I look across from us, belatedly realizing that he’s positioned us in front of the large mirror. “Look at us,” I breathe. “Look at how good your hands look on my body.”
“I’m your guardian, birthday girl. This is so fucking wrong.”
I skate my hands down his arm to his hand. I spread my legs a little wider and tilt my hips and, god, the tips of his fingers slide into me. “It feels better because it’s wrong.” I press against the back of his hand and he slides his fingers a little deeper. Not deep enough, but doing this in half-measures feels particularly dirty.
“Devan?”
“Yeah,” he grits out.
I roll my hips, fucking his hand as much as he’ll allow. “I want to have sex so badly. Are you really going to trust that experience with some idiot boy?” I grab his other hand and bring it to one bared breast. “Wouldn’t it be better to have an older, more experienced man make sure it’s good for me?”
“Hazel.”
“No one has to know,” I whisper. I watch him watch me in the mirror. “No one has to know you’re my first. It will be our little secret.”
Chapter 9
I don’t really put must stock in virginity. I gave up religion when I lost my parents, but even if I hadn’t, I don’t think any gods out there really care about where or not I’ve had sex. The only ones who seem to care about purity are the people intent on controlling young women’s bodies. I don’t fuck with that nonsense.
I had sex for the first time right before I turned twenty. He was a nice guy who treated me with great care. I think he was more nervous than I was. We dated a few months and then went our separate ways with no hard feelings. So yeah, I don’t believe for a second that the first person you sleep with magically links you to them for the rest of your life.
But sitting here, playing out this fantasy with Devan, it feels particularly sexy to lean into those stereotypes, to put far more importance on my imaginary virginity than I ever did on the real thing.
Devan kisses my neck almost furiously. “I should take you to a bed. Should lay you down and touch you gently and treat you the way virgins should be treated.”
My breath catches in my throat. “But you’re not going to?” I sound far too hopeful, but I can’t help it. Yes, a little voice inside me chimes. Yes, make it dirtier. Treat me like your special little slut. The truth is that at nineteen, I would have laughed in his face if he tried to take care with me. I was still too raw and drunk on my newfound freedom, desperate for anything, anyone who would make me feel something and help me lose myself for a few hours.
“I should.” He shoves two fingers into me. “I’m supposed to take care of you.” He fucks me slowly with his fingers, and I’ve never been so grateful for a mirror before. I’m a visual person. I always have been. Seeing him touch me like this only adds to the pleasure of feeling it happen.
I will never be a woman who wants to fuck with the lights off.
“So take care of me.”
Devan keeps finger fucking methodically, working a little deeper each time. Then he adds a third finger. “Can’t believe no one’s had this pussy before,” he growls. “You feel so fucking good, so wet and tight.”
“You feel good, too.” I’m gasping, writhing around his touch, but he holds me too firmly to do anything but go at his pace. “I need more.”
“Need to go slow. Get you ready.”
I give a frustrated sound and reach behind me. Devan loosens his hold enough to allow me to undo his pants. All a game. Protest, protest, protest. But we both know the truth; we’re both dying to get him inside me properly. I free his cock and freeze. “You’re too big.” My trepidation isn’t entirely feigned. I’d forgotten for a moment. It’s going to take work to make him fit.
Devan shifts and pulls a small bottle out of his pocket. I frown at it in the dim light. “What is that?”
“Lube. It’ll help.” He guides me up a bit so he can rearrange his cock to a better angle.
I stare as he spreads lube over himself in economical movements. “You brought lube with you.”
“A last minute purchase.”
Ah. That makes more sense. Hauling condoms around makes more sense than hauling lube around, but then again, if someone is Devan’s size, maybe that’s something they need to have on hand. The thought might make me laugh if I wasn’t staring so hard at his cock. I swear he’s gotten bigger since I had him in my mouth.
He wraps one giant hand around my hip and uses the other to guide his cock to my entrance. “Go slow. You control the pace.”
I sink down slowly, stopping when just the head of him is inside me. Part of me wants to rush this, but we’re playing a game. “You’re too big.”
“Getting cold feet, birthday girl?” His grip tightens on my hip and he pulls me another inch down his length. I whimper. Devan works me another inch down his cock. God, he’s huge. The fit is uncomfortable, and if I didn’t like a little pain with my pleasure, it might be too much. “I should stop,” he growls. Another inch. “Tell me to stop.”
“Stop,” I say immediately. It comes out more like a question.
Devan meets my gaze in the mirror. I can clearly read his expression. Stop doesn’t mean stop. Red means stop. I give a little nod and he yanks me another inch down his cock. “I can’t stop. You feel too good. You can take a little
