First night with Mr Hale

Andrea’s POV

His lips crash against mine, hard and sure. The kiss is nothing like the soft ones I imagined in my head for my first one. It is demanding. His hand stays firm behind my neck, holding me exactly where he wants me. My hands stay cold at my sides, but I do not pull away. I cannot. This is what I signed up for.

Tristan presses closer until my back hits the wall. The red lingerie feels too thin between us. His body is warm and solid, and I feel every inch of him. He breaks the kiss just enough to look down at me. His grey eyes are dark now, but still cold.

“Bed,” he says, voice low.

Before I can move, he lifts me. My feet leave the floor. In two strides he drops me onto the big bed. The mattress bounces under me. I lie there, heart pounding, staring up at him as he stands over me.

He reaches for his shirt and tears it open. Buttons scatter across the floor with sharp little clicks. The sound makes me flinch. His chest is broad, muscles tight under smooth skin. He looks powerful. Dangerous. Nothing like the boys I have seen in my old neighborhood.

I try to sit up, try to do something, anything. My hands reach for him, clumsy and unsure. I want to match his speed, to show I am not completely lost. A small sound escapes my throat, something between a moan and a nervous breath.

“Calm down,” he says, voice rough. He pushes me back down with one hand on my shoulder. “Follow my lead. That is what you are here for.”

His fingers hook into the thin straps of the lingerie. He pulls them down my arms in one quick motion. Cool air hits my breasts. My nipples tighten instantly under his stare. He does not waste time. His palms cover them, rough and possessive. He squeezes, thumbs brushing over the sensitive peaks until I gasp.

“You like that?” he asks, pinching one nipple harder.

A sharp spark shoots through me. I nod fast, words stuck in my throat.

“Answer properly when I ask you something.”

“Yes,”

“Yes, Master.” He corrects.

I swallow. “Yes… Master.”

The word feels strange on my tongue, but his eyes flash with approval. He leans down and takes one nipple into his mouth. His tongue is hot and wet. He sucks hard, then bites just enough to make me arch off the bed. My hands fly to his shoulders, gripping tight. I do not know if I am pushing him away or pulling him closer.

He moves to the other breast, sucking and licking while his free hand slides down my stomach. His fingers dip between my legs. He finds me already wet and pushes one thick finger inside without warning.

I gasp, thighs trying to close around his hand.

“You are very tight,” he mutters against my skin.

Is that supposed to be a compliment or a complaint?

Before I find an answer to that question, Tristan adds a second finger, stretching me. “Haven’t had a good fuck in a while, huh?”

I bite my lip and stay silent. 

I cannot tell him the truth. Not now. Not when everything feels so intense. He probably thinks a girl bold enough to fake her entire life must have experience. I do not want to ruin this moment.

He pumps his fingers faster, curling them in a way that makes heat coil low in my belly. His thumb finds my clit and circles it roughly. Pleasure mixes with the slight burn, my breathing comes quick and shallow like pants.

“Tell me how it feels,” he demands.

“Good,” I whisper.

He stops moving his hand. “Try again.”

I force the word out. “Good, Master.”

“That is better.” He rewards me by pressing harder on my clit. My hips jerk. He chuckles, low and dark. “Look at you. Already dripping for me. Such a good little liar.”

He keeps working me with his fingers, sucking on my nipples until they are swollen and aching. My body starts to tremble. The pleasure builds fast, almost too fast. I whimper, unsure what is happening to me.

Tristan pulls his fingers out suddenly. I feel empty. He stands up and unfastens his belt. The metal clinks. He pushes his pants down. His cock springs free, thick and rock hard, the head already glistening. My eyes widen. It looks too big. Too much for me to contain.

He climbs back on the bed, spreading my legs wide with his knees. No more slow teasing. I swallow hard, eyes following his every move. Shit. Maybe I'm not too ready for this. 

Before I'm given the chance to change my mind, Tristan lines himself up and pushes inside me with one rough thrust.

Pain explodes between my legs instantly.

“Ouch! Ow!” The scream tears out of me before I can stop it. It hurts. It feels like I am tearing apart inside.

Tristan freezes, buried only halfway. His jaw tightens. “What?”

“Please wait… ow!” Tears prick my eyes. I push at his chest with weak hands. “It hurts.”

“Andrea,” He calls carefully, a frown settling deeply between his brows, his grey eyes narrowing. “Are you a virgin?”

I nod carefully, biting my lip to keep from crying out again.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath.

He pulls out instantly. The sudden emptiness makes me wince. Without another word he zips himself up, grabs his torn shirt from the floor, and walks out of the room. The door clicks shut behind him.

I lie there on the bed, naked, legs still spread, the red lingerie tangled around my waist. Confusion and embarrassment burn through me. My body still throbs where he was. The pain fades slowly, but the shame stays sharp.

He just left. No explanation. No goodbye. Nothing.

I pull the sheet over myself and curl up tight. What happened? Where did I go wrong?