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Slowly, her eyelids part and despite the glassiness in her eyes, there’s a hint of fire reflected back at me. Neither of us say it, but I know we’re both thinking the same thing. That she just took back control of her life. That she’s not a virgin anymore, and that everything we do from now on isn’t about the will, it’s about us.
Penelope and I are practically enemies, but in this moment, I can see the trust in her eyes, and it only heightens the myriad of sensations I’m already feeling. Moving slowly, I roll my hips, sliding in and out of her in slow, shallow grinds, pulling back further each time until her minute winces fade and are replaced with tiny gasps of pleasure.
When her pupils dilate and her fingers relax, I exhale a shaky breath, relieved that I’m not hurting her anymore. Grabbing her legs, I carefully untangle them from behind my back, pushing her knees into her chest. “Hold your legs up,” I gently order, feeling my dick twitch when she immediately complies.
Leaning down, I claim her lips, kissing her passionately for a long moment, until her pussy starts to clench around my dick, silently demanding I move. A smirk tugs at my lips as I start to fuck her properly, grinding my hips as I thrust in and out of her, not as violently as I’d like but harder than I should. “Jesus Christ,” I rasp. “Your pussy is so fucking tight. You want to come on my dick, don’t you, Princess? You want me to fill you up with my cum.”
Her reply is nothing more than a garbled moan as her head thrashes from side to side. Abandoning her hold on her legs, she wraps one arm around my neck and covers her mouth with the other, like she plans to stifle her screams. If we had more time, I’m confident I could make her come just from my dick, but feeling her orgasm around my cock is more important than worrying about my ego right now. Reaching a hand between us, I find her swollen clit and rub it while I slam into her, hard and fast, taking control of her body and demanding she comes before I explode.
“Come on, Princess, scream for me. I want you to scream my fucking name while I own your cunt,” I snarl, demanding her compliance.
“Oh god,” she whines.
Straightening one of her legs, I push it back, spreading her wide as I fuck her, like making her come is a life-and-death situation. When her entire body tenses, I pinch her clit between my finger and thumb, and she comes on a scream, the sound of my name reverberating around the room. Her pussy clamps down on my dick, making me come so hard I cry out as she spasms around me. Her cunt pulses, trapping my dick in a vise grip, and I keep coming until every drop of cum is drained from me and I fall forward on top of her, panting and gasping for air.
“Oh my god,” she rasps, her chest heaving, her skin slick with sweat.
Chuckling softly, I lift my weight off her, carefully lowering her legs. Keeping her thighs spread wide, I slide my dick out of her, then watch, riveted as my cum drips from her slit. A sense of ownership barrels through me, and I both love and hate it at the same time.
Rolling beside her, I drag her to me, needing to have her close to me while our breathing settles and our bodies cool from what is easily the most intense sexual experience of my life. I’m half expecting her to pull away and distance herself, but instead she burrows into my arms, clinging to me as she lets me comfort her.
My eyes fall on the camera still recording at the end of the bed, and I grab the remote and turn it off. Neither of us speaks. There’s nothing to say, so instead I lift my hand and run my fingers through her hair, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Closing my eyes, I pull her close and focus on enjoying this moment with her, because I know it’s only a matter of time until it’s over.
6
PENELOPE
I don’t know when I fall asleep, but when I wake up, my body feels sticky with a mix of dried sweat and the remnants of me losing my virginity. I had sex with Hawthorn Benedict. Hot, strange, painful, wonderful, world-ending sex.
I’ve known for years that I wasn’t going to get to have the casual sexual relationships normal people my age have. Despite the romanticized fantasy I’d dreamed about, I’d known it was unlikely that I’d be in love with the first person I shared my body with. I’d assumed it would be awful, that I’d be nervous and emotionally distanced from the act, that it would just be one more thing I’d endure to abide by the rules of my inheritance.
But what just happened with Hawthorn was nothing at all like I’d imagined. Unlike most people my age, I’ve never allowed myself the opportunity to really explore my own body or discover what made me feel good. Before today, I’ve never touched my own vagina in any way except to wash. Since the age of fourteen, I’ve been consumed with fear that I’d do something and accidentally break my hymen. I’ve never used a tampon or ridden a horse or a bicycle. I don’t do strenuous exercise or anything that anyone has ever even hinted could cause my body to rupture that all-important piece of skin, because if it broke before I had a wedding ring on my finger, everything would be ruined.
And now it’s gone.
Today I didn’t just lose my virginity, I gave away all of my firsts. First kiss, first orgasm, first time being touched in any way outside of a doctor’s or aesthetician’s office. And I gave them all to Hawthorn. To a boy that I don’t like, who doesn’t like me. And despite how clinical it could have been, it wasn’t. He made me orgasm so hard my entire body shook, and he didn’t just do it once, he made me come four times. He took the time to touch me, to tease me, and make sure that I took pleasure from an unpleasurable experience.
