Chapter 7
“ I want you, Annalise…but I will not take you without your permission.” Sinclair’s blue eyes were on fire, his pupils large and predatory.
And that made me need him all the more.
“I want you too. If you need my permission, you have it.”
Sinclair scooped me up in his arms, just like all the old romantic movies I’d ever seen, and he did it as if I weighed no more than a pillow.
Soon, he was taking the stairs to the second floor two at a time, and I felt breathless.
Would we go to my room or his?
And what would sex for the first time feel like?
I too was on fire, as what felt like an ancient ache throbbed between my legs.
On the second floor, he quickly marched to the end of the hall, managing to turn the doorknob without setting me down.
Then he kicked the door closed, walking across the room to the bed, multiple recessed lights in the ceiling giving the room a soft glow.
I only caught a glimpse of the bedroom but what I’d seen left me almost awe-stricken.
My bedroom here had seemed big but it couldn’t compare to the size of his.
It was huge, and I had no doubt his interior designer had been in here.
Nothing in the room seemed out of place—furniture made of dark rich woods in deep brown, a buff comforter on what looked to be a king-size bed, a fireplace across from it, the face and mantel colors matching the comforter.
A fan overhead spun lazily in the light-colored ceiling as if it knew it didn’t have to work hard thanks to central air, and the drapes on the windows, dark brown, reaching from ceiling to floor, were pulled back, revealing sheer buff curtains underneath.
But I couldn’t take in any more details as he lay me on the bed.
I might have noticed that it felt like I was being laid inside a fluffy cloud, but I was instead tuned in to Sinclair’s body above mine.
His eyes said far more than words ever could.
He was going to consume me, swallow me whole, and I simply had to be strong enough to survive.
I knew I’d been born for this moment.
If I was anything, I was a survivor---and I wanted whatever he planned to give.
He kissed me hard, confirming what I knew already, that we’d been holding back our true feelings for far too long and that this outcome had been inevitable.
Up close, he was everything I had imagined and more.
Even though we’d shared a kiss the night of his employee dinner, I’d been clinging to what I thought I’d remembered—but now it was confirmed.
He was strong, so strong—and I could feel that more from how he seemed to be holding back than by direct force.
He held himself up so that he wasn’t crushing me, but his body was like a solid wall, firm and ungiving.
And the way he smelled seemed to tickle my nose and my nerves—he wore a spicy masculine cologne…
but underneath he had his own scent, one that seemed to call to me…
and it resembled how his tongue tasted in my mouth.
And his eyes…it was as if the color had intensified so that it was like two glowing sapphires burned in their place, his pupils like bottomless pits inside, all ready to consume me.
When he spoke, his voice had a gravelly, sexy quality that made my muscles tighten.
“Do you have any preferences?”
I could barely catch my breath.
“What do you mean?”
“Is there a position you don’t like or is there something you really enjoy?”
It took me a second to realize that he was wanting to make this first time all about me…
but I had a confession.
How would I tell him?
Really, there was no way to do it other than to come out and say it.
“I’m…a virgin, so—”
His pupils grew even larger, as if he’d been caught stealing.
“In that case, I can’t possibly—”
“Oh, yes, you can—and you will. I want this. I want this with you .”
Already, though, I could feel how he’d cooled—almost as if he’d jumped in an icy shower…
and his eyes told me he was at war with himself.
Finally, he said, “Your first time can’t be me ripping your dress off and pounding into you, as much as I’d like that.” A small grin spread across his face, probably because he read in my eyes that I wouldn’t mind that either.
“Wait here.”
And, with that, he crossed the bedroom, entering another room—the bathroom.
It wasn’t long before I heard water running and I wondered what exactly he was doing.
I sat up on the bed, taking in more details of his most personal space.
While it was attractive, it also felt spartan in that there was no artwork on the walls, no decorative touches like I’d seen in the rest of the mansion.
Everything in this room was practical and had a purpose—reminding me of the man who occupied it.
