Too Late

His thumb presses into me and the sensation makes my legs tense so hard, I slide away from him. It doesn’t deter him. He just moves closer. Presses his mouth even harder to mine.

I’m shocked at the instinctual way my body begins to move against his hand. When I first do it, he groans, so I continue doing it.

I can feel the pressure of two of his fingers inside me as he presses them as far into me as he can reach. “Fuck,” he groans. “You’re so fucking tight, Sloan.”

His voice does things to me when it’s this deep and full of desire.

“I can’t fucking wait to be inside you.” His lips drag down my neck. “It’s killing me that I can’t fuck you right here. Right now.”

Jesus. I think I might like dirty talk. That surprises me, but hearing him talk about wanting me is making me want to give it to him. Just not yet. Definitely not tonight. We’re already going too fast, but he makes it seem perfectly okay.

“I want to taste you,” he whispers. “I want to climb under this fucking table and devour you.”

“Asa,” I whisper.

It’s all I can say, because I’m scared if I try to say any more than that, I’ll ruin the mood. I don’t think I can talk like him. The way he’s talking...

“Do you like this?” he asks.

“Yes.”

My words must be exactly what he wanted to hear, because the next thirty seconds go by in a blur. His tongue is devouring mine, his hand is touching me in just the right spot that I start to shake. To shudder. Tremors take over and I’m trying to scoot away from him because the sensation is too much, but he’s coming at me with even more force, drinking my moans up like the wine.

His fingers stay inside me, but his hand is still now as he pulls back to watch me recover from what he just did to me. His chest is heaving against mine and he’s somehow pressed against my thigh so hard, I can feel how hard he is through his jeans.

I wait until I’ve caught all my breaths before I’m able to find my voice. And then, for whatever reason, I choose to say, “What happens now?”

I say this mostly because I don’t know if I’m supposed to do something for him. Tit for tat. Return the favor. I feel like an idiot. Like a rejuvenated idiot.

He grins. “Now...we eat some fucking dessert.”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, his hand leaves me and the waiter rounds the corner. I sit up straight, attempting to hide the fact that my hair is a mess and I’m still panting.

The waiter pretends not to notice anything is amiss. I appreciate him for that. He places a plate of one huge slice of coconut cake in front of us, then sets two forks on the plate. “Enjoy your dessert,” he says.

Asa dips his finger...the one that was just inside me...into the coconut cake. I watch as he slides it into his mouth and sucks it. He slowly pulls his finger out of his mouth. “This is my new favorite flavor,” he says, smiling. “Coconut cake mixed with you.”

I blush.

He picks up his fork and then I pick up mine. I take a bite and smile.

I like him. He makes me feel...I don’t know. Good and dangerous. It may not be a good combination, but it’s nice right now. Here. Tonight. What’s the worst that could happen? I’m eighteen. It’s not like I’m going to spend my future with him.

“Spend the night with me,” he says, after swallowing a bite.

I don’t answer him.

I think about his request. I don’t really have a place to crash tonight. It’s already too late to catch a bus home and I’d feel bad showing up at any of my friend’s places so late.

“On one condition.”

He nods. “I promise I won’t ask you to do anything you don’t want to.”

I don’t even have to name the condition. He just laid it out for me. “Okay,” I say.

He puts his fork down and yells, “Check, please!”





We were kissing as we entered his house. I didn’t get a good look at it, but I glanced around enough to know that I’m not at all shocked by it. Based on the way he dresses and the car he drives, this house isn’t so out of line with his wallet. The only thing that seems odd is the fact that he owns it. He told me so on our way here.

He lifts me and carries me up the stairs, kissing me all the way to his bedroom. I told him on the ride over that I don’t think I’m ready to have sex yet. That I’ve already experienced more tonight than I can wrap my head around.

He assured me that wouldn’t happen—that we’d just kiss until we fell asleep. But I get the feeling he’s going to need something more than just simple making out.

I don’t know what. I’ve never given a guy a blow job before, so I feel like that’s even moving so much faster than I planned to in the next year. But I feel guilty. I’ve taken more than I’ve given tonight.

We’re in his bedroom now. His door slams shut and then I’m against it, him pressed against me. His hands are on my dress, lifting it over my head.

Holy shit.

Wasn’t expecting to be half-naked this quick.

Naturally, I go to cover myself, wrapping my arms in front of my bra. As soon as I do it, I feel stupid. But I just wasn’t expecting that.

He grabs my wrists and pulls them away. “I want to see you, Sloan,” he says, his voice gentle. He takes a step back and stares at me. Luckily, I washed a set of matching bra and panties before the date.

“Fuck,” he whispers, his eyes trailing slowly down my legs. “Are you positive you don’t want me inside you tonight?” He takes a step closer until his hands are on my panties, pushing them over my hips, down my legs.

It’s too fast.

“Asa,” I whisper. “Stop.”

My mind is still hazy from the wine, but even drunk, I know that the panties should stay on a little longer. Until I’m absolutely ready for them to come off.

Which may not even be tonight.

He slides up my body, stopping to kiss me in several different places. When he reaches my mouth, he whispers, “What’s wrong?”

I exhale and my breath comes out shaky. Nervous.

“It’s too much,” I tell him, pushing around him. “The whole night...I wasn’t prepared for all of this. I feel like...” I hold in my words until I can sort through and find the exact right ones. Asa is still facing the door as he blows out a slow, seemingly frustrated breath. ”I feel like you think I’m a different type of girl than I am,” I say. “But I’m not used to doing these things, Asa. I’m not experienced; I’m not comfortable like you are right now. You make me nervous. And it’s not your fault; I think you just assumed I was different than I am. Maybe...maybe you should just take me home.”

He’s facing me again, so I see it when he winces, like maybe I didn’t choose the right words. Hell, maybe I didn’t. I don’t know what I’m doing—what I’m saying. This whole night has been a huge reminder of just how different I am from him. How much more experience he has at life than me. And just because I let him get too far already doesn’t mean that’s his pass to go all the way.

I need to put the brakes on, no matter if that upsets him or not. That’s selfish of me in a way, I guess. But I can’t help that I suddenly feel uncomfortable. Being in a guy’s house I barely know. Staying the night with him.

I suspect there’s more of a chance of him reaching for his keys and rushing me home than there is of him engaging in a mature conversation about how getting my first kiss and losing my virginity on the same night may be too much, too soon.

He rakes a hand through his hair and then grips the back of his neck while he stares at me from across the room. Then, in a display of sheer determination, he walks swiftly toward me, grabbing my face and forcing me to look up at him.

“You think I don’t know what kind of girl you are?” His voice is quiet but firm as his gaze scrolls over my face. “I’ve been watching you in class for weeks, Sloan. I know exactly what kind of girl you are. I’ve studied you. I’ve admired you. And I’ve thought about you way too much. And lately—I’ve developed this idea that you’re exactly what’s missing from my life. You’re the type of girl I’ve dreamt about. You’re the type of girl I failed to believe existed for the majority of my life. But you’re real and...you’re so fucking special to me already. In my life...special things are difficult to come by. Real fucking difficult. You just might be the first special thing I’ve ever been this close to having all to myself. So if I’m coming on too strong or too fast, that’s why. It has nothing to do with my expectations of tonight. It has nothing to do with your inexperience. I can’t keep my hands off you because I’m scared to death that if I move too slow...if I don’t take things too fast...I’ll be too late.”

I don’t allow air to move in or out of my lungs.

I wait until I have time to absorb every word he just said to me.