47. Petra #2
After dinner, Sin and I head upstairs to his room, pretending to study while we wait for his parents to go to bed. The plan is to explore the basement and search for his family’s archives once everyone else is asleep and the house has quieted down.
I am disconcerted at the thought of rifling through the belongings of the very nice folks who have welcomed me into their house and fed me a delicious meal, but Sin dismisses all my apprehensions with a wave of his hand.
“Oh, please, it’s not like we are robbing them or something.”
We have reached his bedroom, and I’m dumbstruck at what I see: The room is neat and sparse, almost obsessively so. The walls are mostly bare, the furniture minimal, and there are very few personal items carefully placed around the room.
No dirty socks under the bed, no crumpled shirts or sweaty shorts piled up in a chair, not even an errant pen rolling around without a cap.
“Sin,” I say. “Your room is so . . . tidy. It’s almost like a show model.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, I guess I’m kind of a neat freak. I like keeping things organized.”
“I would not have guessed at all,” I reply, sitting at the edge of his bed. “You didn’t bring me to dinner with a fake family, did you?” The words are supposed to sound like a joke, but I make them sound like a paranoid fancy.
But there is no answer. Instead, Sin closes the door behind us, turns toward me, and falls to his knees, pressing his face gently against my belly.
“Err, Sin?” I whisper, as the warmth of his breath tickles me through my clothes.
“I can’t believe we made a baby, Petra,” Sin’s muffled voice thrums against my stomach. “It’s incredible.”
His words make me feel awkward and unprepared for the enormity of parenthood.
But I try to keep my voice steady as I say, “That’s so sweet of you.”
He looks up at me then, his eyes brimming with such naked wonder that I almost catch my breath. “I just can’t believe it. It’s overwhelming . . . but in a good way.”
When he buries his head back in my lap, I run my fingers through his hair, partly for him and partly for me. How many times had I imagined threading my fingers through his thick locks?
“I’m glad you feel that way. It’s been a lot to handle. But knowing you’re with me makes it easier.”
Regret swells inside me as I remember my lies. I should have been truthful from the start. But I only have my scaredy-self to thank for that particular lie. I was so terrified . . . of him finding out, of everyone finding out, that I preferred to pretend it wasn’t happening.
Yet now, looking into his deep blue eyes and the way he regards me with such adoration, I realize my mistake.
“I’m sorry for lying,” I tell him again. “I’m sorry for hiding this from you. I know it was bad of me to do so, but truthfully, I was terrified.”
“No, don’t apologize,” he murmurs softly.
“I admit I was angry thinking you might be pregnant with someone else’s baby at first. But after you told me the truth .
. . Ah, Petra, you have no idea how relieved I felt.
But I also realized that it could not have been easy on you.
You’ve been carrying this weight this entire time. My sweet, brave girl.”
“Thank you,” I whisper. “For not holding it against me. For being so sweet, so supportive. I—” I turn my face away so he doesn’t see the tears forming in my eyes. “I appreciate this. And you. I appreciate you,” I clarify as I clear my throat.
Though it’s the best word I can think of to use at this moment, it’s not the exact truth; I more than appreciate him. I . . . I suppose I haven’t fully come to terms with what I really feel for him. But it is so much more.
And for someone who’s been isolated her entire life, who’s never really dealt with these types of emotions, it’s overwhelming.
“Petra,” Sin says softly, his hand gently caressing mine. “I don’t regret anything that happened between us. But I do have one regret.”
My heart clenches. “What?”
“I know that night wasn’t very good for you,” Sin says in a soft tone. “I fumbled it quite badly, didn’t I?”
“What, no—”
“Don’t bother denying it. I know it wasn’t as good for you as it should have been, and I can only blame it on my eagerness. I should have taken better care of you.”
“W-what are you saying?”
His fingers slide down my leg with the gentlest of pressures.
“I want to make it better.”
A flutter of nerves in my stomach. A wave of heat down my legs where he’s touching me.
His fingers slowly trail farther up my legs, and soon he’s hiking up my skirt, trailing kisses on the side of my knee.
I gulp down as I realize what he means.
“Sin, you don’t have to—”
“I want to, Petra, so badly.” His voice is hoarse with desire.
His fingers gently stroke the delicate skin of my inner thighs. Anticipation builds inside me, made stronger by the feelings he inspires in me and the echo of those dreams: the way dream-Sin had made me feel with his fingers and mouth and . . .