I got up off the bed, kicking off my sandals and walking over to the bathroom.
Although he’d told me to wait, I didn’t want to.
I’d already told him more than once that I wanted this, wanted him…
and I didn’t want to wait.
The colors in the bathroom matched the bedroom—dark and moody—but the large tub against the wall was white, as were the two sinks across from it, next to the toilet.
Against one wall was a shower with floor-to-ceiling glass, dark tiles behind it.
Again, beautiful yet austere.
So Sinclair.
I felt a pang in my heart…
because it really did feel like the man—strong, brave, intractable…
And so alone.
But I was here now—and it all felt so right.
He was filling the tub with water and bubbles, and part of me wanted to ask where he got bubble bath, because he didn’t seem the type to indulge…
but, thinking about the laptop I used daily that belonged to a woman who fancied herself the future Missus, maybe I didn’t want to know.
At first, I expected Sinclair to be angry with me for disobeying his request to wait—but his eyes said something far different.
He pulled me close and kissed my forehead, just holding me close while the tub filled.
Finally, he said, “Your first time should be special. I’m no expert, but I’ll do my best.”
“This looks like a good start.”
His rakish smile returned, causing my pussy to clench with rampant desire, and I mentally tried convincing myself that whatever he had planned would be special.
I supposed he had a good start, considering I couldn’t remember the last time I’d taken a bath instead of a shower, much less a bubble bath.
Then he closed the gap between us and kissed me lightly, his hands roaming all over my back and then my sides, sending shivers throughout my body.
Finally, he realized there were no zippers or buttons and, as his lips moved to my neck, he began peeling the dress off me much like he might get to the center of an orange.
As he pulled it down my body, his lips followed, kissing the crest of one of my breasts peeking out of the lace pink bra, getting on his knees as he brought the dress over my hips.
Then he kissed the flesh just below my belly button, and I thought I might jump out of my skin as he got closer and closer to that pulsating core below.
But he let the dress fall on the floor, having exposed my matching pink panties, and then he stood.
The tub was almost full now, so I asked, “Should I shut it off?”
The small smirk reappeared on his mouth.
“You should just stand there looking beautiful.” Leaning over, he turned off the water and stood as he took in my body with his eyes.
I felt self-conscious because no one had ever looked at me the way he was—and I’d never been this exposed.
“And I believe you are the most gorgeous creature I’ve ever seen.”
Did he really mean that?
I bit my lower lip, wondering what would come next—and he loosened his tie before removing it, setting it carefully on the counter between the sinks.
Then he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, all while taking me in with his eyes.
But soon I was looking at his fingers, curious myself as to what he looked like underneath his clothes.
It was almost like he was unwrapping a present.
After he undid the last button, he pulled off the shirt, setting it on top of the tie, and I drank in every detail—the masculine pecs that I wanted to touch, the hard abs, the swollen biceps—and a small black tattoo on his right upper arm.
I wouldn’t have imagined I’d find something like that on him.
Because of the scar on his lip, I’d expected to find other scars as well, but he seemed to be a perfect male specimen.
Below his navel was a small line of hair that disappeared underneath the waistband of his pants.
When my eyes met his again, he gave me a small grin as if he could read my thoughts.
“Are you ready to get in the tub?”
“Um, sure.” I still didn’t know exactly where all this was going, but I knew I had to trust him.
He could have ravaged me back on his bed and had chosen not to—so, whatever this night promised, I knew I could trust the man I was with.
When I reached behind my back to unclasp my bra, he said, “Here. Let me.” He walked around behind me and took both sides in his hand as his mouth lowered to my neck.
Then, once the bra was undone, he loosened it, letting the straps fall down my arms. Sliding his hands around to the front, he cupped both my breasts and I couldn’t help the slight gasp that escaped my lips.
He began kneading my areolas between his thumbs and forefingers gently, waking up every nerve in my body once again.
I could hardly wait.
The way my back arched into the pleasure of his hands caused my rear to push into his body—and that was when I felt his hardness against my back…
a steel rod of pleasure that I’d read about for years but had never experienced myself.
