Chapter 9 I Lost My Virginity 2
Brea's POV
“I want to see all of you,” I said, and this time it wasn’t a lie at all.
Rayne’s eyes darkened, but not just with hunger. There was something else there, something almost frightening. He took a step back, not away from me, but like he needed space to breathe. His hands flexed at his sides.
“Brea…” His voice was rough, barely above a whisper. “I’ve never done this. Not once. Not with anyone. I’m..I’m a virgin.”
The words landed between us like dropped glass, sharp, fragile, impossible to ignore.
My breath stopped as heat rushed up my neck, my cheeks, my chest. I opened my mouth, closed it, then forced the truth out before I could overthink it.
“Me too,” I said softly. “I’ve never… I’ve never been with anyone either.”
His gaze snapped to mine. For a heartbeat he looked stunned, like the confession had rewritten the air around us. Then something shifted—relief, maybe, or recognition. Like we’d both just admitted we were standing on the same trembling edge.
“You’re serious?” he asked, voice cracking just a little.
I nodded, suddenly shy in a way I hadn’t been a moment ago. “Completely. I’ve never even… I mean, I’ve kissed people, but nothing more. Nothing like this.”
He exhaled a shaky laugh that sounded more like relief than amusement. “Gods. I thought I was the only one who’d made it this long without—” He stopped himself, rubbed a hand over his face. “I’ve wanted you for so long it hurts. But I’ve never let myself imagine actually… doing this. With anyone. Let alone you.”
I stepped closer—slowly, so he wouldn’t bolt. “Then let’s not imagine anymore.”
He searched my face for a long moment, like he was waiting for me to change my mind. When I didn’t, he reached out—hesitant—and brushed his knuckles along my cheek. His touch was so light it made me shiver.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said again, quieter. “Not your ribs. Not… anywhere else. I don’t even know if I’ll be any good at this.”
“I don’t care if we’re good at it,” I told him honestly. “I just want it to be us. Together. First time for both of us.”
Something in his expression softened, cracked open. He leaned down and kissed me—slow, careful, trembling at the edges. It wasn’t the fierce claim from before. This was exploration. Learning. Both of us were shaking.
His hands found the tie of my robe again. This time he didn’t rush. He tugged the knot loose inch by inch, letting the fabric fall open like he was afraid to startle me. When it slipped off my shoulders and pooled at my feet, he sucked in a breath.
“You’re…” He swallowed hard. “You’re so beautiful it doesn’t feel real.”
I felt exposed, but the way he looked at me, like I was something miraculous made the vulnerability feel safe instead of scary.
I reached for his shirt. My fingers were clumsy with nerves; he helped me pull it over his head, then stood still while I traced the lines of his chest, the faint scars, the way his muscles jumped under my fingertips.
When I tugged at the waistband of his pants, he caught my wrist gently.
“You sure?” he asked.
“I’ve never been more sure,” I whispered.
He nodded once, then shoved the fabric down and kicked it aside. We both froze for a second, staring at him, suddenly I was very aware of how empty I felt.
He guided me down to the training mat he’d pulled over earlier. It wasn’t comfortable, but neither of us cared. He knelt between my legs, eyes locked on mine, and just… looked. Like he was memorizing every inch.
“Can I touch you?” he asked, voice low and reverent.
“Please.”
His fingers were careful at first tracing the crease of my thigh, then higher, brushing over the soft curls, then finally parting me. When he found how wet I already was, he made a broken sound in his throat.
“You’re… soaked,” he breathed. “Just from this?”
“From you,” I corrected, cheeks burning. “From everything.”
He explored slowly, circling my clit with the lightest pressure, then dipping lower, slipping one finger inside.
“Oh…” slipped out of me before I could stop it.
He gave a nervous laugh.
“Is that… good ‘oh’ or bad ‘oh’?”
“Good,” I breathed. “Really good.” I was tight, untouched, and the stretch was strange and perfect at once.
“Does that hurt?” he asked immediately, freezing.
“No. It’s… good. Strange, but good. Keep going.”
