Authors: Shey Stahl
Eventually we broke
apart, gasping for breath but Dylan, eager for me, moved his mouth down my
throat, his arms around me keeping me securely on his lap, they clung to me
tighter straining me down on his erection as he shifted his hips to meet mine
again.
“Not in here,” he said
pressing his face into my skin, his cheek stung against my cool skin, fire and
ice, just like I knew him to be.
His hands slipped under
my dress though, an indication he didn’t want to stop, his palms slipping
further until they reached my underwear and yanked hard as they ripped from my
body.
Dylan didn’t stop
touching
me,
he knew that we needed it like this. It
was time. The teasing, the provoking, the jealousy, it was time. We couldn’t
take it any longer.
“Stop,” he begged his
voice just as rough as his breathing. “Don’t do this in my car. Let’s go
inside.”
I didn’t move or say a
word, instead, I kept moving against him until he grabbed my hips firmly but
with gentleness he always had when touching me.
“Please brown eyes,” he
begged helplessly, “not like this.”
Pulling my hair to the
side, he used his teeth against my neck, barely brushing but enough to make me
moan, his lips hovering over my ear. “Please let me do this right, for once in
my fucking life, let me do something right.” It was then that I noticed he was
crying again, silently, begging, loving, but it didn’t matter.
I could feel him
against me, hard, straining against his jeans, he wanted this but he also
didn’t want it in his car, something he swore he’d never do. Something he said that
I was better than. But after tonight, my actions, I wasn’t any better.
My hands moved from his
shoulders to grasp my dress and before he could stop me, I tore it from my
body, needing, loving, wanting everything he was now giving regardless if he
was begging me to stop.
Dylan
gasped,
his mouth hot against my skin. Keeping one arm
around my back, he struggled to rip his flannel away and the t-shirt underneath
over his head. My eyes followed the lines of his muscles and the ink that
tattooed them, seeing cuts from the glass in the bar. Dylan didn’t give me much
time before he reached for my thighs and then he was pushing me away.
Only he wasn’t saying
no, his words were, but his body wasn’t. He grabbed my hips and turned us both,
laying me across the seat, his knees spread my legs, and his hands worked on
his belt buckle hastily and then unzipped his jeans. All the while, his eyes
were on mine, dark, pleading, wanting, lusting, and hurting. “Tell me no, don’t
let me do this,” he begged again pushing his jeans down to his knees, trying to
fight his desire and need for this too.
I didn’t listen. I
couldn’t listen. Seeing him fight because of me, for me, did something to me
and I wasn’t taking no for an answer tonight. I had to prove to him that we
needed this. I needed this.
“Just fuck me Dylan,” I
pleaded through tears, my hands sought what I needed between us. When I grasped
him firmly, he groaned, his head falling forward and it sounded like he was
starving. “That’s what I want.”
He planted his right
hand firmly on the back of the seat, his other rested by my head as he tried to
maneuver himself closer, the muscles in his chest flexing and contracting with
each movement. His legs moved trying to gain room we didn’t have on the front
seat of his car.
His head dipped
forward, his arms shaking, his entire body shaking as he leaned in.
Meeting my stare, his
eyes were regretful, on edge, raging. “Fuck,” he sighed shaking his head, hands
trembling, “please stop me.”
I didn’t.
Pressing his weight
forward, his hips in contact with mine, no barriers, and his eyes dropped to
between my legs, watching.
I think a lot of things
in that moment. Sunrises, sunsets, rain, summer, ice blue, the ocean, the sea.
With the window down,
the rain pelted my face and Dylan begged me again. “Don’t brown eyes,”
Pushing my hips up, I
slid against him and it was over. He gave in.
I could feel the
change, passion, desire, burning fucking desire took over.
In the dark, rain
soaked
innocence,
I never thought my first time would
be like this, in his GTO. His name was in the back of my throat, pleading, as I
swallowed.
“Brown eyes,” he
whispered,
his tone like iron, a steel gate that holds the
barrier between us emotionally.