But I could hardly concentrate as his hands began sliding down my belly to my panties, the area where I desperately wanted his attention.
He slid several fingers under both sides along my hips, easing them down my thighs until they too dropped.
Then he backed off and slapped me on the ass.
“Get in.”
His slap had been playful and hadn’t stung at all, but it reminded me of the time several weeks ago when I’d taunted him to spank me.
I tested the water with my toe first, and it was overly warm, but I knew I’d get used to it.
As I stepped in, I looked at Sinclair again.
He was picking up my clothes off the floor, setting them on the counter next to his.
Far more thoughtful than I’d ever thought he was.
I wondered if he was planning to join me in the tub or if he was going to scrub my back or something else.
As I lowered myself into the water, he sat down on the toilet to untie and remove his shoes.
The warmth felt inviting and the bubble bath smelled good, but I couldn’t quite figure out the scent.
There was a slight almond smell to it, much like a cherry-almond lotion I had back home.
The familiar scent and the warmth surrounding my body helped me relax, even though I was nervous about what would happen next—because, despite wanting Sinclair, this was very new territory for me.
I began thinking it might have been better if he’d just taken me in the library, because I wouldn’t have the stress of anticipation.
But as he stood and unbuckled his belt, I told myself that anticipation was a good thing—and this had been something I’d been imagining for a while now.
The ends of my hair were falling in the water, so I tried twisting it all into a ponytail and then a bun, trying to get it to hold itself.
After Sinclair set his belt on the counter, he opened a drawer and pulled out a plastic hair clip.
“This should help.”
Although he was right, I wondered again who this belonged to—but, if I were going to go through with this, I had to put it out of my mind.
I hadn’t seen Sinclair with another woman since I’d arrived, even though that didn’t mean much…
but he hadn’t brought a woman home to the best of my knowledge and I didn’t believe he’d talked to any women on the phone in my presence.
Even his female employees who’d been at the dinner didn’t seem to have designs on him and vice versa.
So I could either choose to be jealous of what I thought were remnants of a previous partner…
or I could let go and trust this man.
And I did—I trusted him.
Maybe not completely.
There were still business matters between us that I hesitated over…
but here and now, he had my complete and utter faith.
And desire.
Especially when he unzipped his pants and removed them.
Underneath he wore a pair of black boxer briefs, hugging him closely, and when he turned to set the pants on the counter, I got a nice look at his rear end.
He was a beautiful man.
I couldn’t help but think of Michelangelo’s David statue.
Of course, in high school, no teacher had directed students to it, but I’d been fascinated by the Renaissance and had specifically tried to find every work of art created by both Michelangelo and da Vinci.
I’d seen the David statue from every angle, marveling at how Michelangelo had made stone almost bend to his will to create something so perfect.
Hundreds of years later, it was still admired.
When I saw Sinclair’s ass, I couldn’t help but think of that statue.
But when he turned around, Sinclair’s work on the weights in his gym made his pecs bigger than what I thought the statue’s seemed.
And something else…as Sinclair pulled his boxers off, what I saw was far bigger than the statue.
Of course, it was engorged, something I’d learned about in sex ed in middle school, one of those topics that had made half the girls giggle and the rest of us blush and wish we’d been anywhere else.
I’d tried to imagine it in my mind and had even checked it out on Wikipedia—but that had been enough.
In the flesh was much different from real life.
If he minded that I was staring, he didn’t show it.
He was bigger than I’d expected and I tried not to think about how it would feel inside me.
But I knew that was what it was meant to do…
so it would feel good.
That was what I told myself.
Swallowing, I forced my eyes to his and he smiled as he approached the tub.
“Do you mind if I join you?”
“Not at all.”
“Slide forward a bit.” When I did, he stepped in behind me.
As he sat, he slid his legs around mine so that, when I slid back, I was cradled in his body.
His manhood was pressed against me.
I felt excited and jittery and even silly, wondering what I should call it.
