Chapter 8: Trust

Los Angeles, California, Paradise Island Resort and Spa

"Do you trust me?"

Too nervous to speak, Diana bit her lip and nodded her head. Of course, she trusted Clark. There was no man she trusted more. He'd swept into her life a year ago, a gorgeous tide of rippling male with ocean blue eyes and midnight hair. And Diana had fallen in love. As sure as she was that the sun would set and the moon would rise, Diana knew Clark Kent would forever be in her heart.

Clark closed and locked the bedroom door behind him saying, "You're sure we'll have the suite to ourselves?"

Oh, yes, Diana had made sure.

"Donna has a whole day planned of school shopping and won't allow Mother to return until she's managed to milk every drop of money and patience out of her."

Clark gave a short snort. "Women. That little sister of yours has more shoes, clothing, and unnecessary crap than any fourteen-year old needs or should have."

Well, Diana couldn't argue with that. Hippolyta bought them whatever they wanted, took them wherever they wanted to go, and just all around spoiled them. Filling holes. That was all it was, filling a void none of them talked about anymore. But no amount of sparkling jewelry, high-end clothing, or global trotting could ever replace what they'd lost.

"It makes Mother happy to make us happy."

He frowned at her, and she could already see the stream of his thoughts. The same as some others who looked at the life she and Donna led, assuming they were nothing more than careless, carefree rich kids. Money made life easier, that was undeniably true, but it didn't inculcate a person from pain, loss, or heartache.

And as much as she loved Clark, Diana knew, even though he'd never said, that he harbored some of those less than favorable opinions of wealthy people. She'd been harshly reminded of that when she'd invited him to Miami for spring break. In hindsight, she should've known what his reaction would be. Yet she was just so excited, so anxious to have him meet her mother and stop hiding and lying and pretending that her life hadn't been so irrevocably altered by this man.

She should've given the offer deeper reflection though. Should've considered his feelings not just her own. Then he had withdrawn, and she'd felt rejected and gotten angry.

The sun blazed a path of unchallenged glory over Clark's face. The man was so handsome, so decadently tempting in his raw sex appeal. Then he smiled at her, eyes twinkling as if he could read the flow of her sensual thoughts.

"I guess because you're used to getting whatever you want that you think you can have me as well."

The warm feeling building in Diana suddenly died a quick bitter death. The words had come out as a joke, but the sharp undercurrent of disapproval and criticism had her falling onto her bed, shock and hurt in her eyes.

She stared up at him, not quite knowing how to feel or respond. Did he truly think so lowly of her . . . or himself for that matter?

"It was just a joke, Diana. I didn't mean anything by it," he stated hastily, before plopping on the bed beside her.

"It didn't sound like a joke to me, Clark. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe we should talk about this more. Maybe . . ."

She didn't know. Diana had been so sure about today. Had taken every precaution to guarantee that they'd have uninterrupted time. And they'd already talked about this, over and over. Their second summer together was nearly at an end, and she felt ready to take their relationship to the next level.

Clark took hold of her hands and spoke, voice as soft and gentle as his touch. "Sometimes I can be a big, stupid jerk. When I look at you, when we're out together and I see how other men look at you, I begin to wonder what it is exactly that you see in me. I wonder if someday you'll wake up and ask yourself why you've wasted time on a guy from Kansas."

His words ran like a poison through her. But it was he who held the toxic inside himself, he who was too foolish and blind to see and appreciate his own worth. If she could see the obvious, why couldn't he?

Diana squeezed his hand. A wave of love and pity washed over her. He was an eagle too afraid or too naïve to realize his own majesty. For all that Hippolyta had spoiled her daughters, she'd raised them to trust and value themselves, even when the world did not . . . especially when the world did not.

Diana leaned in and kissed him, a barely-there kiss that reminded her of the first time he'd kissed her—tentative and shy.

"Gwendolyn Brooks, poet. Amelia Earhart, aviator. Barry Sanders, football player. Eugene W. Smith, photojournalist. Bob Dole, politician. Dennis Hopper, actor."

"What?"

"Notables from Kansas, Clark. The last I heard, Kansas wasn't exempt from producing great men and women."

He laughed, then pulled her into a hug—fierce and hard. "Only you would know so many notable people from Kansas. I bet you could go on."

Actually, she could. Her mind worked that way, absorbing all manner of information, from the important to the inane.

"Clark Kent, novelist."

His hug deepened.

"How can you have such faith in me . . . in us?"

"I just do. Why do you lack faith in yourself? In me?"

He relaxed his grip but didn't let her go. "I don't know. I-I've just . . . I need to work on a few things." Clark pulled back, then caught her chin with his hand and lifted. "You're unlike any girl I've ever met and I don't want to mess this up. My experience with the opposite sex can be summed up on two fingers."

That was a surprise, Diana having assumed that Clark's experience far exceeded her own. Not that he came off as a ladies man, but a guy as attractive and sweet as Clark was bound to have endless female admirers.

"A couple of high school girlfriends, Diana, that's it. And they were from Smallville, so I knew what to expect from them and what they expected of me."

"And you think I'm so different?" She didn't know if he'd meant it as an insult or as a compliment.

The hand holding her chin began a languorous caress from cheek to neck to nape. "Baby, you're as different from them as silk is from beer."

"I have no idea what that even means."

His hand slipped in her hair. Strong fingers delved deep and she moaned when he bent and kissed her.

And there was nothing tentative or shy about the way Clark Kent plundered her mouth. Nothing barely-there about his passionate claiming of lips and tongue.

