5. Petra
PETRA
Feeling a little silly and a lot flattered, I giggle. “You’re just saying that because we’re both drunk.”
“Maybe I can say it out loud because of liquid courage,” he murmurs, slowly tracing the bloom of my cheek with a long, slender finger. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not true.”
At this point, our faces are inches apart, and when I realize this, my heart starts pounding again. Maybe this was all happening too soon, maybe we had both had too much to drink, maybe we should—
His lips brush mine, soft and tentative at first.
I freeze for a second, my mind spinning, and for once, that nagging voice in my head is silenced.
My hands are clasped together in my lap, getting sweatier by the second.
Then Sin’s warm, broad palms cup my face and tilt it slightly upward as his lips press and suck on mine, deepening the kiss before I can even get a word in.
His tongue probes at the seam of my lips, and on a soundless moan, I allow him access to my mouth.
At first, I’m not sure what I’m doing exactly.
I’ve seen movies where people French kiss, but experiencing it for myself is a whole different matter.
He tastes sweet, inviting.
Perhaps this isn’t so bad—having my first kiss with a beautiful guy on my eighteenth birthday.
In fact, that’s quite a nice present.
I barely start to get used to this kissing business when Sin’s lips move to my neck.
I gasp as a shiver goes down my back. Meanwhile, his hands are everywhere, exploring, stroking, cupping.
The taste of alcohol is still strong in my mouth, and behind my closed eyes, the black tapestry seems to be swirling with odd shapes.
Still, I don’t ask him to stop when he starts loosening the sash around the robes—both his and mine.
Soon, my back hits the floor, and he hovers over me, dropping butterfly kisses over the length of my body, starting from the tip of my nose to my collarbone and sternum, and then swooping down lower still.
In fact, Sin handles me expertly, as if I were a doll whose parts he had put together.
Despite the earlier chill in my bones, I’m warm and sweaty now. His body is like a blanket, covering every shivering inch of me and turning it into a molten mass of . . . want?
Is that the word?
I’m not sure.
Perhaps it’s the alcohol, but everything is warm.
My robe falls around my sides and pools on the floor.
Sin, too, shrugs his robe off, throwing it to the side.
A part of me is delighted that I’m throwing caution to the wind, being reckless and wild like this.
But another part of me is somehow set apart, as if I were watching our entangled bodies from a distance.
I blink, a moment of awareness seeping through.
What am I doing? Here? With Sin, a guy I barely know?
I’ve never given much thought to how my first time would be. Considering my lack of friends, it seemed like something that wasn’t even in the cards for me.
But I certainly never imagined it would be like this. With a . . . stranger.
The faint hum of voices drifts up from the party below. Some people are still splashing around in the pool, it seems. Someone turns up the music, and the bass matches the beat of my heart.
Is this fear? Anxiety? Nervousness?
I think I am far too drunk to make sense of what I’m feeling. But one thing is certain. If I were to scream, no one would hear me.
Do I even want to scream?
Confusion swirls in my mind. On the one hand, his touch is pleasant. Warm. Familiar. But on the other hand, I know that I am being far too reckless. I may know of him, but I don’t know him.
“Sin—” I start. But before I can say anything else, Sin swallows my words. His lips are back on mine, his kiss more savage than before. He plunders my mouth until all the previous resistance falls away.
Shifting, he nestles his hips between the cradle of my thighs, rubbing against me.
My eyes widen when I feel him at my center.
Big. Hard. Ready.
There’s only the thin material of our underwear separating us.
“Oh!” I gasp out loud.
“You’re such a good girl, Petra.” Sin praises me on a breathless moan. “So beautiful . . .”
One of his hands cups my breast, strumming my nipple between his fingers. The other hand travels lower down my body as he traces the outline of my panties.
No one’s touched me there before.
He pulls my panties to the side and swipes his fingers along the seams of my sex, slowly at first, as if he’s trying to commit this moment to memory, before going faster.
And when his movements are too obstructed by the material of my panties, he grabs the sides with both hands and tears them. The flimsy cotton falls away easily, giving him unfettered access to me.
My head feels heavy. My throat is parched.
“Sin,” I whisper. I’m nowhere near sober enough to be making such a huge decision right now. He isn’t either. Yet something about this feels wrong and right at the same time.
We should stop. We should—
“Such a pretty pussy,” he murmurs appreciatively as he cups my sex. He focuses his attention on my clit, petting it with increasing speed until all potential protests become a mass of moans that I barely recognize as coming from me.
I need to stop this. But I also want more of it. I’m curious about what more there is.
But just as I feel close to . . . something, his weight is lifted off me.
The alcohol is making my head spin too fast, and I can’t see what he’s up to. It’s only when he settles back down between my legs that I realize he’s fully naked.
“Sin.” I open my mouth to tell him to stop, that we’ve already gone too far and I don’t think I’m ready. Or am I? I can no longer tell. It’s almost as if I am under a spell.
His fingers probe at my entrance, and he inserts one finger inside me.
The sudden intrusion makes me startle, but he’s gentle enough that soon I’m squirming under him as I find myself once more getting close to that elusive peak.
“You’re doing so good, Petra,” I hear him say dimly. “I need to make you mine so badly . . .”
I frown at his words. But before I can ask him what he means, he lines his cock against my entrance and pushes in.
What follows is a brief, blinding moment of pain.
And then a muffled groan from Sin as I’m fully pulled under a veil of darkness.