Firsts (12 page)

“Sorry, love,” Thorn murmured, licking her clit. “I was gonna lose it.”

The all-consuming body tremors had started again. “I…thought…that was a good thing?”

Savannah offered, before her voice rode out on a moan.Gah , it seemed difficult to think ofanything with his mouth performing miracles against her flesh. The teasing hints and licks disappeared; rather, he drank her with desperation she didn't recognize. His fingers slipped inside her in a flash, stretching her, pumping into her, filling her…Oh yes… His lips and tongue took over her clit, sucking and pulling, doing that head-waggy thing that sent vibrations through her insides and fanned the fire burning within. A second ago, she'd been on a path toward something she couldn't yet name; now she practically sprinted for it.

“OhGod .”

“Mmm,” he agreed, releasing her with a wetplop . “Fucking right. You have any idea how hot you are? How fucking good you feel?” She managed to pry her eyes open, having not realized they had fallen closed. Thorn's attention was thoroughly taken with the wet plunges his fingers took into her pussy; he only glanced up to tell her, “Could spend all day here. Watching this. Watching you swallow me. You're so pretty. Stretching around me, taking me in, and you're all mine.All mine.”

“Mmmm,” Savannah murmured. “Why…why did you…?”

“Told you. I was gonna pop. Wanted you so long… Had you… Couldn't hold off. Need you to come first.” He dived for her clit again, drawing her into his mouth and massaging her with furious intent that betrayed his own need.

This time when her body unwound, he didn't wait, didn't ride out the waves with her. The second he felt her tremble, Thorn was on her, over her, nuzzling her throat and easing his cock inside her again.

“Oh yes,” he murmured, his hips beginning their dance. “Fuck yes.”

“Thorn…”

“Sorry, love.” He raised his head just enough to smile into her eyes. “Know you wanted to be on top. Just couldn't help myself.”

Words fell away the next instant, leaving her awash in sensation. Her body was on a high, ripples of pleasure splitting her apart and welcoming Thorn's desperate thrusts as he barreled toward his own release. The bedsprings whined and wheezed, the headboard banging recklessly against the wall only barely overwhelming the wet slap of their bodies smacking together.

Savannah gasped and clawed, her nails raking down Thorn's arms, her hips rolling up against him every time he pulled away. Her body was exhausted but famished at the same time. For everything he gave, she wanted more.

“Yes,” she murmured. “Ohhh…God.”

“Savannah, Savannah, Savannah…” His fingers pried between them, settling on her swollen clit. It felt so good it hurt, but she couldn't bat him away. “So good.”

“Gahhh…”

“Wanna feel you come again. Think you can come one more time for me?” He played her slowly, his strokes featherlight. “Want you to strangle my prick.”

Oh God, he would to kill her, but she hadn't the strength or the will to fight him. “Thorn…”

“I love you.” He kissed her brow. “I love you.”

Some words were spoken. Those words lived.

And it served as all she needed to spiral again into orgasm. This one came from nowhere: no buildup, no burn, nothing but a spontaneous explosion of ecstasy, her vaginal muscles clamping hard around him, squeezing him so tight, he nearly became a part of her. She heard him roar but didn't follow the words, and when his body tightened, she threw her arms around him and held him against her breast as he spilled himself inside her.

The world stilled after that, leaving only their harsh breaths in the wake of what they had shared. Nothing mattered at the moment. The world would still belong when they returned to themselves. Pleasure had rendered Savannah a dizzy mess, Thorn's words inspiring her with giddiness that would have frightened her once—once, but never again.

“Oh God…” Thorn murmured, dropping a kiss upon her lips. “Savannah…”

She grinned and ran her fingers through his hair. “Was I worth the wait?”

A beat. Then he smiled one of his smiles, kissed her again, and whispered, “Sweetheart, you're worth anything.”

Pure, unadulterated happiness—happiness unlike anything she'd ever experienced or even thought shecould experience—spread through her body. They would have nothe end ; instead they had crossed one barrier, but a thousand others lay before them—things they would get to share, things they would experience together. And in looking at him, she believed his faith in the words he spoke. He gave her nothing but the truth.

It was enough to make anyone, jaded and youthful alike, burn with hope…and burn she did.

An adventure awaited them on the road ahead.

In the meantime, though, Savannah enjoyed the silence.

He was gentle with her, almost hesitant, so worried he would cause her pain. He massaged her thighs and back so long, she fell asleep and awoke her an hour later with a soft kiss, and letting her know he'd drawn her a hot bath to ease the soreness in her muscles. Around nine o'clock, they remembered Thorn's father would arrive home at any time and made quick work of gathering the appropriate things for a weekend of decadence at the abandoned Evans home.

There, they watched a movie, ordered a pizza, and fell asleep on the couch.

The next morning Thorn suggested they see what their friends were up to. He didn't necessarily want to; nerves commanded him. He refused to push for too much too soon. They had, after all, onlyjust arrived at this point. The future remained theirs to explore, and he felt no rush.

