Seventeen

EVERETT

My heart is racing, and even though I’ve imagined this moment thousands of times in the seven months I’ve known Cora, I’m thrilled at how wrong I was. Nothing could have prepared me for tasting her lips and breathing her air. Old men on death’s doorstep tell their great grandkids about this: the time they kissed a woman who buried herself into their very soul.

It’s not our first kiss, but I can savor this one. Her lips are soft against mine, and a touch of mint and a hint of tequila linger on my tongue. My hands slide down her back, feeling the softness of her skin under her robe. I drag them along the robe’s tie, moving to the simple knot in the front. When I tug, she doesn’t stop me.

She doesn’t stop me.

I can feel the moment when my self-control abandons me. I peel open her robe like a present—and find every heavenly inch of Cora’s naked body: silky skin and gold piercings and everything I’ve spent seven months yearning for.

“Oh, princess,” I murmur before my mouth crashes against hers again. Her hands are everywhere—and mine are too. I cup her breasts. I thumb the bars in her nipples. And when I lower my hand to her pussy and find it wet, puffy, and ready, she nods.

I start unbuttoning my shirt with hurried fingers. “Condom?”

“IUD,” Cora replies while she takes the initiative to wrench open my jeans. “Clear?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Yep.”

Beaming from the anticipation of fucking Cora raw, I tug my undershirt over my head and fling it across the room.

“Jesus Christ,” Cora blurts out, taking a step back and pressing her hand against her bare chest. “Why—seriously, for what fucking purpose—do you need a body that looks like that ?”

I glance down at my shirtless torso and back at her. “I just look like this.”

Her expression is incredulous. “Nobody just looks like that.”

“My diet is clean, I bike every day, and I hike.” I drum my fingers on my abdomen and grin. “You like it?”

“You’re definitely gatekeeping something. Blood sacrifices, I bet,” she replies before she’s back on me, skin against skin. “I need you inside me.”

Her hand slips into my boxer briefs and wraps around my cock, giving me a warm palm and a firm grip. She begins at the base and gives me an upward stroke.

I’ve waited so long for this.

Cora handles a cock like a woman confident in her prowess. I love it, really. Confidence. Eagerness. She touches me like she’s about to use my dick as one of her toys—and I’m more than willing to let her.

She moans before she gives me another stroke, bringing her hand from the base to the tip of my cock—and she freezes.

And I do too.

… Shit .

Typically, I don’t make mistakes.

I’m renowned for preparation. Measure. That renown doesn’t come from thin air; it comes from a near-sterling track record of coordination and organization. I have contingencies for contingencies. Strategies. It’s the way I was trained—the way I was bred.

…but I admit, I didn’t think this part through.

Horrified, Cora releases my cock. She takes a step back from me, looks down, and her jaw plummets.

“Princess,” I begin, watching her carefully and willing her to listen—to give me a shot to fix this. “I can explain—”

But Cora shakes her head and her eyes travel upwards. When they lock onto mine, her glare is nothing short of rage—and betrayal.

“When the fuck did you pierce your dick?” she shouts.