2
hannah
When he breaks the kiss, I’m gasping.
His huge hand slides down over my neck, down to the first button of my stupid yummy sushi pajamas. He fingers the button. “Is this okay?”
I nod. And then I remember he wants me to say it out loud, and I say, “Yes,” and my voice sounds too tinny.
He pops it open.
I shudder.
His fingers move lower, to the next button. “Is this okay, Hannah?”
“Yes,” I say, my voice stronger now. Oh, my God, he’s undressing me.
He undoes that button, too, and then his mouth is on mine again, and his kiss is more insistent, forceful as he parts my lips with his tongue.
I let out a strange sort of noise into his mouth, almost a moan.
He makes an answering noise, mournful. And then suddenly, he breaks away from me.
He’s not touching me anymore.
My legs feel actually weak, and I don’t think I can stand, so I crumple against the wall as he straightens up, looming over me, a hulking shadow.
I’ve never been kissed like that in my life. My heart is beating out of rhythm, and my pajamas are wet from where his rain-soaked clothes have pressed into me. I feel damp and overly warm and excited and unsure.
I can’t quite make sense of whatever it is I’ve just agreed to.
Part of me is certain that the next thing he will do is simply walk out of my apartment, leaving the door wide open, and I’ll be left here, panting against the wall while the sounds of thunder echo against my ears, all alone.
But he simply stands there, looking down at me, and he seems uncertain as well.
Time passes, moments of silence that stretch out between us. I can hear my own heart beating. I can hear my sharp intakes of breath.
I begin to become aware that I should probably say something, because this is some kind of awkward silence and I should fill it, but I can’t think of what I should say. I wonder if I should offer him tea again.
He lets out a shaky breath. He backs up and runs a hand through his wet curls. “Fuck am I doing,” he breathes, to himself, I think.
Okay, so now, this is when he leaves.
I wait.
He takes the towel that I gave him from around his neck and holds it in front of himself. He tugs it tight between his fists, and I see the tendons tightening in his forearms and I’m aware of the sheer physical reality of him, right here, right in front of me.
He kissed me.
He looks up at the open door to my bedroom. He looks back at me. “Uh, it’s dark in there. That’s probably good.”
Shit. That hurts. Maybe it shouldn’t. I know what I look like and I know what he looks like, and someone like him doesn’t actually find me attractive.
But he must see something on my face, because he says, “Not because of you. You’re fine.
You’re just not her. And I thought maybe I could think about her while I…
” He grimaces, tugging the towel tight again.
Then he loosens his grip. His voice is softer now.
“Go in there, take everything off, and lie down.” A pause.
“Unless you don’t want to. I’m not going to force you or anything. ”
I don’t think I can stand up. I concentrate on trying to do that, not on whether or not I’m going to go and lie down in the dark so that he can do whatever he’s going to do to me while thinking about my brother’s wife. I have shreds of self-respect, and I don’t want my first time to be like that.
I manage to move away from the wall, to stand on my own shaking feet.
Who am I kidding? When it comes to him, I have zero self-respect. I don’t care. And it’s not as if I’m saving myself for someone else, for something else, for…
I go into the bedroom.
I turn as I get to my bed and see him out there. The light from the living room illuminates him from behind, and he is only a shadow, a beautiful silhouette of a man.
There’s a moment, both of us still, facing each other.
Then, I start to peel my pajama shirt over my head, and he turns his back on me.
That hurts, too, but I don’t stop. I take everything off, and I think belatedly about how I don’t, um, haven’t really… groomed…
I know about doing that, but it’s always seemed stupid and too much effort, and I feel hotly embarrassed as I climb into my bed and lie there.
Not only does my face feel hot, my whole body feels hot, every bare part of me.
I make another noise that sounds like a moan, an agonized moan. I should tell him not to.
He staggers into the room. “You should tell me not to.” His voice isn’t strong.
I’m lying on my back, totally naked, my hands at my sides. I clench them into fists, searching for my voice.
“This isn’t the way it should be, not your first time.
” His voice is husky. He takes off his shirt, but it’s dark, and I can’t see much except glimmers of his bare chest. Anyway, I’ve seen him without a shirt before.
He steps up to the foot of the bed, and he looks down at me, and I wonder what of me he can see.
I think about my terribly sloppy pubic hair and I want to die.
“Hannah.” His voice is guttural. “Do you want me to leave? Do you want me to stop?”
I shiver, but maybe because I’m cold, even though my whole body feels hot. “No,” I whisper.