Wrapping arms around his neck, Diana allowed Clark to take her even deeper into the kiss, holding him tightly and never wanting to let him go. No matter what, Diana vowed, she would never let him go. He was hers, and he, too, was different from all the other guys she'd known. Guys who'd thought money and fast cars was the way to a woman's heart and into her bed.

Diana avoided men like that. Her mother had warned her about men like that. But Hippolyta had never prepared her for the likes of one Clark Kent.

The kiss heated and Diana found herself straddling Clark's thighs, her body draped over him in the most delicious way.

And he was hard.

Everywhere.

And she wanted him. That was, after all, why they were alone in her bedroom, why Diana had bribed her sister to occupy their mother for the day.

Large hands slid under her dress, up her thigh and to her backside. He palmed, caressed, and then squeezed, sending even more heat coursing through her.

"Clark," she moaned against his throat.

"Yes, baby? You want something?"

Hell yes she wanted something, had wanted it for an embarrassingly long time.

"Y-you. I want you, Clark, you know that."

She sucked his neck and ground against the ever-growing bulge between his legs, letting him know exactly how much she wanted him.

"Ah, baby, do that again."

She did, moving her hips up and down, teasing them both, making her wetter and him harder.

Before she knew it, Clark had her on the bed and underneath him. He felt wonderful there, his massive body between her legs, his weight pressing her into the mattress, his mouth wet, hot, and hungry.

Slowly, and without words, they undressed until they both were bare.

Kneeling on the bed, Diana knew she was doing nothing short of gawking at her boyfriend. If she'd thought him handsome before, without his clothes, Clark was more god than man. Her eyes dropped to that part of him she'd dreamed about being inside her, and it, too, was magnificent. Long and large and fully erect, Diana couldn't help but reach out and touch it.

Sliding one then two then five fingers over and around his girth, Diana marveled at its firmness and how it twitched each time she traveled its length.

"Yes, baby, just like that. That feels so damn good. I've wanted to have you touch me there so many times, dreamed of you doing exactly that."

Diana smiled, having feared she'd be unable to please him. She'd read plenty, sure, and her girlfriends seemed to talk about sex all the time. But talking and reading about sex and the male body could hardly compare to what she was seeing and feeling at this moment.

Clark laid them both down, him beside her.

"Are you sure, Diana? I need you to be sure before we do this."

She was touched, but they'd talked about this. They'd waited, spent another summer together just to make sure that what they'd felt last summer wasn't a fluke or their young imaginations. But her feelings for Clark hadn't waned during their time apart. If anything, her love for him had only grown.

"If you're not sure, if you have any doubts about giving me your virginity tell me now. I promise I won't be mad." He smiled down at her then patted her bottom. "I'll probably need a cold shower but I won't be mad."

Her once high school sweetheart, Tom Tresser, had said the same thing, but his tune quickly changed when Diana couldn't bring herself to take that last step with him. She'd cared about him but it wasn't enough. He'd eventually left her, the same way her . . .

"I'm sure. I want this . . . want you."

"I won't leave you if we don't. I promise; I'll never leave you."

His words went straight to her heart. How could he possibly know how much they meant to her, how much she needed to hear them, believe them to be true?

"But you're so hot, Diana. I won't pretend I wouldn't be disappointed. I'm so damn hard for you, baby. I want nothing more than to bury myself in you and make us both come."

Diana gulped at the thought. She wanted that, too.

"I'll make it so good for you, baby. So. Good."

She didn't doubt that.

"Just say the word."

His insecure eyes belied his confident words. And that was where the truth of the man lived, in his deep-set ocean blue eyes.

"Yes."

"Yes?" And there was his boyish smile—tender and vulnerable. "I won't hurt you. I promise."

"I know you won't. I trust you."

"And I won't hurt you," she assured.

He didn't answer.

Instead, he slinked down her body, kissing and licking and sucking.

God, the man's mouth was liquid fire, scorching every inch of her.

He settled between her thighs, fingers combing through the most intimate part of her. Diana closed her eyes, unable to watch what he was doing to her. But the lack of visual made it no less erotic, no less intoxicating.

"Yes, that feel so good," she moaned, Clark's fingers then mouth and tongue going on a grand tour of her womanly essence. "Sooo good. Don't stop. Yes. There."

Hands fisted in sheets and back arched, Diana didn't know what to do with herself. Her body seemed to be doing its own thing, twisting and throbbing and begging for a release she'd never known.

Holding her hips down, Clark continued his oral assault, licking and sucking until he had her writhing in pleasure, spasms coming in ragged, crooning swells that went on and on. And still he held her, still he pleased her, keeping her at the apex of her orgasm and creating flood after flood of explosions in her body, taking her from one and straight into another. And another. And another.

By the time she came crashing back to earth and located her breath and sanity, Clark had already slipped a condom on and was kneeling between her parted legs. His eyes and long pause gave her one last chance to change her mind.

She said nothing, just a trusting smile and a nod of her frazzled head.

Then he made them one. Their joined bodies transcended artificial boundaries and found mutual pleasure, mutual desire, and mutual love.

"I love you," Clark croaked as he began to move within her. "I'll never love anyone as much as I love you. Thank you for trusting me."

"I love you, too." And she wanted to thank him for giving her his trust as well, but her tongue stilled, because, in truth, Diana didn't know if he really did. She wasn't sure if Clark trusted her not to hurt him, if he'd given himself as fully to her as she was now giving herself to him.

But this was no time for thinking. Diana could think later. No, now was for feeling and what she felt with Clark inside of her was—like a real woman.

Glorious and free and loved. So very much loved.

TO BE CONTINUED