Back in high school, I’d heard girls in the bathroom call them anything other than the clinical name penis .
Most frequently, I’d heard the word dick , but sometimes they used it as an insult.
I’d also heard cock and once a girl called her boyfriend’s member a python .
Well…until he asked me to actually talk about it, I didn’t need to call it anything—but I found it quite titillating against my back.
And it was as if he could read my mind.
“Are you nervous?”
“A little.”
“Don’t be. I’ll take good care of you.” And then he began kissing my neck.
He’d been resting his hands on his thighs, but now they began to explore…
.one began tickling one of my pebbly nipples while the other eased my leg down on to his before tickling the inside of my thigh.
My pussy clenched and ached, wanting to feel him.
And he finally obliged.
I closed my eyes, relishing all the sensations, hardly aware of how I was breathing deeper, how my body was responding to his touch.
Soon, his finger was moving through the folds of my lady parts before it arrived at the one spot that was throbbing and needy, and I wondered how he’d found it so easily.
A gasp escaped my throat.
He continued the motion and I wasn’t about to stop him, because this was a sensation that felt so natural and so foreign at the same time.
Then he nibbled my ear and removed his hands so that they both rested on my thighs.
“Just warming you up a little bit.”
I could barely speak.
“I’m plenty warm.”
“Then maybe it’s time to get out.”
Again, my body tensed, nervous once more at what was coming but also excited.
He stepped out first onto the mat before holding out a hand for me.
There weren’t many bubbles left so there were none on my skin, but goosebumps appeared on my arms and my nipples tightened as the water dripped off my body.
Pulling a towel off the rack, Sinclair wrapped it around my shoulders to bring me close and kissed me, long and luxurious, waking up my nerves again.
Then he gently dabbed at my skin—my arms, my back, my front, pausing to kiss a nipple before dabbing at my legs.
Next, he quickly dried himself off and I couldn’t help but look at his dick again—it wasn’t as hard as it had been before, but it wasn’t floppy either.
I couldn’t stop myself from touching it.
Seeing pictures was one thing—but this was my first real encounter.
I took it in both hands, surprised at how smooth it felt at first—but as I moved along, it engorged fully again, feeling almost angry: hard and swollen, ready to punish something for pleasure.
My pussy grew wet again just thinking about it.
“He’ll get to feast on you later,” Sinclair said, a finger under my chin.
When I looked in his eyes, he said, “But first things first.”
I had no idea what he was talking about, but I kept my hands on him without sliding them as he removed the clip on my hair and spread it across my shoulders.
“You are stunningly beautiful.”
I gave him a shy smile, wondering what else he wanted to say—because it felt like he was holding something back.
I thought I knew what it was.
Likely, he was feeling the same way I was—that we shouldn’t be here doing this, that we were breaking every possible rule.
I knew my own father would be devastated if he knew I was about to lose my virginity to his sworn enemy’s son, but how would Sinclair’s father react?
I suspected he too would be disappointed…
angry. And although I knew my father would never disown me no matter how upset I made him, I didn’t know if the same could be said for Sinclair’s father.
As if he sensed my hesitation, Sinclair kissed me again, keeping every fire inside me ignited and hot for him.
Then, taking my hand, he led me into the bedroom.
I felt a little self-conscious, my body bare, exposed—but he was naked too.
And ever the gentleman.
He pulled back the big gray comforter, exposing black sheets, and he invited me to lie down.
As I rested my head against the pillow, I could smell his scent in the sheets, and it was like a pheromone, stimulating all my juices.
When he lay next to me, his finger traced a pattern between my breasts, again emphasizing to my body just how desperate I was for his touch.
Between my breasts wasn’t good enough.
I needed more.
And he was about to deliver.
“Have you ever had an orgasm?”
That question embarrassed me.
I hadn’t done much self-exploration, not feeling much desire for anyone…
until I’d been in his presence.
More recently, I’d considered trying, just to relieve the ache I felt for him, but the answer was that I never had.
