Prologue
His hand glides up my bare stomach and my back stiffens.
“Relax, Lexi.” His breath warms my neck as his lips skim along my jaw.
I take a breath and hold it for a moment, staring at my dress laying on the floor. A soft light glows from the bathroom. Close your eyes, Lexi. Concentrate.
His movements are slow, trying not to startle me, but the slowness only feeds my anxiety.
One of his hands slides behind my back while the other reaches around to unfasten my bra. His fingertips skim across my bare back as he lowers the straps over my shoulders and down my arms. He leans back and smiles at me, a soft, tender smile full of hope and worry. He lifts his hand to my cheek, his thumb rubbing my skin. “How are you doing? Okay?”
I nod, trying not to shake.
Brandon strips his shirt off in one fluid movement before he kisses me, keeping his hands on my arms. I think I can do this. We’ve made out countless times and I’ve enjoyed it. More than enjoyed it. I think about those times now, allowing myself to get lost in the moment, lost in his arms and his mouth and the sensation of our bare skin pressing together. I wrap my arms around his neck and cling to him, the familiar shot of electricity and need shooting through my abdomen to my core.
Sensing my new eagerness, he lowers me onto the bed and lies next to me on his side. His hand moves from my arm to my stomach again, his forearm resting on my hip. Lying on my back has me on edge, and the pressure he’s putting on my hip fuels my anxiety. My breath comes in shallow pants.
I can do this. I have to do this.
His mouth is on mine again, his tongue running over my bottom lip then slipping into my mouth, exploring and coaxing my own tongue to join it. And then his hand is pushing under the lace of my panties, his fingers finding the spot that makes me ache for more. I try to focus on his mouth and his hand and ignore the panic. Surely both sensations—amazing on their own, incredible combined—can cancel out my fear. And for a few brief minutes, they do. I glory in the carnal need that races through my blood. Maybe I can do this. Maybe I can be normal.
His fingers withdraw from their pursuit, hooking on the edge of my waistband and tugging the scrap of lace over my hips and down my thighs.
I shimmy and help guide them down and he tosses the lingerie to the floor alongside my dress.
I’m completely naked and he’s only in his boxers, and I want to cry with happiness. I’m comfortable with our nakedness and I want to see more of him. Feeling more confident and in control, I offer him a soft smile and reach for the waistband of his underwear. He helps me pull them down his legs and as he kicks them off, I’m reaching for him, taking the length of his erection in my hand.
Brandon moans and rolls on his back as I stroke him. I feel empowered by my lack of panic. We’ve never gotten this far before. I usually freak out before my panties come off, and then turn the focus onto his pleasure. I’ve gotten him off multiple times—so often that wrapping my hand around him is a familiar act. But the fact that both of us are unclothed and I’m not freaking out is encouraging.
It’s apparently encouraging to him too. His hand covers mine. “Stop or I won’t last much longer. I want to be inside you when I come.” He wraps his fingers around my wrist and pulls my hand away, pushing it to the bed next to my shoulder. In the same movement, he rolls to his side, his mouth finding my breast as his other hand slides between my legs.
My elation washes away and I feel trapped.
No. No. No.
I refuse to give into my fear. Brandon is a better guy than I could ever hope for. He’s been infinitely patient with me, but I know this has been difficult for him. How emasculating is it when your girlfriend freaks every time you try to have sex with her?
He’s concentrating on his task and I can tell he’s taking my breathlessness as sign of my mounting passion.
Focus, Lexi.
His pressure eases on my chest and when I open my eyes, he’s moving to the end of the bed, positioning himself between my legs. His mouth replaces his hand and I gasp, suddenly feeling free again. I lean my head back against the pillow as his tongue does things to my intimate parts that I never dreamt possible. I’ve never had oral sex before and I’m caught off-guard—in a good way—at the intensity of the sensation.
Brandon reaches a hand up to my breast and the trapped feeling is back. I bat his hand away instinctively. He takes the hint and grabs my hips, lifting them for better access, and I release a low groan, surprised at the growing need for something more from him.
Unexpectedly, his mouth is gone and I gasp in shock, opening my eyes to see why he’s stopped. He’s on his knees, rolling on a condom. Seconds later, his mouth returns and I’m panting with need.
And when I’m close, so incredibly close, writhing at the mercy of his tongue, he quickly slides his chest up my abdomen and over my body. I’m still flushed with desire when he buries himself inside me, groaning my name as his mouth skims my neck.
His body presses mine to the bed and all desire flees, replaced by unadulterated panic.
No, Lexi. I plead with myself. No. It’s Brandon. He would never hurt you.
And for a brief moment, I calm down even though nausea is brewing in my stomach. I try to participate, but I’m too busy focusing on not throwing up. Brandon’s lost in the moment, his tempo increasing. I try to move with him as I bite my lip, tears stinging my eyes.
My chest feels tight and I struggle to take a breath. I have no idea how much longer I can keep it together. Based on all the times I’ve given him a hand-job, I know he should be done soon, within a minute.