“Please,” he whispers against my legs, and I feel a jolt of desire race through me. “Please let me show you how special you are.”
My body trembles uncontrollably at the sound of his voice, so needy, so hungry for me.
I stumble backward, falling on my back. He looms over me as he continues to hike up my skirt even higher, so that now it lies pooled around my waist.
His eyes are on me, watching, observing. My mouth parts on a soundless moan as he grabs the band of my panties and slides them slowly down my legs.
He leans in and swallows my gasps in a heart-stopping kiss.
“You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he whispers against my lips before going lower, kissing my neck. Once he reaches my cleavage, he unbuttons my shirt and throws it to the side before snapping open my bra.
A shiver goes down my back as the cold air hits my naked skin.
His fingers trail over the top of my right breast, his gaze filled with longing. He traces lines over my skin before leaning down to kiss it. He continues downward until he reaches my nipples, now hard and puckered, and he sucks one into his mouth.
“Oh,” I gasp.
He nibbles at it, slowly, methodically. “Mine,” he whispers. “You’re all mine, aren’t you, Petra?”
I bite my lip as I nod.
“No one’s ever touched you like this,” he states, not a question, an assertion.
“No. Only you.”
“Good,” he purrs.
He reaches my stomach and places an open-mouthed kiss right above the band of my skirt before going lower.
The anticipation is killing me. I’m wet and needy, and as I squirm under him, I have to wonder: Who is this wanton girl? I’ve never seen myself as a sexual being, at least not before. Now? All I want is for him to reach that place that’s weeping for him.
Sin lowers himself between my legs, his eyes locked with mine as he begins to kiss and caress my thighs, biting and sucking at the skin in turns. He’s teasing me with what’s to come, and I don’t know how much longer I can take it.
And then he touches me there.
At first, he places a light kiss over my pussy lips before he drags his tongue through my folds.
“Sin . . .” I gasp out, and my fingers tangle in his hair as his tongue settles on my clit.
Seconds flow into minutes, but I’m outside time itself. Sin uses the flat of his tongue to create pressure at my opening before sucking on my clit in short, concentrated bursts.
With each flick of his tongue, the pleasure seems to build inside me, till I can feel my legs quivering.
“You’re doing so good, my love,” he murmurs against me. I’m too far gone to notice his use of ‘my love.’ Instead, I focus on those growing sensations pooling low in my belly. The way the room starts to spin around me and my body becomes a mess of trembling limbs.
“Sin!” I moan loudly, but the next instant his hand is clamped across my mouth, and I remember where we are—in his bedroom, in his parents’ house.
But I can’t help myself as Sin increases the pace, his tongue doing such wicked things to me that I end up biting on his fingers to keep myself from screaming out.
My clit is swollen from all the licking, and still, I’m only at the cusp of blinding pleasure.
But he takes his mission seriously, using a combination of his tongue and fingers as he presses two digits deep inside of me, curling them until he hits a certain spot.
I nearly jump off the bed.
And then it happens: The orgasm begins deep inside my sex, and my clit starts throbbing as I come, moaning and grunting against Sin’s hand.
My eyes roll back fully, and the heated overflow of juices between my legs leaves me breathless and gasping for words. For a few moments, I just lie there, trembling and breathless as Sin peppers kisses all over my belly again.
“Did you like it, Petra?” he asks in a voice thick with post-conjugal bliss.
“Sin . . . that was . . . amazing.” The words come out warped and a little slurred, but I’m beyond caring. This wasn’t how I had pictured my first real-life orgasm to happen, but I’m happy that I finally know what all the fuss is about.
“I’m glad, Petra,” Sin says. “You look so beautiful when you come undone.”
I blush as I ask, “Do you . . . do you want me to return the favor?”
I am wholly unsure about what to do but completely willing to do what needs to be done.
Sin chuckles and climbs up to lie beside me.
“You don’t have to do anything, Petra. This was about you. And about making you feel special.”
He leans in, and I can smell myself on his lips. It’s a musky, heady fragrance, and when his lips meet mine, it’s all I can do not to pin him under me and have my way with him (whatever that means).
For now, I’m happy to relax in the arms of this dreamy guy who has just given me my first real-life orgasm.
And also, your first baby! my inner voice starts in an objecting tone, but I shush her down.
Right now, there’s only space for me and Sin—and the baby—on this bed.