Page 164 of Till The Sun Dies (Checkmate 2)

“You’re completely sure?”

She wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me down. “I refuse to leave our bed until we’re together. The way it was always supposed to be.”

“You’re gonna fuck me into submission?”

“God, I hope so.” Her lips latch onto mine.

The second her tongue slides past my lips, I pick her up and move through the room. I don’t have to dodge mess. I don’t have to step over piles of clothes. Laine is an impeccable roommate. No mess.

I move straight to our large bed and lower her until her back is flat and her legs drop from my hips. Climbing over top of her, I stop and study her.

“I’ve thought about this.” I slide my tongue along her jaw. “You. Not just any girl, butyou. I’ve dreamt of blonde hair and blue eyes for a long fucking time.”

Her hips move beneath me, desperate for touch, but scared of what that might mean.

Clumsily, she pulls my shirt up and tugs it over my head, her eyes heatedly scanning my chest as she tosses the shirt aside. Arching forward with a wicked grin, she takes my nipple between her lips and drags a guttural groan from my chest.

“Ah! Fuck, Laine…”

“Yeah.” Despite trying to hold my weight up so I don’t crush her, she pulls me close until we touch core to core.

Jesus, this is going to be quick

“Make love to me, Ang. Please don’t ask questions. Don’t ask me to overthink it. Love me and show me how it was always supposed to go.”

“Are you sure?” I pull back. She said not to ask, and yet, I can’t just take. I can’t risk her regretting this. “We don’t have to do that. We can just kiss. It’s okay.”

“I want it all,” she whimpers. Her strong thighs manipulate my hips so my hardened cock slides over her clit and creates ripples that roll through her body. “I want everything, Ang. I’m not dirty, I promise.” Her eyes fill and break my heart. “I went to all the doctors. They made sure I’m not dirty.”

“Hey. No.” I brush her hair away. When a gentle tear slides over her cheek, I lean forward and collect it with my lips. “You’re not dirty. You’re perfect. You’re perfect exactly the way you are. Don’t question that ever again, okay?”

“Okay.” Her breath hiccups out. “Alright.” Reaching between us, she works on my belt, yanks the leather from my jeans, and tosses it aside; she tosses it so far, I know she’s nervous. I know she still carries scars from what happened to her.

The way she throws my belt says she doesn’t want to be bound.

I fucking loathe him.

Unsnapping the buttons on my jeans, I move to my hands and knees when she uses her feet to clumsily work the denim over my hips. Resting over her, with an unobstructed view of the gift I get to unwrap, I vow to slow this down and truly show her what unhurried lovemaking is like.

The hem of her dress sits high on her hips, and when I finger the red lace panties, pulling them down just an inch, I grin at the tiny tattoo. Whether she’s nervous, scared, or sad, her panties are still wet, which eases my worries.

She’s scared, but she still wants me.

I slide my calloused hands along her silky-smooth thighs until she breaks out in goosebumps, and when I come back to the delicate lace covering her most private parts, the breath shudders out of her chest.

She nervously licks her lips, but when our eyes meet, she shakes her head. “Keep going. Please, keep going.”

“I’m gonna show you what it feels like to make love.” Leaning onto my elbows, I press a kiss to the front of her thigh, then another just where her panties meet her legs. “I’m gonna be gentle, and when we’re done, you’ll love me, too. You don’t have to be scared.”

“I’m not scared.” She swallows hard, proving her statement false. Scared doesn’t mean unwilling; it just means she’s giving herself the chance to forge forward, to be brave enough to face her fears. “Think of me like a virgin, rather than an abused woman. Be gentle like I’m a virgin. Go slow. But don’t think of me as a victim.” When I slowly peel her underwear back, her hips start moving restlessly. “But go kinda fast. Don’t drag this out.”

I laugh. It’s a nervous, desperate plea for the universe to help me out. “Please don’t regret this.”

“I won’t.” She lifts her hips, allowing me to peel the lace down and off her legs. I stop on her heels, the cute little buckles flashing in the lights coming through the balcony glass. I pull one pump off, and dropping it to the floor, slide my tongue along her pebbled flesh as I remove the second.

I sit on my haunches at the end of the bed with the girl I’ve dreamt about for years. Her legs splay open, her dress pools at her hips, her eyes,terrified, but determined to push on.

“I’ll be okay, Ang.” Sitting up, she hooks me around the back of the neck and pulls me over her. “The waiting is torture. The worrying. The unknown. I’m not a delicate flower, but my nerves are eating me up. Make love to me, put me out of my misery, then we’ll work out the rest later.”

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