He added a second finger after a minute, moving carefully, watching my face the whole time. Every time I arched or whimpered he paused, asking without words. I nodded each time.
"Yes. More. Don’t stop." I said when my hips started rocking against his hand on their own, I reached down and wrapped my fingers around him.
He jerked hard, a low groan ripping out of him. “Brea....wait—”
“I want to feel you too,” I said. “I want to know what you feel like.”
His eyes fluttered shut for a second. “I’m already so close just from touching you. I don’t want to finish before we even…”
“Then we’ll go slow,” I promised.
I guided him to my entrance. The blunt head nudged against me, hot, slick, intimidating. We both stopped breathing.
“Look at me,” I whispered.
He did. His eyes were wide, pupils blown, still faintly red at the edges but so unmistakably him.
“I’m scared,” he admitted in the smallest voice I’d ever heard from him. “Not of you. Of messing this up. Of it not being… enough for you.”
“It will be,” I said. “Because it’s you.”
He pressed forward, just the tip. The stretch burned, sharp and full. I sucked in a breath; he froze instantly.
“Too much?” His voice cracked.
“A little. Just… wait. Let me breathe.”
He stayed perfectly still, forehead pressed to mine, trembling with the effort of holding back. After a few heartbeats I nodded.
“More.”
Inch by inch he sank inside. It felt endless pressure, heat, the strange intimacy of being opened for the first time. When he was finally seated fully, hips flush to mine, we both let out shaky breaths.
“Oh gods,” he whispered. “You feel… I can’t even—”
“I know,” I breathed. “I feel you everywhere.”
We stayed like that for long moments, just joined, breathing each other in, hearts hammering against each other’s ribs. Then he kissed me softly, trembling and started to move.
Tiny rocks at first. Testing. I gasped. “Ahh...”
He did it again. A little deeper.
The wet sound started then—soft pah… pah… as he pulled back and slid in again.
“Ahhh—yes—like that—” He found a rhythm, slow, careful rolls of his hips. Each thrust dragged new sparks through me. The sounds grew louder: slick pah-pah-pah, my breathy moans, his low groans.
“Feels so good,” I whimpered. “Rayne!....ahh...harder… please…” He groaned, hips snapping a little deeper. “Like this?”
“Yes...ahhhh...oh god...right there—” The angle changed; he hit that spot again and again. My thighs trembled. Wet slapping sounds echoed off the stone..
ah-pah-pah-pah! mixed with my increasingly desperate cries.
“Ahh...Rayne, I’m ohhh...I’m gonna”
“Me too,” he rasped. “You’re squeezing me so tight...fuck, Brea”
His thumb found my clit—clumsy circles, but perfect. Pleasure coiled unbearably tight.
“Ahhhh...Rayne...don’t stop—ahh—ahh—ahhhh!” I was shattered. My whole body clenched around him, pulsing hard, wave after wave. I cried out—loud, broken,
He didn’t. He kept that same devastating angle, hips rolling, breath coming in ragged pants against my throat. His fangs grazed my skin, not biting, just resting there like an anchor.
“I’m...” he choked out. “I’m not going to last. You feel too good. Too tight. Too..”
“Me too,” I gasped. “I’m close. Come with me. Please.”
That broke him. His thrusts turned uneven, desperate. One hand slid between us, thumb finding my clit and circling, clumsy but earnest. The extra touch sent me over.
I came with a sharp cry, body clenching hard around him, pulsing in long, rolling waves. He groaned my name like it hurt, hips snapping forward one last time before he buried himself deep and spilled inside me, hot, endless, trembling through every pulse.
We collapsed together, shaking, breathless, still connected.
He didn’t pull out right away. Instead he gathered me close, careful of my injuries, and pressed his face into my neck.
“I love you,” he whispered, so quiet I almost missed it. “I’ve never said that out loud before. But I do.”
“I love you too,” I answered. “And I’m glad it was you. My first. My only.”
He exhaled a shaky laugh against my skin. “Mine too.” I said as I held him tightly and slept off.
I woke up with my eyes still closed. When I finally opened them, it was my worst nightmare.
“No… not again.”