One Love, Davenport, Fiona [most inspirational books of all time TXT] 📗

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16 years old

I ripped my mouth away from Gracie’s and flopped back against the seat, breathing hard and willing my body to stand down. Literally. Gracie wiggled on my lap and moaned as she searched out my lips again. It took every ounce of my control to lift her and deposit her back into the passenger seat of my car.

“I thought…” She trailed off and curled into herself.

“Hey.” I reached across the console and brushed her beautiful red curls away from her face. “Don’t ever doubt how much I want you, baby,” I told her in a gravelly voice. “But if we don’t stop, I’m going to lose it and fuck you in the back seat of my car.” I wanted to. I really fucking wanted to. But I had more than enough reasons to wait. The biggest one being the risk of pregnancy.

We both wanted a big family. Gracie had been talking about babies for as long as I could remember. And I hoped to start working on her dream as soon as we started a life on our own. She could go on the pill, and I could wear condoms, but nothing except abstinence was foolproof. Knowing how she felt about providing for our family on our own—although I had gotten a jump-start on it—I wasn’t going to risk a teen pregnancy. Gracie would see it as a failure, and I would never knowingly do that to her.

She opened her mouth, and I placed a finger over it to keep her silent. “You are not a one-night stand, not an easy lay, or just a girlfriend I use for fucking as a placeholder for when the right one comes along.” I brought her face over to meet me in the middle and gave her a soft kiss. “You are my one, my everything, and I refuse to let our first time be anything other than making love.”

Her skin pinkened with one of those blushes I loved so much, and her mouth curved up into a sweet smile. “We could go to a hotel.” I shook my head and chuckled when she pouted, “It’s my birthday.”

“We have our whole lives to explore every kinky, dirty fantasy in my head,” I teased, making her giggle. A sound that always sent a bolt of warmth to my heart and a bolt of lust to my dick.

“You’re such a boy,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

“You’re such a girl,” I replied with a smirk.

I cupped her face in my hands and pressed my forehead to hers. “You are it for me, Gracie. I love you.”

Her ocean blue eyes widened, and she blinked like an owl, her mouth forming a little O.

It might have seemed odd to some people that we’d been together this long without saying I love you, but even though I’d known it for a long time, I didn’t feel right using those words until we were old enough for it to truly have meaning and promise.

“Do you love me, Gracie?” I asked when she continued to sit in silence.

That seemed to snap her out of her trance, and she threw herself at me. “Yes! Yes, I love you!” I’d known she would say yes, yet I still felt a sigh of relief trickle out.

I reached into the pocket of my suit coat—we were all dressed up from a fancy dinner—and took out a box I’d been trying to find the right time to give her.

Gracie gasped when I held the box out and looked at it with utter disbelief while her brow furrowed, telling me she was also apprehensive. I knew what was on her mind and strived to settle it.

“I’m not proposing, baby.” Yet. “Just open it.”

Her worry dissipated, and she opened the lid, suddenly vibrating with excitement.

An Irish Claddagh ring was nestled inside, except I’d had the emerald heart replaced with a sapphire because of her eyes. “I’m not proposing tonight. But I am asking you to promise to always be mine. To say yes when the day comes that I ask you to be my wife.”

She bobbed her head, and tears streamed down her face as I slipped the ring on her finger. Once again, she practically fell on top of me, sealing her mouth over mine.

I hugged her tight and didn’t fight her when she kissed me, her hunger clear in the way she tried to devour my mouth. Then one of her hands slid down my shirt, headed for my groin, and I caught it as I gently pushed her away.

Gracie and I were both virgins, but that didn’t mean I hadn’t learned things about myself, about my preferences and needs during sex. And with Gracie, it seemed as if they were magnified. I wanted to dominate her, to make her submit and cry out my name as she came, reminding us both that she belonged to me. And while she screamed in ecstasy, I’d be making sure everyone else knew she was mine too by filling her with my come and putting my baby in her belly.

We’d only ever done some heavy petting and I’d given her orgasms by rubbing her over her clothes—with my hand or the bulge of my very large cock through my pants. I hadn’t let things progress because I didn’t trust myself not to do more. But we’d said I love you. She’d promised to be mine forever. To say yes when I finally proposed. It was finally time to start preparing her.

Holding her hand in an iron grip, I looked straight into her eyes. “I’m in charge when we fuck. Don’t touch, don’t speak, don’t breathe unless I tell you to. And you especially don’t orgasm until I tell you to. Is that clear?” Gracie’s eyes were wide again, but heat had sparked in them and I could tell my words interested her. My jaw firmed, and I narrowed my eyes in warning. “And baby, that includes getting yourself off.” Her mouth