The Soldier's Poisoned Heart (True Love and Deception) (Victorian Historical Romance Book 1) (24 page)

He marvels at how soft she is. Her skin feels like silk.

“Take me, Max.” Tiffany pulls up her skirt. Her panties are wetter than before.

Max slides her panties down her legs and then climbs up to her. Tiffany unbuckles her best friend's belt and pulls his pants down, her eyes never leaving his cock. It's larger than she expected, just a bit larger than average. A bead of sweat falls down her neck.

Max wraps his hand around his manhood and pumps it a few times, trying get it even harder. “I'll go slow,” he says. “At first, at least,” he adds, a sly grin on his face. He places himself against her entrance, savoring her virginal heat before entering her and pushing past that last layer of skin.

Tiffany gasps with the small jolt of pain, but then it subsides before Max has even pushed himself in all the way. By the time his balls gently tap at her ass cheeks, she's gripping Max's sheets and moaning loudly.

Her inner walls ripple and move with her moans, showing off her desire. Her muscles try to pull him in deeper. As Max pulls out, they protest.

He pushes it back in slowly, and pulls out again slowly. The third thrust is faster. Tiffany screams as his cock hits her in just the right place, and Max does his best to do it again. His thumb rests on her clit between them, rubbing with each thrust, giving Tiffany even more pleasure.

Her legs are wrapped around his hips. His hands are holding onto her hips tight, pulling her down onto his cock quickly. His balls are starting to tighten, and he know he'll cum soon.

That's when Tiffany finally explodes, her orgasm filling the room with a shrill shriek and then panicked gasps. “Oh fuck, oh fuck! Don't stop Max!”

And he doesn't. He keeps fucking Tiffany until he explodes deep within her and then, allowing the liquor to finally win over his body, he rolls over and passes out next to her. The last thing Max remembers is Tiffany wrapping her arms around his chest and whispering, “It was better than I imagined.”

With a headache and drool on his pillow, Max slowly is brought back to the conscious world. Still laying down, he pulls his knees up to his chest to stretch his glutes, turning his head to look around the room. There, next to him, is Tiffany, her makeup smeared but still beautiful.

“Morning, Rich Boy.”

His breath catches in his throat. Realizing with a sinking feeling in his stomach that his dream wasn't a dream at all. Tiffany is laying next to him, one eye smeared with eyeliner, a sleepy smile on her face. She leans in and kisses him and a chill runs up his spine. The kiss feels nice, but it's wrong.

Tiffany has always been more of a little sister to him. There's so many things keeping him from even considering her romantically. For one, she comes from a poor family and her parents hold his wealth against him. For another thing... she isn't Charlotte.

“Did we...?” He asks, too scared to finish the question he already knows the answer to. Tiffany cocks her head to one side, her red hair falling in tangled waves down her back.

“Did we have sex?” She clarifies. “Yeah, we did. You were my first.”

Oh, God. I took her virginity and now I have to somehow explain to her that this wasn't ever meant to happen.
A bead of sweat slips down Max's forehead before dripping from his nose. Tiffany watches him for a moment, suddenly realizing this won't be the happy moment she was hoping for. No, he's not going to suddenly want to date her.

“We don't have to be awkward about this,” she says. She smiles as casually as she can muster, hoping that it will fool Max.

“Okay,” he replies.

“I'm fine with taking our friendship to the next level, or not. It's like, whatever, right?” She says. He wishes he could give her what she wants, but he can't. He doesn't feel that way about her and never has. Max's heart sinks. How is he supposed to let this beautiful woman down?

“Tiffany, look.” He stops and thinks, the pause long and awkward. He starts again. “Things with Charlotte are complicated but, you know. And you know that we probably can't ever work, since your family hates me.”

Max can't bear to look at her while he's crushing her heart in his own hands. Instead, he picks at his fingernails, and then at the callous on his palm from weight lifting. He hears her sniffle but still doesn't look up.

The bed shifts as Tiffany stands up. She gulps down the bile in her throat, the taste of battery acid that always accompanies being let down. This taste is one she knows better than the taste of alcohol. “Hey, Rich Boy, that's fine. I meant that our next step could be like, friends with benefits or something. What did you think I meant?” She tries to choke out a laugh. It almost sounds convincing. “Anyway, I have work in a little bit, so I'm gonna go. Text me next time you're at the club.”

She covers her breasts and looks around the room before opening up Max's shirt drawer. “Gonna borrow one of these, okay?”

Max nods and looks away again as she slips his shirt on over her head. It swallows her, the bottom of the shirt going well past the bottom of her leather skirt. Glancing at her, Max catches her wiping away one tear and then fluffing out her fake red hair in the mirror.

“Later,” she says, sounding cheerful.
How does she manage to sound like that?

“Later.” His voice isn't much more than a whisper.

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