A Deal With The College Playboy

14. A Night To Remember

ELLIE

I was going to hyperventilate. No seriously, I was going to actually collapse right there in Beck's damn living room because my brain had decided to sprint through every single possible way this night could go wrong. Condom tears? Check. Me screaming like a dying animal because I had no idea what the f**k I was doing? Check. Accidentally elbowing him in the face mid-kiss? Triple check.

What if I farted? Or worse, what if I accidentally called him by the wrong name in the heat of the moment? Like, screamed out "Mom" or something horrifying from a Freudian nightmare? My mind was a catastrophe factory, churning out disaster scenarios faster than I could shut them down.

And yet, none of that mattered because Beck was standing in front of me, taller than sin with broad shoulders stealing all the air, and he'd just said we should move this upstairs. My brain flatlined completely, and it was like someone had hit the off switch, leaving me staring at him with what I could only assume was the dumbest expression on my face. His eyes (those stupidly intense blue ones) were locked on mine, waiting for me to say anything that didn't make me sound like a total i***t.

"You okay?" he asked, his tone soft and almost teasing, but not cruel. There was a gentleness there that made my stomach flip, like he actually gave a s**t about whether I was freaking out or not.

"Define okay," I croaked, because apparently sarcasm was my only lifeline at this point. It was either that or dissolve into a puddle of anxiety on his carpet, and I wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of seeing me lose it completely.

He grinned like the cocky bastard he was, his dimples flashing in a way that should be illegal. Those dimples had been my undoing more times than I cared to admit, like back in sophomore year when he'd first smiled at me in the hallway (turned out he was smiling at Tyler behind me), or last summer at the lake party we'd both happened to be at, when he'd offered me a beer with a smile. Now, they were just mocking me as he said, "Don't worry. I'm not gonna eat you alive."

"Wow, that's comforting. And totally reassuring. Now I'm definitely not terrified anymore," I shot back with my arms crossed to hide how much I was shaking. My hands were clammy and my palms were slick against my elbows, and I prayed he couldn't see the tremor running through me like an earthquake.

He stepped closer, lowering his voice to that husky rumble that always made my knees weak as he said, "Ellie, you don't have to pretend. I know you're nervous. It's your first time, right?"

My throat locked up. I wanted to lie. I wanted to act like this was just another Friday night for me, like I'd had a line of guys before him, each one more experienced and forgettable than the last. But I couldn't. He saw right through me, and lying to Beck felt pointless, like trying to hide from your own shadow. Besides, what exactly would I gain from lying to him?

"Yeah," I muttered, avoiding his eyes. I stared at the floor instead, feeling like a little kid sitting at the adult's table. I hated how inexperienced I was compared to him, and how obvious it was that I didn't know what I was doing.

He reached out slowly, brushing his knuckles over my jaw so lightly that it was infuriating. The touch sent sparks across my skin, like static electricity on a winter day, but warmer and more deliberate.

"Then we will take things slowly," he said. "You call the shots, and we stop the second you want. Deal?"

God help me, that actually made me want him more. The words alone wouldn't mean anything, because anyone could say that. But there was something in the way he said them, like he meant every syllable and he wasn't just trying to get laid, but he actually cared about me not regretting this tomorrow. My heart thudded against my ribs, and I found the courage to look up at him and smile.

"Deal," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the rush of blood in my head.

He laced his fingers through mine as soon as I said that, and tugged me toward the stairs. My knees almost gave out halfway up because his hand was so damn sure, and there I was like a blubbering mess, so scared but so horny at the same time. Each step creaked under our weight, and I couldn't help but flash back to all the times I'd thought about what my first time was going to be like. Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought it would be with Beck Ryder himself. And in a few minutes, I was about to find out what all the fuss was about.

His bedroom was different tonight. There were candles burning low on the dresser, their flames flickering shadows across the walls and casting everything in a soft, golden glow that made the space feel intimate. Rose petals were scattered across the sheets like confetti from a rom-com, and the air smelled faintly of vanilla and something floral. The music was soft and low as it drifted from his speakers, not the pounding bass from downstairs parties that I'd come to associate with him. He'd actually tried to put in effort, for me. And that did me in more than anything, twisting my nerves into a knot of affection and terror.

I laughed nervously, clutching my chest as if that could steady my racing heart. "You went full romance-novel cliché, huh?" I said. "Candles and rose petals? What's next, a string quartet hiding in the closet?"

"You deserve cliché," he said simply, shutting the door behind us with a soft click. His eyes never left mine as his expression turned serious now, with no trace of the teasing grin. It was like he'd stripped away the cocky facade, showing me the guy underneath who actually thought I was worth the extra mile.

Fuck. How was I supposed to fight that? My defenses crumbled a little more, the sarcasm I'd been clinging to slipping through my fingers like sand.

