My Taboo First Time by Natalie Deschain Read Free Book Online Page A

roughly. I stumbled and fell back into my chair as he stalked up the stairs, without looking back at me. He vanished into his bedroom with a hollow clap of his slamming door, and I sat there struck dumb, staring after him until he opened them again and came out in swim trunks and ratty old sneakers with half the eyelets missing and big scratched up sunglasses. He walked past me without saying anything into the back porch. I heard the door slam. I heard the dull, distant cough of the lawn mower struggling to life with throaty urgency. I sat there in my underwear feeling the cotton clinging to my sex with my arousal and felt tears welling up in my eyes. I’d been thinking about him this way for years, and I’d always been afraid to act. I wanted him to be my first, I truly did.  
    I got up and stumbled up the stairs, pushed my door opened, and cried to the tune of the lawnmower moving through the back yard. The way the droning sound grew far and near was almost angry. I imagined him stomping through the grass, gritting his teeth and choking the bar in his hands as he walked and kicked through the grass clippings. I could feel his anger at me through the walls. Hugging my pillow to my chest, I curled up in a ball and lay there, waiting, wondering how I could possibly get past this. There was no turning back from what I just did.  
    The whole time he was outside, I lay there, thinking and over thinking, spiraling down into the depths of my own mind. I barely heard the creak of the bedroom door as his shadow passed over me onto he wall. I looked over my shoulder and there he was, bare chested and covered in sweat, his thick curls plaited to his head with moisture from the August heat. He had both hands resting on the door frame, like he was trying to push it out of his way. I turned over, still hugging the pillow to myself, and looked at him.  
    “I’m sorry,” I croaked, as if that could put it all away.  
    He didn’t say anything. He walked across my bedroom in quick strides and ripped the pillow out of my grasp and threw it down on the bed. He took my shoulders in his hands and turned me onto my back, and pushed me down hard, pinning me to the mattress. Then he leaned down and brought his lips to mine. My heart fluttered in my chest and my eyes shot open wide in shock as my mind caught up to my body. All at once I was are of every inch of skin, every part of my body, from the sheets sliding against the small of my back where my top had ridden up as I lay writhing on the bed to the feeling of the cotton gliding against my thighs as I instinctively spread my legs out under them and slid them across the bed, letting one calf dangle off the edge. His hands slid down my arms, trailing electric head behind them as they pinned my wrists to the bed. He smelled like grass and sweat and his tongue slid into my mouth.  
    I groaned back into his mouth as the kiss deepened and grew hungry, like he mean to swallow me. The aggression of it was shocking. He had my wrists pinned down next to my head as he lowered his weight onto me, chasing the chill of the air conditioned room away as the heat passed from his body into mine and pooled between my legs, thrumming with urgency. He kissed me and kissed me until I had to wriggle out from under him to breathe in a sharp tangy bite of cold air, but that didn’t stop him. When I pulled my lips away to breathe he opened his mouth against my cheek, ran his tongue over my jaw, and sucked hard on my throat. I bucked under him and my legs shivered, my knees rising against him.  
    “Don’t give me a hickey!” I begged, wriggling, struggling against his grip on my wrists.  
    “You told me to fuck you,” he growled in my ear, pressing his lips to the lobe. “I’ll do whatever I want to you.”  
    I squirmed and writhed under him but he had me. He pushed down into the bed and sprang up, pulling me with him. As I lifted off the bed he twisted and then he had me on his side, and he used his