And she really was beautiful. It wasn’t just the beauty of her flesh, of her sweet little nipples and soft breasts, of the twinkle in her eyes and the halo of silky mahogany hair around her head,
Helen’s beauty was so much deeper. She had a beautiful soul, a beautiful, pure spirit. She was exquisitely sensitive, an innocent, a delicate flower blossoming.
I was transfixed by her.
I was consumed by her.
And I was perplexed by how a lust so forbidden could feel so divine.
I pulled out slowly, carefully, and inched my body from hers, keeping an arm across her stomach as I lay at her side. She stared at the ceiling, eyes glazed.
Her fingers found me. They stroked my arm, back and forth, absentmindedly but in perfect rhythm.
“What are you thinking?” I asked.
She tipped her head towards mine, and she was smiling. “I’m just… happy…”
I pressed my lips to her forehead.
“…I can’t believe this is really real. It really is. It’s real. I wanted this for so long.” Her smile grew wider. “It’s like a dream. A perfect dream. The best dream ever.”
“It’s not a dream, Helen.”
“I can still feel you. I can feel where you’ve been. I feel… different.”
“Does it hurt? Are you sore?”
She shook her head. “No. Just… different.” She slipped her fingers between her legs, then sat up with a jolt. I sat up with her, following her gaze as she shifted on the bedcovers. I watched her cheeks darken as she uncovered a pink-red stain on the bedding. “Oh no, I’ve made a mess.”
“It’s not a mess,” I said.
“I’m really sorry.”
I leaned in to kiss her shoulder. “Don’t be. You have nothing to be sorry for.”
Her smile came back, and there was a girlishness to it. “I did it. We did it.” She didn’t take her eyes from the bedding. “I’m not a virgin anymore.”
“You’re definitely not a virgin anymore, Helen.”
“This is us.” She traced the outline of the stain, ran a finger around its dark edges as it bled further into the fabric, and it was still wet. Wet with her, wet with me. Glossy from the part of me I’d left within her. Her eyes flicked to mine and they were full of nerves. “Was it ok for you? Was I…ok?”
“You were beautiful.” I slid my fingers over hers. “You were so much more than ok.”
“I was?”
I pulled her close, until her chest was tight against mine and her arms folded around my neck. “You were so good, Helen.” I smoothed her hair. “You were perfect.”
She breathed against my neck. “I feel like I’ll burst, like my heart can’t contain these feelings.” She squeezed me hard. “I’m so happy…”
“And tired,” I said. “You must be tired.”
“A little.” I felt her eyelashes flutter against my skin. “Can I… stay? With you?” Her breath was soft. “In here?”
My arms held her so tightly I feared I would never let her go. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
I pulled the covers from under us, and kept her in my arms as I lay down. She sighed a happy sigh, and pressed herself against me, the whole length of her, her skin against my skin, her legs tangling with my legs.
“I want to stay like this forever…” Her voice was a whisper. “I want to stay right here… in this moment…”
And so did I. My heart felt raw and open, and it pained with a need long buried. The need to feel another person beside me. The need to be seen by another person. The need to be known by another person.
“…sorry… I shouldn’t say that…I’ve just never felt like this before… I feel like I’m flying…”
“You can say it,” I said. “You can tell me anything.”
And I wished she would. I wished she’d tell me everything. I wanted everything, all of her, every secret in her heart, every lie she’d ever told, every dream she’d ever dreamed. And it scared me.
The strength of my feelings for the girl in my arms scared me.
She was the greatest gift. The greatest treasure.
“Goodnight, Mr Roberts.”
I kissed her soft lips until she gasped for breath, until her heart thumped against mine, until her toes clenched and curled around mine.
“It’s Mark,” I said.
***
No alarm, just the sun creeping in through the curtains, and the caw of a crow somewhere high. My bed was so warm with Helen in my arms. I opened my eyes, and hers were already watching me.
Her hair was a dark tangle on my pillow, her face just an inch from mine, fascinated, as though I was some exotic apparition.
“Did you sleep at all?” I asked.
She nodded. “A little.”
I smiled at her, reached up to stroke her face. “You should sleep.”
Her fingers gripped mine and brought them to her lips. “I was excited… and scared… and couldn’t sleep.”
“Why scared?”
“Scared for my heart… scared that you’ll regret this…” Her nervousness was innocent and sweet. “Do you?”
“No.” And I didn’t. As much as I should do, I didn’t regret taking Helen Palmer’s virginity.
“Really?”
“Really.”