All that aside, he couldn't help but drown with relief, among other things, when Savannah took off her clothes and suggested they spend the day in bed…though she said she might want a massage first, which Thorn was more than happy to give. He should have known not to assume anything…not with Savannah.

She always had the best ideas.

They'd had many anniversaries, each celebrated in their own special way. Their first real date, their “coming out” to their friends and family, their engagement and wedding, but there was one that would always stand out against the others. One they celebrated with a bit more gusto and enthusiasm.

The eve of that anniversary loomed, and Thorn could barely contain himself. Perhaps his impatience would have seemed cute on other nights; tonight it just annoyed Savannah.

“What do we need?” Savannah asked, rolling out the shopping cart as they began their normal route around the grocery store. “I forgot to make a list.”

“Whipped cream.”

She rolled her eyes. “Thorn…”

“I'm serious, love.”

“That's not until tomorrow.”

He shrugged. “We can't be prepared?”

“I think between the new lingerie, the candles, the dozen roses you ordered that I'm not supposed to know about, and that video we made last year…” Savannah's head ducked; she had not realizing her voice had carried to the elderly couple currently surveying the medicine aisle.

Her cheeks burned, and she quickly averted her eyes, directing the cart toward the produce. “I think we're prepared,” she concluded.

Thorn smirked appreciatively. “There's always room for whipped cream.”

“Right idea, wrong slogan.”

He shuffled. “Come on, love. If not that, then at least some chocolate sauce. I'll let you lick it off my—”

“Thorn!”

“That's the idea.”

Her blush deepened. “We're in public!”

“Can't help that.” He slid his tongue over his teeth in the way he knew she liked, and immediately Savannah shivered and pressed her thighs together. It seemed unfair how quickly he pushed her buttons, how he knew what looks or gestures could render her into nothing but a needy mess.

Damn man.

“Savannah,” Thorn whined, bouncing on his heels. “I want whipped cream.”

“We're here to get groceries.”

“Whipped cream's a grocery.”

“Real groceries, Thorn,real groceries.”

He paused and arched a brow. “Are you implying it doesn't exist in the real world?”

She huffed under her breath. “Well, that's just ridiculous. Come on. Stop pouting and help me pick out things we need.”

“Ten years is a big deal,” Thorn pointed out, selecting a head of lettuce and giving it a once-over before tossing it into the cart for good measure, as though to say,There, I contributed . “And here I was thinking we could make it really special.”

Savannah threw him a glance. “It is going to be special,” she said. “It's always special.”

“Special enough to last all tomorrow?”

She paused, frowning. “But you have that—”

“Canceled.”

“Canceled?”

He nodded. “And rescheduled.”

“You rescheduled your meeting?”

“'Course I did.”

“Why?”

Thorn's eyes widened. “Why?” he echoed, then snickered and shook his head. “Because ten years is a bloody milestone, love. One I thought you'd want to celebrate in style. Figured we could”—his brow perked, his gaze roaming suggestively down her body—“when we get home.”

At once, Savannah's heart thundered. “Home? As in…home?”

“The place where we live, yes.”

“Tonight?”

“And into tomorrow. All bloody day. Big anniversary and all.” His eyes burned a second longer before he blinked and stepped back, hands coming up in mock surrender. “But if you wanna be all business, I understand.”

Savannah sighed as she felt her defenses fall to nothing. He could undermine her so quickly, have her trading in rational thought for something spontaneous. But then, the little things like this only fed her love for him, had it growing by leaps and bounds every day they lived together.

He was so considerate; his hunger never quenched; and with every second she spent with him, she wanted an eternity more.

Ten years later and he still stood at her side. At times, she still couldn't believe it.

“Whipped cream, you say,” Savannah mused.

Beaming, Thorn nodded enthusiastically, plucking a package of cheese off the shelf and tossing it in beside the lettuce.

“And chocolate sauce.”

“What my girl wants, my girl gets.”

“And our anniversary starts…”

“Right here if you want. I'll whisk you into a corner.”

Savannah licked her lips and shook her head. She would never say the thought didn't tempt her, but that phase seemed lodged in the past. Well, mostly. One recent indiscretion stuck out in her mind… Three weeks ago, when he'd looked way too yummy at the dance club. “Let's go get the stuff.”

“The stuff?”

She nodded. “And hurry, 'cause I'm suddenly itching to get home.”

Thorn pitched her a winning smile, moving forward and seizing her arm. Their cart stood abandoned, lettuce and cheese and all. They didn't need it to carry what they'd truly come to buy.

Even they didn't need that much whipped cream.

Rosalie Stanton

Rosalie Stanton lives in Springfield, Missouri with her husband. She has a degree in Creative Writing, and when she’s not writing up a storm, she spends time with friends, enjoys brainstorming sessions, and does her best to live life to the fullest. Rosalie loves hearing from readers, so feel free to write her [email protected] .