Too Late

I should have been more prepared.

Prepared.

I gasp. We aren’t prepared.

He’s not even wearing protection. I try to move my hands from his grasp above my head, but he doesn’t budge. “Asa,” I plead. “Condom.”

He groans against my neck. “It’s on, baby. Don’t worry.” He squeezes my hands and pulls back, staring down at me. “You are so tight,” he says. “This is a fucking dream.”

Or a nightmare.

He releases my hands. The whole time he’s been having sex with me, I haven’t once told him no.

Not once.

And I’m not even sure I want to now. What’s done is done. I’m not a virgin anymore, and I would feel bad making him stop now. Not when he thinks I wanted this. It would make me feel even more immature and inexperienced compared to him. To take selfishly from him...twice tonight...and stop him when it’s his turn?

One of his hands is behind my knee now, lifting my leg, wrapping it over his waist.

I wince, because the new position makes him dive into me even deeper.

“Does it hurt?” he whispers.

I nod. “Yes.”

He smiles a little, and I feel that smile rip at me. Why did he smile?

“It’ll hurt worse if I stop,” he says. “It won’t feel like this next time. I promise. Just breathe through it, okay?”

It’ll hurt worse if he stops? Oh, God. I didn’t know first times were like this. Why did I ever feel pathetic for waiting so long? I could have happily waited a lifetime if I knew first times were so painful.

“Put your other leg around me,” he says. “It’ll feel better if you stop resisting.”

I do what he says and I try to relax. Anything to make it not hurt so much.

His lips come down against mine, and then his teeth tug gently at my bottom lip. I close my eyes and do whatever I can to stop my body from resisting. How could I want him so much before this started and then suddenly feel the complete opposite? That’s not really fair to him. To selfishly take what feels good to me and then want to deny what feels good to him.

“You are so sweet, Sloan. So fucking sweet.” His thrusts grow faster. Harder. I hope that means it’s almost over.

One of his hands meets the headboard and he holds himself up. His weight being pressed against the headboard causes it to crash into the wall every time he pushes against me. It’s almost as if he’s turned on by the sound—by the fact that marks are likely being left on the wall—because he pushes harder with every thrust.

“Fucking hell,” he groans.

I can’t close my eyes. Watching him above me—seeing the way he’s engrossed in the way it feels to be inside me—it almost makes the pain fade.

Almost.

I try to find enjoyment in it. I think part of me does. The way he’s watching me—grunting—touching me with his free hand. He palms my breast and says, “Do you like it yet?”

I whimper, because I do. A small part of me is starting to like the way he’s looking at me. His thumb brushes over my nipple and then his other hand leaves the headboard. He lowers himself until his lips are on my breast, sucking gently. He’s no longer fucking me.

He’s gentle now. Barely moving inside me.

This is better.

This doesn’t hurt as much.

His mouth moves to my other breast and he lifts his eyes to meet mine while his tongue circles my nipple in slow strokes. “Do you like this, Sloan?”

I finally nod. He smiles, still teasing me with his mouth. He closes his mouth over my nipple and sucks once, hard, biting gently with his teeth. Then he releases my breast and his lips feather mine.

“Thank you,” he says with a slow thrust inside me. “Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for giving me what you’ve never wanted to give to any other man.” His tongue slides softly against my bottom lip. His hand slides up my chest and wraps around my throat.

Despite the leap it causes my heart to take when I feel him squeeze my neck, it’s a gentle squeeze.

He must see the fear enter my eyes, because he whispers, “I need to touch your throat. I won’t hurt you, but I want my hand here. Is that okay?”

I have no idea what’s normal and what isn’t during sex. I’ve only had ten minutes of experience with it.

I swallow and then nod softly.

He closes his eyes and presses his forehead to mine. His lips barely touch mine, but he doesn’t kiss me. He just begins to move slowly, all the way in, part of the way out, all the way back in. Every movement against me comes a little faster. A little more deliberate. He’s breathing hard against my mouth, his hand still against my throat. Gentle, though. And even though this feels nothing like his mouth felt between my legs, it’s a different kind of feeling. A feeling of desire to want him to like this. To like how I feel to him.

I keep my eyes open the entire time, fascinated by the intensity of him. He keeps his head pressed against mine, his lips still don’t fully take mine, his hands begin to grip me tighter.

“Fuck,” he whispers against my mouth. “Fuck,” he says again. He begins to shake as he releases, and my breaths have matched his in desperation. I’m gasping with him as the tremors take over and he shoves into me again. He holds himself still, his lips resting between mine, his breaths colliding with mine.

He collapses against me and buries his face against my neck for a full minute before his mouth meets my skin. “Thank you,” he whispers.

I don’t say you’re welcome.

I stare up at the ceiling, wondering why I feel so conflicted. I liked that I made him feel good. I liked when he made me feel good.

But I didn’t like the rest of it.

I guess that’s why I’ve read that sex in real life is different from sex in books and on TV. In real life, it’s uncomfortable. Awkward. It even feels wrong and unwanted at times. Hopefully it won’t feel like that every time. Hopefully it only gets better.

His hand meets the side of my head as he presses his mouth to my ear. “You’re gonna have a hard time getting rid of me now.”

I smile. At least he has me convinced that this actually meant something to him. That he didn’t just see me as a one-time thing. That has to be a positive thing. I still find it hard to tell with him. Sometimes the positive things seem negative and the negative things seem positive. He’s a haze of confusion to me. But I have nothing else to compare this to. No one else to compare him to.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, pushing himself off the bed. He stands up and it’s the first time I’ve seen him naked. Every single muscle is cut and defined. He reaches down and carefully pulls off the condom and tosses it into the trashcan.

I don’t even remember him putting it on. That must have happened when I told him I’d have sex with him. That’s what happens, right? You discuss sex and then get the condom. I must have been half asleep.

I hate that there were moments when I doubted him tonight. He’s been nothing but nice to me. Honest with me. I’m punishing him for my unspoken feelings of indecisiveness. How could he stop when I didn’t even find my voice to say no?

Asa leaves his bedroom, but comes back in less than a minute. He closes the door behind him and walks to the bed, lowering himself beside me. He’s holding something. He leans over me and puts a hand on my knee, spreading my legs open. Then he presses something warm against me. Something wet.

“I want to help with the pain,” he says, his eyes full of concern. “Let me hold this here for a minute or two.”

I nod and relax my legs while he holds the warm washcloth against me. We don’t speak. The whole thing is kind of strange and surreal, and I don’t want to make it even more so with words. I have no idea what to even say right now.

He kisses the top of my knee and then uses the rag to clean me up. “You bled a little,” he says. “It’s okay, it stopped.”

He tosses the rag into the hamper and then moves to lie next to me. He pulls the covers over us and we’re facing each other.

“Did you enjoy it?” he says, brushing a strand of hair from my face.

I don’t want to hurt his feelings, so I lie. “Yes,” I whisper. “It hurt. But I liked it.”

He kisses my cheek. “Well, I loved it.” He wraps his arm over me, his hand cupping my ass. He pulls me against him. “I’ll take you home tomorrow,” he says, wrapping himself around me. “But I hope you stay long enough for me to make you love it. I promise you will. The first time is always the hardest.”

For the next several minutes, his lips meet every part of my neck and shoulder. Never his tongue, though. Just his lips—soft and gentle against my skin. I’ve never felt so delicate. Every time I think he’s asleep and I’m on the verge of it, his lips meet my skin again. It’s like he’s scared to go to sleep for fear that he’ll wake up and this will all have been a dream.

I’m almost asleep again when his mouth presses against my neck, jerking me awake.