Hot Wicked Romances

I look around the room, trying to act cool, and not let him notice that I’m freaking the hell out on the inside. “Nice teddy bear,” I say with a smirk, nodding my head to the tattered and well-loved bear on his bookshelf.

Clay chuckles. “That’s Clarence. Don’t mock him, ’cause he’s my homeboy.”

I give him a weak smile and look around the room, my arms folded across my chest. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. Clay and I had never set any expectations for our first overnight together, but still, we have a hard enough time keeping our hands off each other in public. If you could see his chest, you’d understand why. Now we have no audience, no school bells about to ring, reminding us to get to class, and no parents to tell us not to do what we’ve both been wanting to do for so long.

“Babe,” he says, taking a step towards me. “You look ready to fuckin’ bolt. You don’t have to feel that way.” Grabbing my hips, he tugs me forward, pressing our bodies flush together, and wraps me up in a hug. “I didn’t ask you here to get laid. I asked you here to spend time with you, to sleep in the same bed beside you, and to wake up to those sexy blue eyes.” I bite my lip and look up at him, my heart hammering in my chest. “Okay?”

I nod my head, instantly feeling like an idiot. I’m acting like a scared little virgin. Well, I am a virgin, but that’s beside the point. Clay has never asked for more than I was willing to give. He’d never have to. I want him to have it all, so what am I freaking out for?

Just as he’s about to pull away, I pop up on my tiptoes and press a kiss to his lips. He pauses at first, likely wondering what I’m doing, then relaxes, his hand coming up and cupping the back of my head as he pulls me closer.

Slowly, his lips move closer to mine, and when they finally touch, the room around me spins. The only thing keeping me grounded is his lips on mine, his hand in my hair, and his racing heartbeat against my chest.



All my fears seem to wash away as his hard body pulls me closer. None of it matters anymore. All that matters in this moment is me and Clay, and the incredible love we share. I want to show him just how much I love him, and I want to feel his love as he makes love to me. I’m tired of waiting.

Pushing gently against his chest, our tongues slip and slide along the other’s as I walk him backwards, until the back of his knees bump up against the foot of the bed. He takes me with him as he lowers himself back on the unmade mattress, his hands snaking up under the hem of my shirt.

“God, Soph. Your skin is so fucking soft.”

Adjusting myself, I settle on top of him, one leg on each side, with my aching centre pressed against the hardness in his jeans. Grinning, I sit up tall, making a show of it as I slide my shirt up my belly and over my breasts, drawing it over my head and dropping it in a heap onto the floor behind us. His hooded eyes slide across my skin like a caress, his breathing becoming erratic. Still sitting up, I try to breathe normally myself as his hands come up behind me, undoing the clasp on my bra.

He lays beneath me, his gaze never wavering from his task as he slips the straps down my arms, leaving my breasts uncovered. We’ve never gone this far. He’s never seen me without my clothes on, nor I him. It’s kind of hard to get naked in a crowded theatre, or in a booth at the diner. But right now, I’ve never felt less self-conscious or more beautiful than I do being naked in front of Clay.

“Jesus,” he groans.

It happens fast, as I’ve been told your first time does. In a flurry of tongues and kisses, and moans of passion, I lose my virginity to the one boy I want to spend the rest of my life with. He’s sweet as he touches me—worshipping, almost—and I can’t get enough of the feel of his smooth and rigid muscles beneath my hands.

When it’s over, he lays beside me, kissing me slow and tenderly. “That was incredible, baby. So fucking incredible.”

I just smile at the awe in his voice. My heart is full and happy, and I’m ready to do that again.





Chapter 4





“We should go,” I say. Placing my napkin on the table, I slide my chair out. Clay eyes me from across the table, and moves to stand as well.

“No!” my mother cries. “Don’t go, Sophie. Your father will come around. You just got here…I want you to stay.”

Defeat overwhelms me. Flopping back in my chair, I turn my head and look at my mom. Tears fill her eyes as her hands grip the arms of her chair, ready to bolt up and stop me if I insist on leaving. I take a deep breath and shake my head. “Mom, you know he’s not going to come around.”

Suddenly, her face fills with determination. “He will.” She slides her own chair out and stands. “Eat, both of you. I’ll be back in a minute, with your father.” She straightens her shoulders and strides from the room, a woman on a mission.

I turn to Clay. “This is a nightmare.”

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