Page 50 of For Her Own Good

“How do you like it,Starla? Fast and hard and rough? Or sweet and sensual and slow? I’m happy with whatever you’ll let me have.”

He rubs his thick, hard length along the seam of my sex and I almost die. It feels good but like such a tease. I don’t want a glancing tease of his erection. I want it—him—inside me. And for this time…

“Mostly I’m more of a thorough pounding kind of girl, but I…”

I look up into Lowry’s eyes, suddenly so very self-conscious. I have dreamt about this moment a million times. Have fantasized about this very man taking my virginity over and over again. How he would be gentle and patient and kind and loving. That ship sailed long ago and I’m not a big fan of romanticizing the “loss” of one’s virginity. Honestly, it’s ridiculous. But in some ways, I’m back there again. With my serious crush and feeling like Lowry Campbell is the most perfect man to ever walk the earth. Or to ever grace the gap between my thighs. And I…

Would it really be so bad? To have this thing I wanted so very, very badly I would sometimes cry with all those unruly feelings adolescence can bring? If it were a different role-play, I’d be less shy, but since it’s blending fantasy and reality in some fairly uncomfortable ways, for Lowry especially, I don’t want to ask for it and ruin everything.

But on the other hand, wouldn’t that be magnificent? If all of us could have the option of a do-over? And instead of the three junior prom night thrusts I had with Mike Baxter in the stateroom of his family’s yacht, I could’ve had an attentive, experienced lover who would’ve made me feel so, so good. Would’ve been concerned about me and not his parents’ sheets when I bled.

The pass of a thumb over my cheek drags me back to the present where Lowry is hovering over me, the crease between his brows more prominent than when his face is in repose.

“Are you okay, love? Did you change your mind? We don’t—”

“Oh, no, not at all. I did not change my mind. I want this, I want you, so badly, but I… Can I ask you for something? You can say no and it’ll be fine, and I promise not to make it weird except I’m kind of making it weird right now, aren’t I?”

The corner of his mouth turns up, and he cups my cheek before leaning in to kiss me softly, sweetly, and rub the tip of his nose alongside mine. “You can ask me for anything you’d like. On my honor, I’ll do my best not to ‘make it weird.’”

Why is it that Lowry’s American accent is so very, very strange? But it is and it makes me laugh.

I run my hand down his ribcage, careful not to tickle, and focus on how good it feels to be here like this with him. Nothing has ever felt so right in my life.

“Would you… Could we…”

“Making it weird.”

Snort-giggles are so sexy. As is smacking his shoulder. But how can I help it with his ridiculous American accent? “You know, I don’t think you’d be half as sexy if you were American.”

“Aye, ye’re probably right, lass.”

More giggles, because now he’s laying on the brogue very thick.

“Lucky for me, these cheeky American lasses seem to like my wee accent.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re brilliant. You have the nicest laugh, did you know that? I used to…”

Ah, his turn to trail off. He turns his head, his expression somewhere between rueful and bashful.

“You used to what?”

He blinks back to me, eyes clear, gaze steady.

“I always tried to make you laugh because I loved the sound of it. But that wasn’t my job, so I’d only let myself do it once. One single time when I saw you, and then I’d stop trying. Because it wasn’t right, how much I liked it.”

Meticulous, conscientious man with a ball of guilt the size of a boulder on his back. So I smile and tip my chin up, telling him I’d like to be kissed again, yes, I would. And he doesn’t deny me because he almost never does.

“Would it be awful for you to pretend I’m a virgin? Not that I’m seventeen or that I’m still your patient or anything like that, but…that. That’s what I want our first time to be like. Is that weird and gross? I don’t have a virginity fetish, so I don’t think this would be a regular thing, but for our first time…”

I shrug, which is awkward given that I’m lying on my back. “I thought it might be nice to pretend it’s my first time, is all. Since…I mean, I totally wished it had been you. Not that I haven’t had some good sex in the meantime, but…I don’t know. I’m making a mess of this and you’re probably like, ‘What are ye on aboot, ye wee dafty?’”

Now it’s his turn to snort-giggle, and that’s fair because his American accent is far superior to my Scottish one. When he’s recovered some, he kisses my temple, which also means his chest meets mine and the hot hard length of him slides again against my labia. It makes me whimper, whine, because I want him.

“Will you think I’m a monster if that sounds like a very sexy idea to me? You said you want it, and I’m more than happy to oblige, but I’d rather not if you’re going to think me a pervy old wanker afterward.”

“I feel like I’d think that if you went around deflowering virgins or fucking ex-patients all the time. But it’s different, you know?”

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