When he kissed me again, it wasn't like downstairs. This wasn't hungry teenage fumbling, all teeth and urgency from the heat of the party. This was slower and deeper, his mouth moving against mine like he was trying to unravel me piece by piece. His lips were soft and insistent, tasting faintly of the beer he'd had earlier mixed with something unique about him, like mint and warmth. And honestly, it was working. My hands found their way to his chest, feeling the solid thump of his heart under my palms, matching my own erratic rhythm.

Could it be possible that Beck Ryder was nervous about having s*x with me?

His hands slid down my arms, stopping at my waist. He didn't grab me like a crazy person, and he didn't rush at all. He just held me there like he was memorizing the shape of me, his thumbs tracing lazy circles over my hips that sent shivers racing up my spine. I could feel the heat of him through my clothes, the way his body radiated so much warmth like a furnace, pulling me in.

"Tell me what you're thinking," he murmured against my lips, his breath hot and mingling with mine.

"That I might actually pass out," I admitted, my voice shaky. The room spun a little, not from alcohol but from the overload of sensations, and the way everything felt so heightened and electric.

His chuckle rumbled in his chest, vibrating against me as he said, "Please try not to pass out. I'm ditching you on the front porch if you do."

"f**k you, Beck," I laughed, sighing as his lips moved to my neck.

"Oh, you're about to," he whispered. "And you're going to enjoy it."

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his dark eyes filled with desire but softened by something I couldn't quite understand. I hated how much that made me melt. How could he be this perfect mix of hot and sweet, making me feel safe even as my brain screamed warnings?

When his fingers toyed with the hem of my top, I froze for a split second. The fabric bunched under his touch, cool air brushing my skin where it lifted. He noticed instantly, and his hands stopped as his eyes searched mine for any sign of hesitation.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked.

"No," I said as I shook my head, my voice barely above a whisper. "Just, take things slow."

And he did. Every move was deliberate, like he was unwrapping something fragile. He tugged my shirt over my head, the cotton whispering against my skin as it slipped away, and he tossed it aside onto the floor where it landed in a forgotten heap. And then he just... looked at me. Not like he was judging me, or like he was disappointed in my plain bra or the way my stomach wasn't perfectly flat. He looked so calm and hungry, his gaze tracing over me like I was a work of art he'd been dying to see. And I wanted to punch him for making me feel that beautiful, and cracking open this vulnerability I usually kept locked away.

"You're so beautiful," he said roughly, like the words had been pulled from deep inside him.

"Shut up," I muttered, my cheeks burning hot enough to rival the candles. I crossed my arms instinctively, but he gently pulled them away, shaking his head.

"There's no need for that," he said. "Just let me look at you."

He kissed me again before I could combust, guiding me back toward the bed with a hand on the small of my back. My legs hit the mattress, and suddenly I was lying down with Beck towering over me with his weight surprisingly putting me at ease, propped up on his elbows so he didn't crush me. His hands trailed down my sides, stopping every so often, like he was checking if I was still breathing. To be honest, I wasn't. My breaths came in shallow gasps, and my body felt like a live wire under his touch.

When his mouth moved to my neck, I swore under my breath. "Jesus f*****g Christ..." The sensation was overwhelming. His lips felt so hot, his teeth grazing just enough to send jolts straight to my core.

He smirked against my skin, the vibration of it making me arch involuntarily as he said, "That good?"

"I hate you," I panted, my fingers tangling in his hair and pulling him closer even as I said it.

"Liar," he whispered, sucking lightly at my collarbone, and drawing a gasp from me that echoed in the room. And yeah, he was right. I was a liar. Because in that moment, with his body pressed against mine, and his scent enveloping me, I didn't hate him at all. I was falling harder and deeper into whatever this was.

And I was so wet that I thought I was going to explode.

Time blurred after that. Every touch of his hands and every kiss down my body felt like too much and not enough at the same time. He explored me with a patience that bordered on torture, his fingers tracing patterns over my ribs and dipping lower to unbutton my jeans with agonizing slowness. I helped him shimmy them off before kicking them away, and then I was left in just my underwear, feeling more exposed than ever. But his eyes, god, his eyes made it bearable. He looked hungry but kind, and he kept whispering compliments between kisses that chipped away at my insecurities.

When he pulled off his shirt, I almost choked on my own spit. He looked so f*****g hot, and I could clearly outline his abs even in the darkness. He was so buff but lean, and when I touched him, he felt like he was carved out of stone. My hands glided down to his abs, and he wrapped his hand around mine and pressed it down to his erection.

'Holy s**t, I was touching Beck Ryder's dick.'

It took me a few minutes before I accepted that it wasn't just a dildo he'd hidden in his pants, because it was huge. I had no idea how long it was, but if I had to estimate, I would say probably eight inches or so. And I was beyond terrified that I was about to have that inside me.

