gasped.
It felt deeper this way, like he reached a part of me I never knew existed and my body hinged on the brink of explosion. My fingers dug into the skin of his shoulders. Each of his hands met my waist.
I needed to mark him, to claim him as mine as I left bruises and scratches all over his chest, hoping I’d leave evidence that this happened, that this was real. That tomorrow, when we both woke up, I could look at him and call him mine.
Reed took over from below, meeting me with so much force, it rattled the bed, and I feared his parents would discover us.
“Oh, God.” I leaned forward, buried my head into his neck, and whispered against his sweat-stained skin, “I’m coming. I’m coming, Reed.”
He stumbled a moment, halting his thrusts, but I was too far gone to stop. I pushed myself down harder on him and came, clamping around his length, biting down on his shoulder to quiet my moans. He came with me, his tongue brushing the shell of my ear as he let out a harsh curse.
I’d been with other guys in the past, and they’d never made me come. Inexperienced teenagers, fumbling to clumsy completion compared to the sheer masculinity Reed fucked me with.
Maybe having feelings changed sex. A part of me considered that he felt better because I was in love with him and I’d never been in love with any other boys, but I dismissed the notion. The way Reed slid inside me, the way his hands explored my body, the way he knew exactly what angle to push into me…
It couldn’t be my head making it up.
We fit perfectly.
We settled into silence as I came down from bliss. Reed’s hand rested on my thigh, his fingers brushing the crease where my thigh and lips met until goosebumps lined my arms. I didn’t dare move, refusing to be the one that interrupted this.
Chaos ran laps around my body. I needed to figure out what this meant. Still a little hard, Reed pressed deeper inside me as he reached for the lamp on the nightstand, his breathing a ragged exertion I felt against my skin.
I blinked away the post-orgasm haze as the light flickered on. When my sight cleared and I finally got a look at him, I froze. Shock bulldozed into my body, nearly pushing me back had I not been gripping his flesh.
Black spots scattered across my vision, and for a second, I thought I’d faint—and it would still be less mortifying than this.
Anything would be less mortifying than this.
It was almost too much to process.
To make it worse, he was still inside me.
This wasn’t Reed Prescott.
This was a six-foot-two, hazel-eyed Adonis with short black hair and bedroom eyes that made you picture him naked if you looked long enough. Only he was actually naked and, I repeat, still. Inside. Me.