Firsts by Laurie Elizabeth Flynn

back my panic. Did he wear that tie with this idea in mind? How much thought has this guy given to me, considering I only just met him?
    “Such a pretty girl,” he says, trailing his fingers down my arms. “Beautiful.”
    I can feel his fingers on my skin, but nothing else. He doesn’t move in for a kiss, or make any moves to disentangle me from my leather bindings.
    “There’s nothing wrong with going slow,” I say, hating the shrill tone that my voice has taken on. “But go too slowly and a girl might think you fell asleep on her.” I suddenly wish I would have gone with Faye after the game and not found myself in this predicament. My breath starts to get shallow. With any luck, he’ll think I’m turned on, not terrified.
    “I certainly have not fallen asleep on you,” he says, and suddenly I feel the weight of him on my upper body, pushing me onto the bed. I immediately flip him off me and accidentally punch him in the chin.
    “Whoa, Don Juan. Word of advice: never do that to a girl.” I rip off my blindfold and brush my hands through my hair, aware that they’re shaking.
    “Please forgive me,” he says. “I did not mean to disrespect you.”
    At this point, I don’t want to sleep with him at all, so I do something I have never done before. I turn him down.
    “You should go,” I say. “I don’t feel right about this. I’m sorry.” I hand his tie back to him, expecting him to get off my bed and scamper away. But he just stares at me, unblinking.
    “Please,” he says, pouting his lips like a girl. What a turnoff.
    “I’m sorry,” I say again through gritted teeth, wondering why I’m apologizing and why my voice doesn’t sound authoritative like I want it to. I’m so good at ordering guys around in my bedroom. Why am I so bad at ordering one out of it?
    “Look. Mercedes,” he says, his voice more like a purr. “I do not want to come across as, what you Americans say, an asshole.” He rolls the tie around in his hand and peeks at me from under his eyelashes. “But Trevor told me a lot about you. He said you would do anything to help guys like us.”
    I finger the duvet cover, wishing I could tear it to shreds and strangle Juan Marco Antonio with them. Beneath his silky accent, his voice has a hardness to it that I recognize.
    “Are you threatening me?” I fight the urge to wrap my arms around my body protectively.
    “Of course not,” he says. “I just would not want the wrong person to find out.” He reaches for my hand. I know that if I let him take it, I’ll be giving my consent. He will get what he came here for, and I’ll get his silence.
    “I don’t think I have to tell you how crucial your discretion is,” I say as he threads his fingers through mine and covers my arm with kisses. I force his face up with my hand, enjoying the power that has shifted back to me. “Do you understand me? Nobody finds out about us. Not your friends, not your buddies from the soccer team. Comprende ?”
    He nods and smiles. I’m not sure I like that smile, but maybe it’s just because the atmosphere in my bedroom has gotten so weird.
    And it gets even weirder. He doesn’t want to do it on my bed, so we start doing it on the carpet beside my bed and then end up against the wall. As his hot breath wilts into my ear, I start wondering who exactly is in control and who is being dominated. I keep wishing he would just get it over with like every other guy, but he keeps going and going, like some kind of Energizer bunny. I fight off the fear that mounts as I consider the possibility that I have made a huge mistake. This guy isn’t like any virgin I have ever been with. He has either watched a lot of porn or been blessed with a hell of a lot of stamina.
    Either that, or this isn’t his first time. But if that’s the case, why would he choose me over his supposedly precious Isabella?
    Afterward, he wants to lie on the floor with me, but I make him put on his pants and leave before he can mention