Page 66 of Shame the Devil
It felt so good, it hurt. He couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t …
He forgot to be slow. He forgot to be careful. He took her hard.
He made her come, and then she kept on doing it, and he was slamming into her like a wrecking ball, his arms wrapped tight around her thighs, his voice groaning out her name. And when he was finally there …
He honestly thought he was going to die.
28
Everybody’s Fine
She couldn’t catchher breath.
Harlan was still over her, but he’d slid up and lowered himself down to kiss her. Deep and hot and possessive, the same way he’d felt inside her. She tasted herself on him, and despite the two most mind-blowing orgasms of her life, just tasting that, and knowing he wanted her to, made her go even more warm and liquid inside.
And then he rolled off her and said, “Shit.” And not in a I-can’t-believe-how-good-that-was way. In an I-just-bounced-a-check way. Which was not what she’d been expecting.
“What?” she asked, and tried to joke, even though it didn’t feel one bit funny. “No good, even with all those rules?”
He said, “Condom broke.” And she realized that the liquid wasn’t just arousal. It was … liquid.
“Hang on,” he told her, and headed into the bathroom. When he came back, he was holding a hand towel, and she was struggling up to sit. Which wasn’t easy, because her foot hurt. A lot.
“Here,” he said, put an arm behind her shoulders, and helped her up. “Don’t move. I’ve got it.”
He wiped her down and cleaned her up, his touch gentle, something that should have embarrassed her, thatwouldhave embarrassed her, but how could she be embarrassed after all that? He asked, “How’s the foot?”
“Hurts,” she admitted.
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m not surprised. Where are those pills the doctor gave you?”
“In my bathrobe pocket. I don’t think I should take them, though. I don’t want to get … stupid again.” In fact, she felt a little like crying. She’d thought, in some part of her, that he’d hold her, would cuddle her and kiss her and tell her she was beautiful. She’d thought this would be romantic, even though she’d known that wasn’t what they were doing here.
“You won’t,” he said. “This is an NSAID. Non-narcotic. It’ll make you sleepy, that’s all.” He switched on the bedside light, found the little sample pack, and shook out a pill, then handed it to her with a glass of water. “Drink the water, too. Bleeding’s dehydrating.” All business.
She pulled her bathrobe the rest of the way out from underneath her, tried to get it on without hurting her foot, and couldn’t. “If you’ll help me with this,” she said, hearing how tight her voice was coming out and unable to make it be any other way, “and help me back to the new room, wherever it is, we can both get some sleep.” She’d shared enough today. She’d shared too much. She wasn’t going to let him see her cry.
“Jennifer,” he said, his hand on the robe, not helping her put it on, “what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I wanted sex. I asked you for sex. I got sex. Nothing’s wrong. And don’t worry. I’ve been on the pill.” She’d missed a couple in there right after the breakup, in the sort of, “What’s the point in this” that tended to happen, but she’d taken an extra one as soon as rational thought had returned. She didn’t tell Harlan that, because there was no point in that, either. Instead, she said, “And Mark—my boyfriend—I’m sure he didn’t cheat. Cheating would have required effort. You’re safe from me.” Which all sounded bitter, but she was past caring.
He was looking worried anyway, no matter what she’d said. “Hey,” he said. “Come here.” He pulled her into him, and she resisted for a minute, but then she went. His arms were around her, her head was against his chest, and in his arms was a solid place to be. He didn’t say anything, and neither did she. She just breathed in his scent, tried to get her emotions under control, and failed completely.
He said, “Hey. Hey, now,” and rocked with her some. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
She was choking up. She couldn’t stop it happening. “See,” she tried to joke, “this is why I don’t have …” She had to breathe to get the words out. “Casual sex. How embarrassing. I think I’m supposed to get dressed after you fall asleep, and then slip out of the room. I only know that, though, because … movies. I told you. No experience.”
“Shh,” he said. “Come on, now. It’s OK.” He was petting her hair, his touch so soothing. “It’s been a rough day, and sex can bring up some emotion.”
“There’s a word for it,” she said, trying to be rational. Trying to be the kind of woman who could be blasé after that kind of experience. Trying to be a woman she absolutely wasn’t. “I can’t remember it, but it means, ‘Sad after sex.’ I read it in an article. It’s never happened to me, though. Maybe because it’s never been that … intense.”
“Maybe we don’t have to know the name,” he said. “Maybe we just shifted gears too fast. Maybe we just have to hold each other a while.”
“Except that you’re not sad.”
He kissed her hair and held her tighter. “I could be a little sad.”
Because it had been just this once, he meant, and they were done. She got it.
