SEAN
I felt her spasm and tremble around my buried fingers, wet and hot and perfect.
As she finally relaxed against me, I drew my fingers from her.
God, she was so soft there, the hair like silk.
I popped the button of her shorts and put both hands on the waistband: one good tug and I’d have them down over her hips and off, her panties, too.
And then I’d finally get my first glimpse of what she looked like there.
My imagination had been going crazy for months.
I’d dreamed of her a thousand different ways: light pink lips and dark pink, hair every shade from the copper on her head to the brown of her eyebrows, all of it framed by that soft, pale skin.
A thousand ways...and all of them perfect.
I was going to drag those shorts off her—tear them off, if I had to—and then I was going to bury myself in that lush body, feel that heat around my aching cock.
I wanted to see her gasp and pant and dig her nails into my back as I pounded her bare ass into the dirt.
She opened her eyes and stared up at me, the liquid green of a forest clearing. So innocent.
I froze.
“What?” she asked, sounding worried. The sound of her voice made it even worse: soft and sweet and almost apologetic. She was worried she’d done something wrong.
I sat slowly back on my heels, looking at what I’d done to her with fresh eyes: her pale skin smudged with mud, her hair mussed, her top and bra hanging in shreds, breasts still shining from my mouth.
I’d been about to not just fuck her but pound her, down here in the dirt, getting her filthy, tearing her clothes.
..as if by doing that I could somehow bring her down to my level.
Part of me had always been turned on by the gulf between us: the thought of taking someone so pure and leading them down into dark, moaning pleasure. But now that I saw what I was doing….
I couldn’t do it. The only thing stronger than my need to fuck her was my need to protect her. It was almost as if I was seeing myself through someone else’s eyes. I didn’t want a guy like me fucking her.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered, getting to my feet.
“W—what?!” She half-sat up, then felt her ruined top and bra fall around her waist and tried to cover herself. Suddenly, it hit home that she was outside and she looked around fearfully, clutching the rags to her breasts. “What? What are you—”
I shook my head helplessly. And saw the tears well up in her eyes. Ah, shit!
She jumped to her feet, glancing down disbelievingly at her ruined clothes and dirt-smudged body. “Don’t—”—her breathing hitched—”don’t you...want me?”
Part of me died inside. This was destroying her and it was all my fault. “Yeah. Jesus, yeah! But...this is wrong. You can’t get tangled up in my life.”
She had her arms crossed over her breasts, now, holding the shreds of white and pink fabric against her. Tears were spilling down her cheeks. “I already am!”
I shook my head fiercely. I hated to see her cry but with every tear I was more sure.
“You need a good fucking man,” I snapped.
“Not me.” And I marched into the house, straight through it and down to the road, not stopping until I reached my car.
I walked as fast as I could, but I still couldn’t outrun the choking, helpless sob behind me as she really started to cry.
In the Mustang, I started the engine and then pounded my fist on the dash so hard the plastic cracked. Fuck! I wasn’t mad at myself for stopping. I’d done the right thing. I was mad at myself for letting it go so far.
I slammed the car into gear and roared off down the street. No matter how hard it was, I had to make sure nothing like this ever happened again.