He flipped me over and started tickling me as I erupted with laughter.

“I’ll give you fucking performance anxiety,” he said, then grabbing my hands he threaded his fingers between mine and held them above my head.

“Are you sure?” he asked seriously. “I wanted this to be special.”

“It is special,” I reassured him. “It will always be special.”

He nodded as though I’d convinced him and released my hands. Stripping at the speed of light, he rescued a condom from his wallet as he chucked his clothes over the side of the bed. Slipping it on quickly, it was clear that he’d practised this many times before. I could feel my self-confidence wavering again, until he stopped and stared at me, like he was trying to memorise every inch of my face. Leaning forward gently, he kissed me like it was the last time he’d ever see me. That was what this felt like. When you loved someone, every kiss was your first kiss and your last, and I hoped to be giving my last kisses to O’Connell forever. His clever calloused hands cupped my calf then purposely slid their way up my leg. His plump pink lips, swollen with our kisses, captured my bottom lip between them and nipped gently as he cupped my arse and rubbed me against him. All traces of languidness were gone, and as if my body was his to command, I was on fire again. We devoured each other with our kisses, and I knew that I’d never be the same after this. He knew exactly what he was doing when he reached around to stroke me tenderly. Slipping a finger inside me, he moved slowly in and out, timing each thrust with a gentle rub of his thumb.

“O’Connell, I can’t,” I panted. “It’s too much.”

“Shall I stop then?” he chuckled.

“No! More please.”

“Ah, now there’s the begging that I was looking for.”

I was too turned on to be pissed at him for gloating. He moved his fingers away to settle the tip of his cock against me, and I inhaled sharply. Sliding his fingers through mine, he held our hands above my head and looked deeply into my eyes.

“Are you sure, baby? It’s not too late to stop,” he reassured, gently.

I loved him even more for asking me even though I was pretty sure that his balls would explode if I stopped now. I kissed his bruised lips gently in answer to his question and tilted my pelvis to slide the tip of him into me. Groaning, he closed his eyes as the ecstasy of the moment hit him. He slid home slowly, letting me get used to his size. He was so huge that it was uncomfortable at first, but a few thrusts later, he was hitting every right spot that I’d ever read about. He looked so much like he was in pain that I whispered, “You okay?”

He chuckled nervously. “You’re so tight, baby. I don’t think I’m going to last.”

As my pleasure built, he moved faster inside me. When he let go of my hands, I ran them over his muscled back, relishing in the fact that someone so strong and fierce could be so gentle with me. Every movement intensified the sensations between us, and I felt like I was climbing some invisible wall without being able to see the top. His tender touch skimmed my hip then he reached between us to stroke me. Right at that moment, he sucked gently on the lobe of my ear and whispered, “I fucking love you, baby.”

His words lifted me over the wall, and I came hard, seeing bright and brilliant stars all around me. With a hoarse shout, O’Connell came straight after, my orgasm tipping him over the edge. Covered with a thin sheen of sweat, he was shaking hard as he looked deeply into my eyes.

“I never knew it could be like that,” he admitted. “I’ve never made love before. Now I know the difference.”

He laid his head down on my chest and fell asleep to the beating of my heart as I ran my fingers softly through his hair. His breathing, deep and even in the empty room, gave me more peace than I’d ever known.

THE HOUSE WAS EERILY QUIET as I let myself in from school. Mum was always home. She never left the house. Frank wasn’t due back for another couple of hours so I could breathe easily until then. In that precious time between my finishing school and his getting home from work, I showered and washed my hair. I always did anything that necessitated taking my clothes off when he was away. If I could have gotten away with only showering at the swimming pool, I would have. It wouldn’t be for long now. Acceptance letters to different universities had started arriving at Mrs. Wallis’ house and by September, I would have figured it out. Mum and I didn’t exactly see eye to eye. In fact, I’d be hard pressed to remember the last time we’d had an actual conversation. Not since Dad died had she made any effort to engage with me. If it weren’t for the fact that she plated a meal for me every night and washed my clothes, I would have sworn she thought that I’d died with him. Maybe it would have been better if I had. Still, she was my mum and indifference was better than abuse so I wasn’t leaving her behind. When the time came, Frank would come home from work to find that we’d disappeared. I’d take Mum with me to the furthest university that I’d been accepted to, get a student flat, and hide her away with me until I graduated. Maybe I could even convince her to get a part-time job to help with the bills. It would do her good to mix with people again. I dropped my messenger bag by the front door and kicked off my shoes as I wandered into the kitchen to get a drink. I didn’t even bother looking for Mum. She’d be around here somewhere. I looked out of the patio doors into the garden, and the shock of seeing the rage-filled reflection in the window was enough to make me drop the glass, before I felt the burning pain from being yanked backwards. The glass of juice shattered spectacularly against the tile of the kitchen floor, but that was the least of my worries. Frank had bent my arm back at an unnatural angle and was frog marching me to my room. When we got there, he threw me roughly to the floor and slapped me hard across the face on the way down for good measure. I cried out at the slap but held back the tears; they only spurred him on. He relished in my pain. He stood over me, madder than I’ve ever seen him, just staring. I kept my head bent, just praying that my beating would be over quickly. Eventually, he leaned over and slapped me again as he turned away. Frank liked to slap. It was humiliating and demeaning. Personally, I think that he just liked the satisfying sound it made when his palm cracked against my skin. It seemed too good to be true that this was all the punishment that he had to give out today. He stalked over to my bed and grabbed a piece of paper.