Chapter 12
GINNY
Ireturn to the bedroom, his foil-covered condom in hand. He looks up at me, his eyes traveling slowly down my body like warm honey dripping.
"Stop right there," he says in that slow sexy drawl that makes my stomach tighten. "I want to see what I'm getting into."
I freeze in place, feeling exposed but excited as he studies me.
"Oh, you're nice," he says, his voice deepening. "You're very nice. I want to see all of you. Take everything off and stand over there."
I move over to the wall, my pulse racing. My pussy already creaming.
I'm a little self-conscious but also proud of my body. I've worked hard for it—jogging around the fire station, making full use of the gym equipment, eating right. Well, most of the time.
His eyes devour every inch of me.
"Perfection," he whispers. "Perfection. Perfection."
The way he says it makes my thighs quiver.
"Now, come back here."
I do as he says. His hands touch me again, but harder this time. He slaps my butt with a sharp crack that echoes in the quiet room.
"Ow! What's that for?" I gasp, the sting spreading across my skin.
"To scare the ice out of you," he says. "To get your blood flowing. You're going to need it after the workout I'm going to give you."
"Really?" My voice comes out breathy, caught between thrill and fear.
I'm alone with a man more than twice my weight in the middle of nowhere during a snowstorm.
Wounded or not, he's still a man, and I'm a trained firefighter, but that can only go so far given my size.
"Come on," he says, his nostrils flaring slightly. "I'm not going to do anything you don't want me to, but you look like you're up for adventure. I can smell it."
"Oh my God, you can smell it?"
Heat floods my face as wetness pools between my legs. He can smell how wet I am.
It's happening right now.
I could practically orgasm right here. He turns me around so I'm on the bottom again, and he positions himself between my legs.
His cock is thick and hard now, straining against my wet lips, seeking entrance. The pressure makes me gasp.
"You're tight," he says, surprise evident in his deep voice. "Very tight."
"Yes," I whisper, feeling him press harder against me.
"Why is that?" he asks, rising slightly to look into my eyes.
"Because it's my first time," I admit, my cheeks burning.
"Your first time? And you're how old?"
"21," I say, not wanting to think about Wyatt's boyish grin or that failed attempt after high school graduation, or seeing him on television tonight with his model girlfriend. Those memories have no place in this bed.
"I'll be gentle," Dylan promises, his voice dropping to a growl that vibrates through my entire body. His eyes are dark with hunger, like a predator ready to devour me whole.
He lowers himself onto me, his weight pressing me into the mattress as he enters me with surprising gentleness.
I gasp at the unfamiliar fullness, the slight burn that gives way to something electric.
My hips rise to meet his, my body knowing what to do even if my mind is racing. Our rhythm starts slow—tentative—then builds as my fingernails dig into the hard muscles of his back.
"Oh my God," I whisper against his neck, tasting salt on his skin. "Oh my God."
The pressure builds low in my belly, spreading outward like wildfire.
Is this what everyone's been talking about? This feeling like I'm coming apart and being put back together?
We move faster now, his powerful thighs controlling our pace, my legs wrapped around him.
When he finally shouts, his whole body tensing above me, I feel the pulse of him inside me. He collapses, breath hot against my neck, his heartbeat thundering against my chest.
"Warm enough?" I manage to ask, my voice unrecognizable even to myself.
"Yes," he murmurs, pulling me tighter against him, his lips brushing my ear. "When we get out of here, I’m taking you with me."