Chapter 21

Jericho wanted to roar as she told her story. Some idiotic male had mounted her without even kissing her. He also understood what she was saying; he wished that all of his firsts would be with May as well. But May was who she was because of her experiences, and he wouldn't want her any other way.

He lowered his mouth to hers, "Let me show you," he said, quietly, watching her eyes for permission. Her pupils widened until her eyes were nearly black and she nodded her head.

He pressed his mouth to hers, pursing and unpursing his lips. Soon, she was following suit, her kisses hungry as she pressed her mouth to his over and over. Her hands roamed his body, grasping his biceps as if he could anchor her to earth. With each kiss she made a small sound, almost a mewling of need that went straight to Jericho's heart, cementing her place in it more firmly.

He touched her lips with his tongue, and he felt her start in surprise. He smiled against her lips, until her small warm tongue peeked from behind her lips and touched his tentatively. She teased him unknowingly, touching his tongue with the tip of hers and then drawing it back into her mouth. The next time she tried to withdraw, Jericho followed her, pushing his tongue past her lips gently; tracing her teeth, the roof of her mouth, and then drawing along the sides. He swirled his tongue in her mouth, wanting to taste all of her. Her hips arched as he sucked on her tongue, bringing it into his mouth. She began to copy what he was doing, and then, growing bolder, try new things. She ran her tongue along his lips, sucking on them and then nibbling experimentally. When she bit him harder, Jericho felt himself start to lose control.

He moved his body until he could press his entire length against hers. He tore his mouth away from hers, pressing his forehead into the pillow, "I have to remain in control," he said, "You are much too small, I don't want to hurt you."

May's body undulated beneath his, "You won't hurt me," she said, running her hands up and down his arms, across his shoulders, and then, pulling the elastic from his hair, through his hair.

"I want you inside me, Jericho," she said, gripping his hair lightly at the base of his skull and pulling him back so she could look at him. Her face was flushed beautifully and as Jericho watched, her cheeks got even brighter, "I want you to tear my clothes off and thrust inside me. I want to lose control with you and I want you to lose control with me. Mark me, make me completely yours. Take all of the bad and replace it so I can only think of you, feel you, on my body."

With each word May uttered, Jericho got harder and harder until he worried he wouldn't be able to get his pants off. He was so turned on that words left him, and all he could think was: Mine. Take. Mark.

He sat up, ripping his shirt off and then, standing to the side of the bed, kicked off his shoes before pulling down his pants.

May sat up, propping herself on her elbows. The heat from her eyes scorched Jericho, he could almost feel the burn tracing a path along his body. He put one knee on the bed before climbing toward her on all fours. She reclined on the pillows and watched him as he came closer. Her hands running along his shoulders.

"My God Jericho," she said to him, watching where her hands moved, "I hope to God you're not disappointed."

He pulled his head back, "Nothing about you could disappoint me," he told her, "You are perfect to me."

May smiled, but bit her lip nervously. He could see her thinking, could see her doubts and fears written all over her face. A thought came to him, and he wondered if it would work, if it would calm May, or pull her deeper inside herself.

"I want to try something," he said, his voice low as he pressed a kiss to her lips. May ran her hands down his back, her fingers tracing the vertebrae in his spine until she could place both hands above his buttocks.

"What?" she asked breathlessly.

"I want you to give me control," he said. He tried to instill confidence into his voice, though he was worried he had pushed too far, "I do not want you to think," he added, "I just want you to act. To feel."

He felt May's fingertips dance along his back, as if she was thinking or enumerating reasons for and against his idea. He breathed in deeply, trying to scent how she was feeling. It was as if all of her nervousness disappeared, and what filled the room was relaxed and calm.

"Yes," she answered, "please."