"It's okay," he said softly before leaning down as kissing me again. "I'll be gentle."

My nerves screamed wildly the more tangled up we got, but so did my need. I wanted him, even if I was scared out of my mind. I was scared of the unknown, and the pain I'd heard about from whispered conversations in locker rooms. I was scared of not living up to whatever fantasy he might have, or worse, him not living up to mine. But Beck made it easy to push those thoughts aside, and his touch grounded me, pulling me back to the present.

He paused again when we were both down to nothing but skin against skin, the heat between us building like a storm. My n*****s were raw and tingly from how much he'd been kissing them, and I tried so hard not to look down at his erection.

All I can tell you is that it was f*****g huge, and I had to take several deep breaths to make sure I didn't pass out in fear.

"You sure?" he asked, his forehead resting against mine and his breath coming just as ragged as mine.

I nodded slowly, swallowing hard as I said, "Yeah, I'm sure."

He reached into his bedside drawer and pulled out a condom, and I watched him tear it in less than two seconds before slipping it on. For one crazy second, I thought about telling him to just take it off. But that would have been monumentally stupid, so I bit my lip instead as he kissed me. I wrapped my fingers in his hair as he cupped my breasts, his lips trailing over them as he gently bit my n*****s, causing me to squirm with desire. I could feel him at my entrance now, and I swear he was actually throbbing. When he pressed up against me, it was the weirdest sensation ever. And I had to resist the urge to wrap my legs around him and pull him in.

When it finally happened, and he slowly pushed his d**k inside me there was a little bit of pain, and it was very sharp and uncomfortable, like a stretch that burned too much. My body tensed up the more he moved, and my muscles locked up instinctively. He froze immediately, kissing my temple slowly as his lips felt so soft and reassuring.

"Talk to me," he said, his voice steady despite the strain in it. "Are you okay?"

"It's fine," I whispered, my nails digging into his shoulders, leaving half-moon marks I could feel under my fingertips. "Just... give me a sec."

Tears pricked at my eyes, not from the pain exactly but from the overwhelming intimacy, the vulnerability, and the way he was looking at me like I was the only thing that mattered.

He waited patiently and gently. He didn't push, and he wasn't complaining. He just held me delicately, his hand stroking my hair and murmuring soft words I couldn't even process. My chest hurt from how badly I wanted to cry and scream and laugh all at once, my emotions crashing like waves.

And the only thing I could think about was the fact that I was no longer a virgin. In just a few minutes, it was gone. And now I could focus on the sensation of having an actual, massive p***s inside me. And Beck Ryder was the one who'd deflowered me, in the most unexpected twist I'd ever had in my entire life.

And then, so slowly, the pain started to disappear. My body adjusted to him and relaxed inch by inch, and in its place came heat, and something I couldn't even name, like a building pressure that made my toes curl and my breath hitch.

"Beck," I gasped, clutching him tighter as my legs wrapped around him instinctively.

"Yeah?" His voice was strained, like he was holding himself back with every ounce of control he had, and his muscles felt taut under my hands.

"Don't stop."

That was all the encouragement he needed. He moved again, slowly at first then deeper and stronger, finding a rhythm that matched the pounding of my heart, until I wasn't sure where I ended and he began. My body lit up, my nerves screaming in the best way, and my head spinning with sensations I'd only imagined in stolen moments alone.

I saw stars in that moment (literally). Or at least, it felt like it, because there were definitely bursts of light behind my eyelids as the pleasure built and built, coiling tightly in my belly until it snapped.

When it finally hit me, I didn't hold back. I cried out his name, shaking apart beneath him, my whole world collapsing and rebuilding in the same breath. Waves of ecstasy rolled through me, leaving me trembling and boneless, gasping for air.

Beck buried his face in my neck, his own release tearing through him moments later, and a low groan escaping his lips that vibrated against my skin. For a second, the only sound in the room was our ragged breathing, syncing up as we came down from the high.

And afterwards he just stayed there, not pulling away and not rushing to ruin the moment. He just held me like maybe I wasn't broken after all. His arms wrapped around me, pulling the sheets over us as the cool air hit our sweaty skin. I could feel his heartbeat slowing against my chest, like a steady thump that grounded me.

"Are you still alive?" he teased softly, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my back.

"Barely," I whispered.

"Well, I thought you had a heart attack from that," he said. "I was about to move you to the porch."

"You asshole," I cried, but there was no bite to it, and just a soft smile I couldn't hide.

He kissed my forehead, lingering there as he asked, "Worth it?"

I closed my eyes, smiling even though my body was still trembling as the aftershocks rippled through me. The fear had already faded into something warm and real. We just lay there for what felt like hours, staring at each other through the darkness and listening to the sound of our breathing. And all I could think about was how glad I was that my first time was with him of all people.

"Yeah," I whispered. "Totally worth it."