I was scared for what I
had done, what we had done. I was scared of this dangerous love, of the burn
and of the desire I couldn’t let go of, the hurt, all of it. I was scared.
Steading his weight,
his hips shifted again, shaking and then he pushed.
It was gone. My youth,
my innocence, my perfectly planned life was gone when he pushed because I
pushed, we pushed, until there was nothing left but what was right here,
wanting, shaking, loving.
It hurt.
It burned.
I was scared.
I couldn’t breathe but
yet when I felt that connection, I could finally breathe.
I couldn’t control the
sound the escaped me when he was finally inside me. He moaned, his back arched
and his head fell forward further until his body came to rest above mine.
Moaning again, I could feel the desperate tenor vibrate my soul and the shake
that started in his hands above me holding
himself
steady shuddering through to his shoulders.
“Fuck,” he whispered.
“This is wrong. Tell me to stop.”
But I didn’t.
Rocking against me,
tight burning pain was all I felt but he was there, over me, weighted and
loving, giving me what I wanted despite the pain, despite me pushing him into
this.
I didn’t want him to
stop, ever, through the pain, the burning, the
aching,
I never wanted him to stop.
“Don’t stop Dylan,
please don’t,” I panted against his cheek and my eyes squeezed shut.
He moved quickly
letting go of the hesitation he had. Leaning down a little closer, flushed
cheeks
, I could taste the blood from his lips on mine as he
kissed me, hard but slow, deep, speaking for his desire he hadn’t let go of. I
closed my eyes, holding on to his as tight as I could, my hands slipping from
his shoulders from the rain soaking us. My legs started to shake wrapped around
him, my feet resting against his jeans that were wrapped around his calves, the
muscles in his legs flexing with the movement of his hips.
When he gave me all his
weight, I felt him tremble, his movement tensed, sped but slowed at the same
time. “Fuck,” he breathed gripping me harder, rocking faster, deeper, the pain
spreading like fire.
My head fell back, the
rain mixed with my tears, and Dylan’s mouth captured my cries of pain and
pleasure. Pulling against his shoulders, I brought my head back up, my
lips found his collarbone, sliding across the weight sweat and rain soaked
skin.
Grass, heat, summer, I
felt him everywhere, all around me.
Our lips brushed, I
tasted the blood again and Dylan gasped into my mouth, his hips moving faster.
This angry, loving, boy who held my heart in his talented hands, taking my
innocence, gave me himself so deeply I could taste him everywhere.
We were in over our
heads, I knew that, he felt it, he believed it but still, here we were, living
in moments, loving dangerously.
There was a moment when
I forgot to breath, it happened when he breathed in, taking the air from my
lungs, and I felt him between my legs, harden, moaning so lowly that I thought
he was hurting, maybe he was but then his breathing changed, panting, gasping
and unsteady.
“I love you,” I
whispered over my heartbeat pounding in my ears and the rain outside.
“Forever.
Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”
It was the first time I
had said those words but they went unnoticed. I’m not sure he even heard me.
Dylan held me so close
I cried out, his nose brushed against mine. “Never,” he promised shaking his
head slightly.
“Never brown eyes.”
“Dylan,” I panted into
his mouth, my legs burning, my body burning, taking and giving everything I
had.
I didn’t realize that
he’d stopped his movements until I felt him gasp again, his breathing beginning
to even out but not making any movements.
Dylan touched his nose
and forehead to mine. Kissing my top lip, my bottom one, his breathing slowed.
He blinked, his eyes
trained on mine, wanting, loving, needing. “You were made to love me,” he said
against my lips.
“Only me.”
“I know,” I whispered
again, kissing his top lip, his bottom one, just like he did mine. “I do love
you. Please kiss me, please, please—”
His lips were on mine
before I got the third
please
out. He kissed me with his tongue and his
lips, and I could feel his heart beating in his chest, thumping hard and fast
against my own.
My entire body went
limp into him. I could hear myself crying against him.
I sunk into the seat
and let go. Overcome and overwhelmed, I could hear myself crying and I could
feel myself dissolving around him, but I could hear and feel him, too. The
weight of his body relaxed, but the weight of his despair was so much worse.
