6. Paget
PAGET
I t hurt.
Not like a punch in the face or a stab in the gut. More of a sharp, piercing pain that ricocheted through my body and hit me. I bit my tongue to keep from crying out.
He was watching my face for signs that I was hurting. And I knew, instinctively, that if he got even the slightest hint, he’d pull back.
That was the last thing I wanted.
We had to keep going forward. I was losing my virginity in this fire tower today. I was losing my virginity to Collin—the man I was born to be with.
I knew it now. Knew it with all my heart. And he felt it too. This was the first of a lifetime of orgasms I’d share with this man. He was the only man for me.
“Can you hold on with one arm?” he asked.
I pushed past the pain to stare at him. The ache was forgotten as I looked at his face. My expression was probably a mask of confusion.
“Yes,” I said, suddenly aware of the pressure my arms were putting on his shoulders. Maybe it was too much. Maybe it was hurting.
“Touch yourself,” he said. “Move your hand between us and touch yourself.”
What? He wanted me to touch myself? Like that ?
It was something I’d never done before. Never even thought about it. Okay, so I’d thought about it, but it seemed dirty. Like something a lady wouldn’t do. And he was asking me to do it right here, in front of him.
For the first time in my life, I was holding back from an adventure. Since when did I let anything stop me from experiencing life?
Never. I lived for the moment. And right now, the most exciting thing I could do was touch myself in exactly the spot he’d licked just minutes earlier.
It took some rebalancing, but I managed to get my right hand between us while still holding onto him with my left.
I closed my eyes as my finger settled onto that swollen bud.
It didn’t feel good. Not yet. But that was probably because the pain was still too intense. I trusted him, though. This would work.
As he gently eased in and out of me—never going too far—I moved my finger over my clit, going slow at first, then picking up my pace.
As that now-familiar warmth began to spread, I leaned my head back against the beam and tried to decide whether the pain was actually starting to feel good or if the pressure of him inside me just made my clit more sensitive.
The pain blurred into something else—something hotter, sharper, more alive.
My breath hitched as pleasure coiled in my belly, winding tighter with every slow thrust of Collin’s hips, every desperate circle of my fingers.
His gaze burned into me, watching, waiting, as if my pleasure was the only thing that mattered.
“That’s it,” he murmured, voice rough. “Let go.”
And I did.
The orgasm crashed over me like a wave, stealing my breath, my thoughts, everything but the feel of him inside me, the way his body shuddered against mine as he followed me over the edge.
He buried his face in my neck with a groan, his hips jerking once, twice, before he stilled, and I knew he’d come.
For a long moment, neither of us moved. The only sound was our ragged breathing, the distant rustle of wind through the trees outside. Then, carefully, Collin lifted his head, his eyes searching mine.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his thumb brushing my cheek.
Tears welled in my eyes. Not from pain, not from regret, but from something so much bigger, something that filled my chest until I thought it might burst.
“I love you,” I whispered.
The words hung between us, fragile and fearless. Collin’s breath caught. Then, slowly, he smiled—the kind of smile that lit up his whole face, the kind I knew I’d spend the rest of my life chasing.
“I love you too,” he said, and kissed me, soft and sure.
And just like that, I knew. This was only the beginning.