style="font-size:15px;"> “Mari …”
She heard the question in his voice, the concern.
“Please. Don’t stop.” She rocked back against him.
He groaned and pulled back to pump inside her again. This time there was no pain, just residual tenderness and the sweet glide of his body joining with hers. She let loose a sigh. He adjusted his position behind her and reached beneath her to find her clit. His fingers against that sensitive nub made any last remnants of discomfort fade into a memory.
“Fuck, Mari. You’re …”
The words were lost in the rushing sound going through her ears. She let her grip loosen on the desk and melted into the position. Donovan was making his own noises now—these sexy grunts and groans that were the hottest soundtrack she’d ever heard. And the sound of the sex itself was driving her higher still—slick and lewd and raw. She’d imagined what this would be like, but she’d never realized how all-encompassing it was. The feel of his thighs bumping against hers, the scent of their exertion and arousal, his rough fingers stroking her soft flesh. Every part of her seemed alive with sensation, her senses dialed to eleven.
“I’m close, baby.” His voice had gone hoarse, strained.
They were the simplest and sexiest three words she’d ever heard.
His hold went to her hips and he dragged her back on his cock now, his pace hard and intense, his need overriding all else. She could feel all that anger and hurt he’d been dealing with channeling through him, the jagged edges coming out, the need to wail on something. And it was glorious, cathartic in a way she didn’t understand. She slid across the desk, a rag doll to his strength, and her mind begin to fuzz. The pressure on her clit from the edge of the desk was driving her up another mountain.
She let loose a choked cry when orgasm crashed over her again, and he yanked her roughly against him, burying himself deep over and over until he pulsed inside her, a string of curses falling off his lips as he found his release.
He called her name. She called his. And they stayed there together until finally all the starch left the two of them and he slid out, leaving her in a melted puddle on the desk.
She let herself stay there for a moment, panting and trying to get her bearings. Then, deciding she wouldn’t test her legs and attempt to stand, she eased off the desk and sank to her knees. When she managed to turn around, she found him on the floor behind her, leaning against one of the other desks, gasping for breath along with her. Sweat dotted his forehead, his hair was in more disarray than normal, and the fly of his jeans was spread open.
She couldn’t help but look. But he’d already taken care of the condom and tucked himself back into his boxers. All she could see was the trail of dark hair that led downward. Sexy. Spent. Beautiful. She wanted to lick that spot. But knew she’d never get the chance.
She couldn’t bring herself to look at his face, but she could feel the weight of his stare.
“Tell me you’re okay, Mari.” There was something hard in his voice. Almost cold.
The shift in him sent warning bells going off in her head. She reached for her panties and tugged them on, suddenly feeling self-conscious sitting here naked from the waist down. “I’m okay.”
“Look at me.”
She forced her gaze upward.
Lines appeared around his mouth. “There was blood.”
“I—” She couldn’t get any words out.
He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the side of the desk. “Please, please don’t tell me you were a virgin.”
Fire blazed over her cheeks. She looked away and grabbed for her shorts. “Okay. I won’t.”
“Fuck.” The word was harsh in the quiet room. “Why didn’t you say something? I wouldn’t have—Jesus.”
Anger and embarrassment rose up in her like a high tide, taking her under. She tugged on her shorts. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it matters!” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Christ. How can you be a virgin? The stuff you wrote into the fantasies, the stuff we talked about …”
“Nonvirgins don’t have the monopoly on dirty minds.”
“God, Mari.” He reached for her hand and tugged her toward him. Reluctantly, she let him guide her closer. He gathered her into his embrace, tucking her head beneath his chin. “That’s something you should tell a guy. I could’ve hurt you. I would never have been so rough or done it that way. Your first time should be gentle and with someone who—”
“Who what? Who loves me?” The words came out flat. “I’m not that old-fashioned.”
“I was going to say with someone who’s worth the trouble.” His tone was hollow. “Not with some guy who’s so fucked up he can’t even sleep at his own house without panicking about people breaking in. Or who has to work nonstop because he can’t fucking function otherwise. You deserve more than what I’m capable of giving you. This is all I’ve got, Mari. A hookup.”
The words sliced through her. He’d called it what it was. It wasn’t anything she didn’t know, but it stung to hear it just as well. “Believe me. I’m not expecting you to give me a ring or anything. I like you and wanted this to happen tonight. It doesn’t have to be more complicated than that.”
He blew out a long breath. “Let me at least take you out to dinner. There’s a twenty-four-hour diner right off campus. I know neither of us is going to get any more work done tonight. We can talk.”
The offer was so tempting. Everything inside her wanted to go out with Donovan, wanted to get to know him better, wanted to keep this night going. But she’d dug the hole too deep now. She’d taken the lie too far. And this was probably only a pity offer anyway—coddle the poor girl who’d lost her virginity so she didn’t freak out over her big night being only a hookup.
She closed her eyes, the reality of the situation swamping her. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
She scooted out of his hold and stood on shaky legs. “I just can’t. I need to go.”
She hooked her bra back together beneath her shirt and grabbed her backpack.
“What?” He scrambled to his feet as he zipped up his jeans. “Mari, hold up.”
It wasn’t even her real name. How fucking pathetic had she let this become? She walked over to him and pressed the thumb drive into his hand. “Thank you. This week has been …” Everything. “Great.”
He frowned. “Please don’t leave. You don’t need to do that.”
She gave him a sad smile. “I really do.”
She walked past him and forced herself not to look back, not to let him see the truth on her face, not to let it hurt so much.
I could love you, Donovan West. Maybe she already did.
But
