Lena's fingers trembled as they traced the hard lines of Ethan's chest, her breath hitching when he pulled her closer, his lips claiming hers in a deep, possessive kiss. The heat between them was undeniable, a fire that had been smoldering for far too long. As they tumbled onto the bed, Ethan's mouth trailed down her neck, his teeth grazing her sensitive skin, drawing a soft whimper from her.
His hands moved with purpose, fingers finding the zipper of her dress. "Can I?" he murmured against her collarbone, his voice rough with need.
Lena nodded, her pulse racing as the fabric slid away, leaving her in nothing but delicate white lace. Ethan's gaze darkened as he took her in—the swell of her breasts, the flush of her skin, the way her breath came in shallow gasps. He dipped his head to her breasts, tongue flicking over the lace before dragging it away to taste her softness.
A shudder ran through Lena as his lips closed around her nipple, his tongue swirling in slow, maddening circles. His other hand slipped beneath the waistband of her panties, fingers teasing her clit with featherlight strokes. She arched into his touch, her fingers tightening in his hair as pleasure coiled tight in her belly.
But then—Ethan shifted, the towel around his hips loosening, and Lena's eyes widened when she caught sight of his hardened length. Her breath caught. It was… bigger than she had imagined. And suddenly, Anthony's cruel words echoed in her mind.
"And guys like Ethan Calloway? You think he's some saint? I bet he's had plenty of women. Plenty of experience. Why would he bother with someone like you?"
Doubt crashed over her. What if she wasn't enough? What if Ethan thinks that they were not compatible on bedr? What if—
A tear slipped free before she could stop it, rolling down her cheek as she turned her face away.
Ethan stilled instantly. His hands, which had been so confident moments ago, retreated as if burned. "Lena?" His voice was laced with concern. When he saw the tear, his expression crumpled. "Shit—I'm sorry. Did I go too far?"
He quickly wrapped the towel back around himself and pulled the blanket over her, his movements frantic with guilt. The loss of his warmth made Lena's chest ache.
"No—Ethan, wait—" She grabbed his arm, panic flaring. "I'm sorry. I just… I got scared."
His brows furrowed. "What happened?"
She swallowed hard, her voice barely a whisper. "I am scared that I won't be enough for you. That you'll realize I'm… inexperienced. That you'll leave."
Ethan's jaw tightened, a flicker of anger in his eyes. "Did Anthony say that to you?" His voice was dangerously low. "Did he hurt you?"
Lena shook her head quickly. "No. We never… I never let him."
The tension in Ethan's shoulders eased slightly, but his grip on her tightened protectively. "Lena," he said firmly, cupping her face. "I don't care about experience. I care about you. About how you feel. About what you want."
She searched his eyes, finding nothing but sincerity. "But what if—?"
"No 'what ifs,'" he interrupted gently. "This isn't a performance. It's just us. And if you're not ready, we stop. No questions, no regrets."
Lena exhaled shakily, her fingers brushing over his stubbled jaw. "I am ready. I just… I need you to know I might not be… good at this."
Ethan smirked, pressing a kiss to her palm. "Sweetheart, there's no 'good' or 'bad.' There's only what feels right." His thumb traced her lower lip. "And right now, all I want is to make you feel everything."
The heat in his gaze reignited the fire in her veins. Slowly, she reached for the towel around his hips, her fingers brushing his hip bone. "Then show me," she whispered.
Ethan groaned, capturing her mouth in a searing kiss as he lowered her back onto the bed. This time, there was no hesitation—only hunger, only need. His hands roamed her body, pushing the blanket aside, his touch burning against her soft skin. He hooked his fingers into the delicate lace of her panties, sliding them down her thighs with deliberate slowness, his gaze darkening as he drank in the sight of her.
Then he knelt between her legs, his breath hot against her inner thighs before his tongue found her. A slow, teasing stroke over her clit made Lena gasp, her back arching off the bed. He licked her in long, languid passes, then circled her with torturous precision, his fingers spreading her wider as he devoured her. Lena whimpered, her hands fisting the sheets, her hips lifting helplessly against his mouth.