So I told him the truth.
“No.”
I felt like he was going to ask another question, but he didn’t.
Instead, he kissed me once more while that finger continued making a pattern in my cleavage.
After getting me steamed up, his lips moved to my neck, my collarbone, then to where he’d been tracing with his finger before he snaked his tongue down my belly.
It wasn’t long before he settled between my legs—and, although I knew what he was about to do, I had no idea what to expect.
“Relax, baby,” he said—and that made me tense up.
But his hands gently spread my legs farther apart, making me feel more vulnerable at first…
and then needy.
I could feel his fingers in my folds, and each touch felt like electricity.
Rather than look at his head, I shifted my eyes to the languid ceiling fan, trying to focus, because my body wanted to squirm.
Finally, his tongue touched me.
He began lapping at my slit and I sucked in a breath of air.
His tongue seemed to move at the pace of the fan—unhurried but determined.
Everything inside me was concentrated on that one spot.
Closing my eyes, I took in slow, deep breaths, realizing that his attention there was helping my nerves feel less panicked, less desperate.
But it wasn’t until after a minute or so that something in my brain seemed to click.
While what he’d been doing up till this point had felt good…
now it felt like it had purpose, like it was leading to a big payoff.
Because I’d been concentrating on the sensations he was stirring, I hadn’t noticed at first how my breathing had deepened.
Then he did something with his tongue, something that felt like a swirl, and it woke me up all over again before he returned to his previous pattern.
Involuntarily, a little groan escaped my throat as I found myself trying to grip the silky sheet underneath me.
As if in response, the pressure his tongue exerted increased just enough to bring up my heart rate.
Something was going to happen.
I knew what it was…but dare I hope?
Was it real?
Regardless, there was no mistaking this was building to something.
Desperate for something to hold onto, like the bar across one’s lap on a roller coaster, I shoved my hand into his hair, trying not to pull but feeling as if I needed to be grounded in some way.
The sensation was even stranger, as I could sense the slight motion of his head giving me pleasure from another angle.
I began thinking it wasn’t going to happen, yet he stayed in place, lapping at my clit valiantly as if he didn’t have a care in the world—and it was his attention, his care that meant more to me than any—
But what felt like another wall in my brain came crashing down, unleashing something.
I gasped a deep breath, almost as if to steel myself, as my thighs began to tremble, held apart gently by his warm, strong hands.
And then it was as if I was hit by a wave of the ocean.
“Ohhhhhhh…” I moaned, unable to stop the sound escaping my mouth.
It was much like I imagined speaking in tongues might be like, spontaneous and powerful, overtaking any control I had over my mind and body.
The rhythm with which the orgasm overcame me continued to be driven by the stroke of his tongue.
Every swell of pleasure I experienced matched the relentless caress he applied to my clit and, after what felt like eons, it continued with less intensity—and, for that, I was grateful, because I felt out of breath and almost exhausted.
Still, my body didn’t give up, my thighs now matching the same rhythm as he kept up his slow pace.
It wasn’t until my body finally relaxed in pleasurable exhaustion that I noticed my hand was still tangled in his hair.
Weakly, I managed, “Oh, sorry.”
He kissed the inside of my thigh.
“You have nothing to be sorry about.” Sitting up, he moved next to me, but I had to force my eyes open.
“That was really your first orgasm?”
I chuckled lightly.
“Yeah. I’ve never experienced anything like that before.”
As he brushed his lips on my shoulder, I felt a shiver run through my body.
God…I was alive but I couldn’t take advantage of it yet.
First, I had to rest.
But I hoped we weren’t done.
“I can give you that whenever you want.” Another imperceptible tremor rumbled through my insides as I tried to contemplate the weight of his promise.
A greedy part of my mind, a spot I didn’t know existed, pounced on that, imagining him between my legs every night.
That would certainly make the next ten years bearable.
But had we moved away from that?
I was glad my eyes were still closed as I tried to imagine how what we’d just done would again completely change my life.