Cupid’s cupboard. More like Pandora’s box of horrors.
Think, think! Maybe it’s his inordinate size? Didn’t Ally say he was built like a Redwood?
I so should have let him use the rubber. I’m so stupid! I’m like some vaginal martyr. Maybe all condoms come equipped with some special lubricant that’s supposed to quell the morning after pain?
I start the shower, and my thighs shiver with terror.
“Fuck,” it comes out frail. I spot a bottle of ibuprofen and don’t hesitate in downing two with water straight from the sink. Bathroom water. Everyone knows it’s equitable with human sewage.
I gag down the pills.
I can totally envision the live amoebas swimming their way into my intestines. I can just picture them waving back at me like some happy Sea Monkey family as they go on to terrorize my digestive system at random.
Perfect. I’m going to die of parasites because I don’t know the first thing about how to maintain sanity in my nether regions. Who knew sex would be the first class I’d flunk. They should totally hold a seminar for dumbasses like me.
I hobble my way into the shower and let the blistering hot water needle over me, in an effort to take my mind off the fact a live grenade went off in my pelvis while I was innocently sleeping. I try to focus in on the curative properties of the molten lava that’s spraying over my skin, subtle as a welder with a blowtorch. And, in the event I thought scalding my skin would somehow diminish the white-hot pain throbbing inside me, I was sadly mistaken. Instead, it magnifies the fact my vaginal walls have morphed into sandpaper. I start in on a shiver. Oddly, it feels as though I’ve just dipped myself in an ice bath because my poor body is so damn confused and wounded.
The curtain pulls back, and Cruise hops in quick as jackrabbit with the Cheshire cat’s grin plastered to his face.
My hand rises to my chest. “You scared me.” I jump a little and my boobs bounce into him, apparently ready and willing to take on whatever he’s ready to dish. Traitors. They know damn well my bottom half has yet to recover from his double-edged sword.
“Come here.” Cruise swims with lust. He picks me up by the thighs and secures my legs around his back—leaving me spread wide and vulnerable to the carnage he’s capable of inflicting. Honest to God, his penis should be classified as a weapon of vaginal destruction.
Cruise lets the water spray over us as he warms me with his resolute kisses.
“Jeez.” He pulls back and reduces the heat. “Is that okay?” He smolders over me with a look of wondrous lust and my insides squeeze tight.
“Better.” I dot his wet cheek with a kiss.
Cruise rides his hand toward my thigh and slips a finger deep inside me.
I close my eyes and bury a groan in his neck. It burns to have him there but in a good way.
He repositions the nozzle, so the shower sprays against the tile.
Cruise presses me against the wall and the warm waterfall cascades over my shoulders—his mouth never leaving mine. He hoists me high over his hips and takes me just like that, pressing in achingly slow, so amazingly deep. He secures his chest to mine, digging his fingers into my thighs. Cruise glides in and out at a pressured pace, and soon the ravaging effects of last night’s love making disappear, leaving the incredible feeling of his body throbbing inside mine. He pushes in hard, sliding his thumb over that delicate area where his mouth made me wild last night and I jump. He rubs ever so gently until I’m clawing at his back—the breath pumping from my lungs—and the entire universe inside me explodes into a million beautiful pieces.
“God, Kenny.” He pants as his body quakes over mine.
I press in and feel him tremble through me as if I had just electrocuted him in the most erotic way.
My lips flutter over his ear like the trembling wings of a butterfly.
Cruise drops a mouthwatering kiss over my lips and gently bites down on my tongue before releasing. “Let’s get moving so you can get to class.”
“I’m not going,” I pant, giving an impish grin. “I’m far more interested in the things you’re going to teach me today, right here at home.”
“What do you mean you’re not going?” He ticks his head back bewildered, as if I just declared I wasn’t wearing clothes in public anymore—although, he probably wouldn’t mind that one, too much. And, really? I don’t get why he minds my private ditch day, either.
“I mean”—I pause to swipe my lips over his—“I’ve got some research to do for my gender relations class, like what makes an innocent girl like me vulnerable to a bad boy like you.” I run my tongue along his jaw and he groans, pushing himself deep inside me. I let out a cry in response to the lightning that shoots through my body.