Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 28598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 143(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 143(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
I take her chin in my hand, turning her face back to me. “I didn’t think I had to. I expected you would say something. I would’ve been gentler with you if I had known you were a virgin.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Damn it, don’t apologize.” I don’t know why this is making my chest tighten the way it is. Why I’m angry.
She flinches but doesn’t say anything. There’s pain in her eyes, though. I hate myself for putting it there. “You don’t have to apologize,” I tell her again, softer this time. “I want you to speak up for yourself. You don’t have to stay quiet when there’s something you want or need. And if we’re in my bed, naked, and I’m between your legs? Tell me if I’m hurting you because, Madison, I can’t control myself when it comes to you. I just can’t.”
She snuggles up against my chest with nothing but a soft sigh, and that’s good. This is where she belongs.
With me. Her first and only. I have to admit, knowing I was her first makes my cock stir all over again. She’ll never know what it means to go unsatisfied because I intend to wear that tight little pussy out every day for the rest of our lives. I’ll be the only man she ever knows. My cock will be the only one she ever sucks. And my name will be the only one she ever screams as she comes over and over.
God, I can’t wait.
9
Madison
What am I thinking?
That’s the question I keep asking myself as I lie here in Archer’s arms, drifting in and out of sleep as the day continues outside the window. For once, I don’t care. I’m not in a hurry. I’m not thinking about my next shift or my tips. Just this. Only this.
What am I doing here? What am I thinking, giving my virginity to somebody I barely know? Somebody who, honestly, still sort of scares me a little.
Much less than before, though. There are two sides to him. The violent side I saw when we first met—no way I can forget about that, not a chance.
But there’s another side. A softer side. Gentle. Protective. Nobody’s ever wanted to protect me before. Nobody’s ever asked for nothing but me. Yet that’s all he wants. At least, that’s what he says.
I never say anything I don’t mean. I think I want him to mean it when he says he only wants me, nothing more. Even if I don’t quite understand how that’s possible. What’s so special about me? Nothing.
Yet here he is. Here I am with his heart beating under my ear.
“Can I ask you something?” He’s been quiet for so long, his voice makes me jump.
“Sure.”
“How’d you end up where you were? Living that way, working so hard?”
Past tense. He’s serious about wanting me to move on from the life he found me living. I still don’t know how to feel about that. For now, I’ll answer as truthfully as I can. “I lost my parents when I was little. I don’t remember them very much. I spent the rest of my life in foster care, going from one home to another, never staying long enough to actually bond with someone. I aged out of the system when I turned eighteen. You’ve seen the rest.”
He’s quiet for a minute, stroking my hair while he’s thinking. When he’s like this, I feel as if I can tell him anything and he’d understand. “It’s been really hard. You’re the first person who’s ever heard me say those words. I barely finished school—not because I didn’t like it or wasn’t any good at it. But I was in and out of so many schools, it was tough to keep up. I’ve never admitted that to anybody, either.”
“Then, I’m honored.” He’s not smiling when he takes my chin and tilts my face toward his. “Seriously. I’m honored that you trust me with that.”
I do trust him. As hard as it is to believe. I trust that I can tell him things. I trust he won’t hurt me. That doesn’t mean I’m totally off my guard, but I’m finding it easier to open up. To relax against him when I know, I can trust his hand won’t turn to a fist, that the arm around me won’t squeeze too hard.
“What about ballet? You seem to love that.”
“I do.” I feel myself warming up, smiling without even meaning to. All I have to do is think about dancing, and that’s how I respond. “It’s what I love more than anything else. I think I would die if I ever had to stop dancing.”
“I’ve never had anything in my life that meant half as much to me as ballet means to you. When I watched you and saw your smile? The way you glow? It took my breath away. I was even a little jealous, I guess.”