The actual sex part hurt, at least at the start, but by the end it was amazing, so unlike anything I could ever have imagined, and now my body feels sore and relaxed all at the same time. Inhaling slowly, I breathe in the scent of his skin beneath my cheek. I shouldn’t be cuddling with him, but when he pulled me to him, I couldn’t resist taking the comfort he was offering.
I’m his enemy, but here, naked, cuddled into his chest, all I feel is an overwhelming sense of warmth and security and peace. But soon this will all be over. My virginity is gone, and no matter how much I’m enjoying this moment with him, I can’t allow myself to forget that this was just about breaking the will, no matter how close to him I feel right now.
For years, I thought I’d be able to compartmentalize sex into just another rule to be followed, just one more item to be ticked off on my great-grandfather’s will, but I was so incredibly wrong. What Hawthorn and I just did is something I’ll never forget. I had no idea that I could feel so consumed, so…owned. He told me he wanted to own me until this was over, but I’m not sure he intended to claim me quite as deeply as he did. Because even though I barely know him, I’m not sure I’ll ever get over never feeling this way again.
Closing my eyes, I bask in the way it feels to be enclosed in his arms, then I promise myself that in five more seconds, I’ll move. As much as I wish I could stay here like this forever, I can’t. So, in four seconds, I’ll get up, take a shower, and wash my body clean of him, then I’ll leave. For three more seconds, I luxuriate in the warmth he’s surrounded me in, keeping my breathing steady and even, desperately trying not to wake him. For two more seconds, I get to pretend that he doesn’t hate me, that he doesn’t know how terrible a person I am. And for one, excruciating second, I get to pretend that we had sex, that I gave him my virginity because we care about each other and not because I literally didn’t have anyone else I could ask.
When my time is up, I don’t allow myself any more. I’m the villain of the story, and the bad guy doesn’t get to live in a fairy tale with a happily ever after. They get their comeuppance. They suffer and have to face the consequences of their actions. There’s no point pretending this is real, even if I wish it was.
Carefully, I peel my naked body from his, holding my breath until I’m free of his arms. My body aches, and my limbs are slow to act as I slide off the edge of the bed, wincing at the burning soreness between my legs. I know I shouldn’t, but I allow myself a single look at Hawthorn. Instead of his peaceful, sleeping form, I’m surprised to find his eyes open and watching me. Neither of us speaks, and our gazes stay locked while I collect my discarded clothes from the floor. I feel his eyes on me, right until I break the connection, closing the bathroom door between us.
Turning on the shower, I lean up against the door while I wait for it to warm. Stepping beneath the torrent, I close my eyes and let the hot water wash away the blood and dried semen from my inner thighs. Squeezing soap into my hand, I coat my skin, cringing at how beat up I feel considering all I did was lie on my back and let him do all the work. An embarrassed blush fills my cheeks as I remember the things he said and did to me. I’m used to money hungry boys who all look at me as nothing more than the key to a billion-dollar fortune. None of them care about me. None of them are interested in seducing me or romancing me. I’m simply an asset in a business deal, just part of the negotiation.
But Hawthorn didn’t treat me that way. I asked him to take my virginity. He could have just fucked me, but he didn’t. He told me he wanted to be in charge, and I eagerly agreed because the thought of leading an act that I’m entirely clueless about would have been mortifying. But he didn’t make me feel stupid or naïve. He taught me what I liked, he showed me how to feel good, and despite how messed up everything else is, I’ll never forget that.
“I’m going to own you, Princess. Until this is over, I want your soul to belong to me. I don’t want you to even think unless I’ve told you to do it. I want you mindless, boneless, and consumed. I want to hear my name fall from your lips and have it be the only thing you know how to say, because the only thing that exists to you is me.” His voice drifts into my head, and I have to swallow past the lump in my throat and the surge of arousal that pulses through my sore pussy.
He told me exactly what he wanted from me, and he did exactly what he said he would. He owned me, even if it was only for a short while. The scary thing is that I think a small part of me will always be his now, that when he took my virginity, he took a tiny part of me with it, and I’m not sure I’ll ever get it back, or if I even want to.
Turning off the water, I search for a towel, eventually finding a pile of clean, black, fluffy ones in a closet and wrapping one around myself. I allow myself a moment to panic over everything else I still need to do before the day is done. Then I dry myself off, redress in the clothes Hawthorn and I bought this morning—minus the panties that he boldly put in his pocket—and walk out of the bathroom, faking a bravado that I don’t feel.