He sucks in a noisy breath, and he pulls something out of his pocket. I see it glimmering in the light from the hallway. It’s a condom.
I feel my body tighten.
“Uh, okay,” he says and his voice trembles. “Maybe, uh, roll over?”
Seriously? I make a noise, maybe of protest, maybe of surrender, but I do it, rolling over so that I am belly down on the bed.
He’s moving onto the bed, behind me. I feel his weight there.
I smell the scent of rain. He’s closer now, and his hand settles warmly against the curve of my hip.
He lifts me. His other hand is fumbling at his pants.
So, I guess, I’m going to be naked, but he’s not, because I feel the press of his wet jeans against my bare thighs.
Thunder crashes outside.
I jump, but he doesn’t react. I hear the condom tearing.
His hand settles against the small of my back, warm and huge. His voice is quiet in the darkness. “There will be someone else,” he says to me. “You’ll just… with him… you can pretend this never happened.”
What the fuck? He’s insane.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” He’s lifting me, raising my hips, parting my legs, making room for himself between them. I feel the press of something hard and firm and covered in latex sliding around against me, because… embarrassingly… I’m insanely wet.
“I’m sorry, for whatever it’s worth,” he says, and then he reaches between us and lines himself up and—
I gasp.
“You’re okay,” he says. “You’re all right, Hannah, it’s fine. You can take me. I’m an omega. I’m not that big.”
Lie, lie, lie. He’s huge, and he’s filling me up, and I’m stretching everywhere, and I hold my breath as I feel him penetrating me deeper and deeper and deeper.
My breath comes out ragged and uneven. I put my face into the pillow to try to muffle the noises I’m making.
I’d be lying if I said this felt good, but it doesn’t feel bad either.
It’s very, very intense. I can’t concentrate on anything except the part of my body that’s being entirely invaded by him, and I think I’m, um, whimpering.
“Am I hurting you?” His voice sounds strained. “You have to say if it hurts.”
“No, no,” I say into the pillow. “Doesn’t hurt.”
“You don’t like it.” Now, there’s this knowing lilt to his tone, something that seems to reach into the middle of me and take me apart.
I really whimper, right into the pillow.
“You don’t like it.” He’s fucking me now, his hips moving as he drags himself in and out of me. “You don’t.”
I keep making noise. I don’t know why. I don’t even mean to, but it’s like whatever he’s doing, whatever part inside my body that he is hitting again and again in that rhythmic pattern he’s found, slamming inside me, dragging all the way out, slamming back in, it’s connected to something in my throat, and I can’t stop myself from letting out little cries.
He grabs hold of my hips, digging his fingers into me, holding me in place while he just keeps fucking me. “I’ll be quick,” he pants.
Too late.
But it doesn’t go on for much longer than that.
He finishes and he pulls out and he’s off the bed immediately, leaving me lying there. I look over my shoulder at him, holding up his jeans as he flounders around. He finds the door to the bathroom, goes in there, and I register that he’s getting rid of the condom.
He’s back too soon, and I haven’t moved.
He hesitates in the dark, zipping his pants. “Shit,” he says.
I laugh. It’s another of my stupid, too loud laughs. I sound like a braying donkey or something. I can’t believe this has just happened, that I just let this happen, and I don’t have any idea how I feel about it.
“So, uh, okay. That’s done,” he says.
I’m still laughing. Am I ever going to stop laughing?
“I’m going to sleep on the couch,” he says, starting for the door.
“Oh,” I say. “Well, I need to get you blankets, I guess.” I start to get up off the bed.
He’s there, stopping me, pushing me back down. “No, you don’t have to do anything like that. You don’t need to inconvenience yourself anymore.”
“It’s fine,” I say.
He hesitates, looking down at me. He reaches out and cups my face with one of his big, big hands. “You’re okay,” he says again.
It’s not a question, and yet it is, so, I say, “Yeah, I’m fine.”
He rubs his thumb over my cheekbone, almost affectionate.
I swallow. “You can sleep here.”
“You don’t mind?”
“No,” I say.
“Okay,” he says. He straightens up. “Uh… my pants are wet.”
“Yeah, it’s okay, take them off.”
He thinks this over, nods, and does it.
I scoot over and he climbs in next to me. He pulls the covers up over both of us.
We lie facing each other, on our sides.
“It’s not personal, you know. It’s just… Callie and me…”
“Yeah,” I say. But she’s married, I think. But she’s bitten and claimed. But she’s an omega and you’re an omega, and you two have always known that doesn’t work, and that’s why you left, and now you’re back, and what the fuck did I just get myself in the middle of?