"Ethan—" His name was a plea, a moan.
He growled against her, the vibrations sending shocks of pleasure through her, before finally pulling back. He surged up her body, claiming her mouth in a deep, possessive kiss, letting her taste herself on his tongue.
"Tell me you're ready," he murmured, his voice rough with need.
Lena nodded, her breath shaky. "Yes—please—"
Ethan didn't make her wait. He guided himself to her entrance, the thick head of his cock pressing against her slick heat. He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, his muscles trembling with restraint as her tight warmth stretched around him. Lena's nails dug into his shoulders, a sharp gasp escaping her as she adjusted to the delicious, aching fullness.
"Breathe, sweetheart," he coaxed, brushing his lips over hers. "Just like that… take me."
When he was fully sheathed inside her, he stilled, letting her adjust, his forehead pressed to hers. Then, with a slow roll of his hips, he began to move.
Each thrust was deep, deliberate, the friction maddening. Lena's moans grew louder, her legs wrapping around his waist to pull him deeper. Ethan's rhythm quickened, his thrusts harder, driving into her with relentless precision. Every time she clenched around him, he groaned, his control fraying.
"Fuck, Lena—you feel too good," he gritted out, his hands gripping her hips as he angled her just right, hitting that spot inside her that made her cry out.
Pleasure coiled tighter, her climax building with every stroke. When it shattered, she arched against him, her body trembling as waves of ecstasy crashed over her. Ethan didn't stop—he shifted her onto her side, pulling her leg over his hip, sinking into her again with a growl. The new angle had her seeing stars, her second orgasm hitting her even harder.
He was relentless, chasing his own release now, his thrusts turning rough, erratic. Lena clung to him, her body still pulsing with aftershocks as he finally lost control. With a deep, guttural groan, he buried himself inside her one last time, spilling hot and thick as his hips jerked against her.
Breathless, he collapsed beside her, pulling her close. His lips brushed her forehead, his voice a ragged whisper.
"You feel so goddamn good, Lena."
She melted into him, her body humming with warmth and quiet satisfaction. The soft rise and fall of their breath filled the room, and the steady rhythm of Ethan's heartbeat against her skin grounded her in the present, in him.
For a long, peaceful moment, neither of them moved.
Then, gently, Ethan reached for the tissue box on the nightstand, his movements unhurried and careful. He helped Lena clean up with a tenderness that made her throat tighten.
"Do you want to shower?" he asked softly, brushing a damp strand of hair from her cheek.
Lena shook her head, her arms wrapping around him instead. "Just stay," she whispered.
Ethan smiled, holding her close. One hand stroked along her bare arm in soothing, lazy circles. He tilted his head to look at her, searching her face.
"You okay?" he asked quietly. "Does anything hurt?"
She blushed and shook her head, cheeks glowing. "No," she said. "I'm okay. Really."
Ethan cupped her cheek, thumb tracing the curve of her jaw. "I'm really happy," he admitted, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "Fortunate, really. To be your first."
Lena's breath hitched. "I want you to be my first and last," she whispered, the confession spilling out before she could second-guess it.
Then he cupped her face, kissed her gently—soft, reverent.
"You have no idea how much that means to me," he said, voice husky.
He pulled her into his chest again, his arms firm around her, like he never wanted to let go. Then he leaned down and kissed her, slow and deep, pouring every ounce of what he couldn't yet articulate into that touch. When he finally pulled back, his voice was rough with emotion. "Today's the best birthday I've ever had. I'll remember it forever."
Lena's heart swelled at his words. There was something in the way he said it—in the quiet sincerity behind the rough edge of his voice—that made her feel seen. Cherished. Like her presence had truly mattered.
"Happy birthday, Ethan," she whispered into the dark.
He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, soft and lingering. "Thank you, Lena… for everything."
And in that quiet room, under soft sheets and quiet breaths, with the rain gently falling beyond the window, Ethan Calloway fell asleep holding the girl he'd never truly stopped thinking about.