What she wanted was what she needed. She couldn’t pretend that wasn’t the truth, and she was damn tired of trying. She surrendered to that truth; the answer came easier. “You.” That was all she had.
That was all it took.
She didn’t know how she got from the car to the bed. She didn’t remember walking, but neither did she remember Rebel carrying her. She lost her ugly sneakers and socks on the porch, her top by the door and her bra by the table. The next thing she knew, she was flat on her back and Rebel was peeling her jeans and panties off her in one smooth motion.
The cool air hit all of her hot spots—her hottest spot—and the shiver rocked her at the same time another spasm did. She convulsed so hard the whole bed squeaked dangerously.
Not that she cared. What she cared about right now, at this very second, was Rebel undressing. Her clothes might have come off in a flurry, but his were going much slower. This man, she thought, stuck somewhere between amusement and irritation. He drives me crazy.
The shirt was unbuttoned first, and she managed to keep her little noises to herself when all those muscles were laid bare again. She’d seen that before. But the pain of holding it in had her eyes fluttering, and she almost missed the best part.
God, he was so good with his hands, and he wasn’t even touching her. Just watching him undo the buckle and then the button fly was enough to bring tears to her eyes.
Oh, it hurt, hurt so deeply that the pain took over and left her unable to do anything, not a single thing a mature, experienced woman would do in a situation like this. She couldn’t suggestively offer to remove those jeans for him, couldn’t tell him that she’d roll the condom on and a whole lot more, couldn’t even say that she’d never seen a man as physically gifted as he so clearly was.
He wasn’t circumcised. Bigger than Darrin was too, to say nothing of Bryce and his immaturity personified. Bigger, but not too big.
The pain rippled out from her center and threatened to rip her in two. It hurt so bad that she started to moan.
“Wait for me,” he scolded. And then he had the condom on and was spreading her legs out as far as they would go. He crawled between them, the bed shuddering as first one knee, then the second hit the sheets.
Come on, she thought, surprised at her own impatience. She was splitting in two, right down the middle. Only he could make her whole again, and he didn’t seem to be in a huge hurry.
Come. On. Please. But the words wouldn’t come
“My,” he grunted as flesh hit flesh without a moment to spare. “My Madeline.”
And then he was inside her, and she couldn’t tell if he just made her that much wetter than she’d ever been or if the condom was extra lubricated, but he slid in with no resistance.
Everything spasmed in a blinding flash of pleasure that erased any trace of the pain. Her muscles clamped down on any and every part of him she could touch. She tried to bite back the scream and managed just to bite his shoulder.
And then she was empty.
And alone.
For a hysterical moment, she was afraid she’d dreamed the whole thing, the most terrifyingly real wet-dream she’d ever had. But then her eyes decided to focus again and she saw that he was sitting on his heels, digging around for something on the floor.
What was he doing? Getting dressed? Leaving? One fucking thrust—literally—and that was it?
What had she done?
“Rebel?” Excellent. Even to her own ears, she sounded like she was going to cry. Hell, if he was leaving, she really would break in two.
Then he stood and turned, and she saw the two condoms in his hand. “I—sorry, Madeline,” he said, his voice in that low growl that had gotten her into this position. “I just—so sorry, babe. But give me a minute.” And he crawled back into bed, back between her legs, back to where she was still slick and wet. “Just a minute.”
The light bulb went off when his mouth found one breast as his hips began to move again, and she felt as foolish as she could while still experiencing this much arousal. Technically, that was a premature ejaculation.
“Been so long,” Rebel murmured as he moved to her other nipple. He licked, then sucked in a deep breath. The cool air rushed over the wetness he’d left on her skin, and she shook. Then his mouth fell on her again, like she was the perfect tip of a soft-serve cone and he was hungry. “You were so...” Another lick, another breath, another shaking shiver. “I wasn’t ready.” He reached down between her legs and hit the spot that hadn’t split in two, hadn’t healed whole yet. “I’ll be ready this time.”
She opened her mouth, wanting to tell him that it was okay, no really, it was—words she’d said before, on a semi-regular basis to Darrin. Words she’d maybe come to believe just a little too much. But she didn’t get the chance before those hands were being so very good to her. And nothing came out of her mouth.