The Virgin Promise

By: Penny Wylder

“You okay?” he asks. “You left really quickly, I thought you might be sick or something.”

“,” I say, grasping for the words. I’m certainly not going to tell him I was just spying on sex. I keep my voice low so the people inside don’t realize I’m right outside the door. “I’m fine. I was just looking for my friend.”

There’s another moan from inside the room. This one is louder and very, very audible. Carter’s eyes go wide, and I see him notice the proximity between the door and me. A smirk crosses his face. “That’s not what I would have expected.”

“Oh?” I’m suddenly nervous, a little embarrassed, and stretch my fingers out and curl them into fists—an old nervous habit.

Carter crosses the hall to me, peeking through the crack in the door above my head. “You didn’t strike me as someone who just likes to watch.” His voice is soft like mine now. “Anyone who dances like that wants to be in on the action.”

My face turns red, as it seems to have a terrible habit of doing around him.

He holds up his hands. “But hey, everyone has their thing. Maybe yours is watching from behind a door.”

Anger bubbles up, quick and fierce. “That is not my thing,” I hiss under my breath. “I don’t have a thing.” Here, this close to him, those same thoughts rise to the surface. What would it be like with him? He’s hot as hell, and I wouldn’t mind feeling him touch me again. I have the sudden urge to prove to him that I’m not someone who lurks in doorways watching other people get off.

I move without thinking, pushing up onto my toes and pressing my mouth to his. His body freezes against mine. He wasn’t expecting it, and neither was I. I’m just as frozen as he is, our lips locked together. Then Carter moves all at once. He kisses me back while his arms come around me, practically lifting me off my feet to bring me closer.

Wow. This is a kiss. It’s not my first kiss, but this one makes every other one I’ve had seem like nothing more than a peck on the cheek. It reaches deep, stirring up feelings I’ve never had before. Carter’s tongue sweeps across my lips, and we open to each other. Everything feels bigger, deeper. It’s consuming. There’s nothing my body wants more than to be closer to him. To feel his skin on mine. To feel him inside me—

That thought brings my brain screeching to a halt. I want him. I don’t just want to kiss him. I want other things with him. I’ve been training myself for so long to shy away from this, I can’t even bring myself to say it in my head. But deep down I feel settled. I know that this has been coming for a while. The older Kara and I got, the more I was the one shying away from our pact.

Carter is staring at me, and I realize that I stopped kissing him. I’ve been staring at him, processing just how much I want to have sex with him. For him to—I force my brain to say it—fuck me. Kara always told me she wanted it to be special. Candles, roses, a wedding dress.

I may not have realized it until just now, but I don’t want that. I don’t want it to be like some movie where the act of having sex for the first time is treated like some precious ritual. No. What I want is for it to be real. I want it to feel good. I don’t care about where. I just want the other person to crave me as much as I do them.

“You okay?” Carter asks me for the second time tonight. This time his voice is rougher, eyes dark with what’s left of our kiss.

I am okay. I’m more than okay. But I don’t have the words to tell him that. Instead, I choose action. I press my lips against his again, tangling my tongue with his. Carter groans, pulling me with him down the hall to another door. He pushes it open and we stumble through, barely managing to stay upright, each unwilling to let go.

This room is empty and utterly dark as he kicks the door closed behind us. The air suddenly feels charged, like the energy we’re sending back and forth to each other is filling up the space around us. Carter pulls me against him and we fall onto the bed together.

Every closeted desire I’ve had comes racing to the surface, and I can’t get enough. I have my hands in his hair and I love the way he moves his mouth to my neck, sucking at my skin. His lips feel like fire, sending burning pulses through me that echo all around and land between my legs. I’ve never been so close to someone like this and every touch feels bigger than it is. Carter’s hands are under my shirt, and my body arches into his touch, wanting to go faster, further. I’ve already gotten rid of Carter’s shirt, and my hands explore his body. I was right—it’s perfect, and I’m annoyed that it’s so dark in here and I can’t see what must be practically a work of art.

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