He was giving me what I
wanted, but he wasn’t feeling it. When I looked at him, his face told me so.
While I had his body, his lips, his hands, his voice, I don’t have his heart
right now. While he was whispering to me, the energy behind his words is empty.
Settling my face into
his neck, I wrapped my legs around him desperate to make him feel something.
“It’s okay,” he said,
aching with need but then again, words were empty. “It’s okay.”
Barely breathing,
barely moving, he held me tight, kissing my neck again.
He told me he loved me,
chanted it even but then he was back to begging me, wanting me to believe. And
then he looked at me, really looked at me, his hand on my cheek as his
movements become harder. “Don’t forget, only you.”
18.
Dangerous Love – Bailey Gray
All I could focus on,
besides Dylan begging me to stop, was how badly it hurt. Those girls that say
they have orgasms the first time are
lying
sacks of
shit, at least in my mind they were. It burned, it was uncomfortable and it
hurt.
Nothing about it felt
good.
Let’s be real here. It
was awful. He was drunk, we had just been fighting and his body was a mess.
I remember Mercedes
telling me how sweet her first time with Kasey had been and the candles and all
that shit. Was my first time like that?
Nope. Not even close.
But Mercedes could have been lying to me too. After all, she did that a lot.
Honestly though, I
wouldn’t have changed it.
We were still in his
car, our clothes had been replaced but we hadn’t moved. It’d been two hours and
the sun was starting to rise over the hill behind Drew’s house. All the lights
in their house were off, I was sure Megan, and him were in there somewhere.
Dylan flicked the
cigarette butt out the window, his body shifted to lean against the door but he
looked at me, wounded, his face sad. “Did you want to kiss him?”
“No, I didn’t. He
kissed me and it shocked me. Before I could react, the damage had been done.”
His eyes were deep,
voice raw from my actions, his hurt, my hurt, the hurt we couldn’t stop now.
His hand rested over the steering wheel, shaking, his eyes rimmed with tears,
red, puffy.
“I can’t lose you,” he
whispered, his eyes closed, guarding. “I constantly fuck up.”
“You won’t, I’m here.”
“Are you?” Ice met
fire. “Are you really here? Do you understand what we’ve done?”
“I’m sorry, I meant it.
I want you.”
“You’re sorry?” he
laughed, his mood darker than before vindictively twisting. “Show me then.”
“How?” my voice was a
whisper, cut-deep, bleeding, an open wound ready for salt, his salt, his tears,
his anger.
I got my answer when
his hands moved from the wheel down to his belt and unzipped his pants.
He was hurting, I know
that and this was his way of showing it, making me feel his pain by inflicting
pain.
I had never been afraid
of Dylan but I was right then. I was afraid because of what we just did and now
he was forcing my head in his lap.
When it was over, I was
crying and he knew what he’d done. It hit him about as hard as that kiss had
hit me, seeing firsthand the consequences your actions cause.
“I fucked up, right?”
he asked, looking down at me. “I fuck up too much?”
“No.” I touched his
face. It was a lie, the only lie I’ve ever told him.
What I just did, what
he asked me to
do,
it was his way of getting back at
me. He did fuck up. I shouldn’t have been treated like that. He knew. So another
guy kissed me. Did I ask for it? No.
I let him reach for me
and pull me into his lap, his buckle digging into my hip. The hardness between
his legs was starting to soften but he hadn’t adjusted anything. He was still
hanging out of his pants only now I was sitting on him.
“Do you hate me now?”
“No.” I shook my head
meeting his stare. “I could never hate you.”
“You could,” he said
dropping his eyes. “You could hate me.”
Deep down, it was a
warning I should have took notice in.
“Will you come inside
with me?” he asked lowly, a whisper.
I nodded but said
nothing and followed him inside, through the dark house, into the room at the
end of the hall we were staying in.
“You know, this isn’t exactly how I imagined it.” His hand twisted
through my hair and he pulled my head closer to him, kissing my forehead when
we
laid
on the bed. The morning light was filtering
into the room now matching his ice blue eyes.