Page 74 of Protect Your Queen

“You’re soaked, sweet little Songbird.”

I pushed past that tight entrance, into her heat, my cock throbbing to feel every part of her from the inside. My thighs almost shook with tension as my control threatened to snap. I needed to take it slow. I needed to make it last. I wanted to savor every moment, and every sensation. And that's why I felt it. The slightest bit of resistance that was… unusual.

“I need you to tell me something, Songbird,” I whispered, my arms shaking with the control needed for me to stop. “Are you a virgin?”

Her eyes opened, and her brown, unfocused eyes struggled to look at me.

“Huh?”

“Are you a virgin? Tell me.” I growled the words, trying to hold myself together.

“No,” she sighed, then she shook her head slightly. “Not anymore.”

“Jesus,” I said, pulling her up to me, letting her head fall onto my shoulder as I embraced her close. “That’s not something you keep to yourself, sweetheart.”

“I didn’t want to… to… pressure you. I didn’t want to make you feel bad.” Her voice was unsteady, but still so beautiful, throaty and perfect. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s a very big deal.” I let my hand drift up her body, over the gold dress until I cupped a round breast in my palm. “Songbird…”

Her tight pussy strangled my cock. Jesus, I had to control myself.

I pulled out of her, and she whined in protest, her thighs tightening around me to keep me close. I quietly persisted, despite the ache of cold air hitting my cock. I don’t know how my dick was ever going to forgive me for the torture I was about to put him through.

“Let’s get you to bed.” I pulled her legs around my waist, cupping her lush, round ass in my hands.

“No!” Her whine almost made me laugh. “Don’t put me to bed. I’m not a child!”

“I’m coming to bed with you.” I chuckled as I kissed her, just to shut her up.

Her mouth latched onto mine as if she was scared that we’d be pulled apart at any moment. But it wouldn't be like last time. Hell, leaving her tucked in bed, alone, might literally kill me.

No, it was time. We were in the third movement of a symphony and the finale was within reach. I couldn’t back down. “But we need to do this right, you understand?”

“It’s not a big deal! I don’t think that my virtue is tied to my virginity or anything like that!” She was desperate, and willing to compromise what she deserved to get what she wanted in the moment. And maybe she wouldn’t regret it, but I sure as fuck would.

“Shh, let me take care of you, baby,” I said against that beautiful throat, to the spot where she dabbed that musky perfume. “Let me take charge for once, okay, Songbird? Follow my lead.”

“Okay.” I noted the small wrinkle between her brows. It was a small crease of concern, and maybe even fear.

I would have to wipe that away before I let the two of us finish this evening. No matter how long it took, I would do this for her.

I carried her to bed and laid her in the middle, gently letting her fall onto her back. In slow, agonizing movements, I tugged on the sleeves of her dress and let it fall to her waist. She pushed it the rest of the way, as I pulled off my suit, letting them drop to a heap on the ground.

I stood there savoring the moment. She lay back and tried to pull her hair over her breasts to hide her body from me. She even crossed her arms in front of her belly, trying to retain a bit of modesty. That made her seem more naked, not less.

“You won’t always be this shy around me, Songbird,” I told her, easing to my place between her legs. “I look forward to that day.”

I kissed her. Not a greedy kiss. I wasn’t here to conquer. I was here to protect and comfort. I intertwined our fingers as her naked body relaxed under my weight. She moaned against my mouth, her tongue darting out to taste me, and I let her. I responded gently, in kind, even as I wanted nothing more than to own every inch of her and show her that she was mine. Mine, from this day forward. Mine to save, mine to protect. Mine to love.

I could see it as clearly as I saw the gentle little freckles on her small nose. Her, in a white, lace Spanish veil, standing with a modest bouquet clasped in her hands. The vision barely had a chance to seat itself into my consciousness, when a second image appeared. Her, rounded in the belly, sitting on a couch in pajamas, her hair in a mess as my hand leisurely massaged her aching feet. She’d be cranky, and I’d be thrilled, doting on her as a husband and partner should.

All of those visions would start tonight, if I handled myself like a good man, and not a ravenous pubescent piece of shit.

“Will it hurt, or did the worst already happen?” her breathy voice teased my ear.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No,” she shook her head, the sweet little strands touching her cheek. “I just always heard that it would hurt.”

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