The v Girl (3 page)

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Authors: Mya Robarts

BOOK: The v Girl
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The girl in the mirror looks suddenly uncertain. My lack of experience at seduction and his integrity might ruin my plans. Rey’s a decent guy who might not take advantage of me. He spent years in a religious order where he got permission to wear the distinctive tattoo that spares him from recruitment. He slipped because of love. He might not slip for an emergency deflowering. If his decency wins, I won’t be able to face him again. I don’t have romantic feelings for him, but I don’t want to be rejected.

I think Rey hasn’t been with anyone since his ex, but who knows? He hasn’t gone back to the seminary yet. He isn’t the kind of guy who goes for one night stands, but girls have tricks. Maybe I’m not the only one who thought of him for an emergency deflowering.

I mold my hair carefully, hiding my prematurely gray strands among the light brown curls. It cascades down my waist in soft waves. What I see in the mirror after the final primping boosts my self-confidence. I’m not the standard Starviller beauty. Otherwise boys would turn their heads when I walk by. But I have enough self-esteem to like myself the way I was born in spite of what others think. I’m sure I’ll turn Rey on.

After a last look at the mirror, I feel empowered by my resolution and let my fears go away. I’m taking my sexuality in my own hands. No recruitment law will take away my right to experience sex with the guy of my choice.

I put on my cloak and stride confidently out of the apartment. “Poncho! Let’s go for a walk.”

I can barely wait to have what—in my almost non-existent sexual expertise—has to be the best kind of sex there is.

Consensual sex.

Chapter 4

The torch-lit room is empty
except for the old, rusty gym equipment. Not the most romantic scenario for sex, but a least I can be sure soldiers won’t come. Years ago, the museum was the scene of thousands of beheadings, and now the soldiers think this place is haunted.

I’m more afraid of the living. Dead people can’t rape me.

There’s always the danger of Duque Diaz, Rey’s brother, coming here with his fiancée, so I improvise curtains on the cracked windows.

I make sure there are mirrors near the gym mattresses where I’ll lose my
V
. I want to see how Rey deflowers me. I take my cloak off and lay on the mattress to test the old, cracked mirrors’ view.

A girl like me, who has only been kissed once, against her will, is supposed to be sexually ignorant. But I’ve learned a few sex tips by reading Dad’s anatomy books. And watching. After putting a coconut oil jar under the mattress, I lay down, fantasizing about Rey’s dark eyes and Greek profile. The wind hits the museum ruins, producing ghostly sounds.

I get up when I hear him arriving.

Rey’s shoulder-length black hair is wet, as though he has just bathed. It makes him look incredibly sexy. The fact I know he’s good at every discipline we learn here makes him more attractive. He must be good in bed, too. But his beautiful soul overshadows his physical attractiveness. I still don’t understand how he doesn’t have a fiancée. Since the end of his engagement, a lot of girls have offered him comfort.

He greets me with a contagious grin that illuminates his amber eyes. He never calls me Lila. “Why so early, Lily?”

I gauge his reaction to my outfit. I put so much effort into my primping that I suppress a pang of disappointment when he doesn’t notice. But I still have some cards to play. Today I need a grateful Rey, who will give me something in return for my kindness.

“I made some clothes for Reyna,” I say, taking them out of my backpack. I earn extra money by making clothes out of fabric leftovers. His three-year-old sister gets constant gifts from me.

“You’re spoiling her too much, Lily. Thank you.”

He looks so beautiful, so innocent. I can almost pretend Rey’s as inexperienced as I am. I observe him carefully as he puts some boxes on the floor. He notices I’m staring at him.

“What?” he asks, puzzled.

“Lately you’ve been smiling more often. It suits you.”


Nah
! I only smile when you’re around,” he says, getting busy with the boxes.

I gulp. What does he mean? Is he flirting? Is he just being as kind as usual?

Rey’s almost twenty-one. Aside from his job at the local factory, he carries heavy things in exchange for food. He’s a good hunter and rider. Those activities have only added to his muscles and allure. Before love found him, he was studying to become a priest. Will he do the unthinkable? He doesn’t expect what is coming at him, and I almost feel guilty for what I’m about to ask him. Almost.

We talk about the Accord Unit’s arrival and his grin disappears. He insults the Accord cops a little.

“Why don’t Accord cops get hemorrhoids?” he asks while packing some provisions in a box. We always make silly jokes about soldiers and Accord cops.

“Because they’re perfect assholes,” I say theatrically. I’m not at my wittiest, but he chuckles and visibly relaxes.

“You hate them, don’t cha?” he asks. “They don’t sit well with me either.”

Our laughter echoes the empty wooden walls. I haven’t seen him in such a good mood for a while. He’s been stressed out lately. I hope Rey’s stress will make him willing to find a momentary sexual escape from his problems.

When he isn’t watching, I undo one button of my shirt.

His beauty and that
I-can’t-imagine-what’s-coming-at-me
attitude stir something in me. I want him. I do. I can’t wait to have his bulky arms around me. I want him to undo my shirt and slide his hands up my thighs while lifting my skirt. I want him to carry me to the mattresses and have his weight on me, holding me down. I want to wrap my legs around his body. Let his hands and lips caress every single inch of my skin. I want the pain of having him inside me. But I don’t know how to start this. I don’t know how to seduce him.

If I see something in his eyes that tells me he wants to take the sex route, I’ll invite him to walk that route with me. At the first sign of arousal, I’ll joke about me not having a problem if he wants sex. Then one thing could lead to the other.

As we work to lower boxes to the basement, I make sure to brush my body against his whenever I can. It takes me a couple of failed tries, but this time I can tell he notices. He blushes and tenses, but so far it’s been me doing the touching. He doesn’t look as unaffected as before, but he hasn’t reciprocated … yet.

Frustrated, I sit on the floor. We don’t have the whole afternoon. It’s time for Plan B: playing the damsel in distress. I hate this plan, but I’m getting desperate.

Unnoticed by him, I cut myself a little on my thigh. When he sits next to me, I stand to give him another flash of my legs. Then, squealing, I pretend I’m losing my balance.

“Watch out!” His hands are now on my body as he catches me.

Rey inspects the thigh wound, grazing it with his fingers. The soft contact of his fingers with my skin sets my body on fire. Taking advantage of his closeness; I hug him as though I am scared. He’s sweaty, and even so, he smells so good.

Rey tries to pull away, but I cling to him. “What …? Lily, what’s wrong?”

I’m ashamed at myself for putting up an act. “I’m afraid.”

Rey’s voice tone is soothing, sympathetic. “Of the recruitment?”

I swallow hard. “Mostly.”

He pulls me close in his arms, as though trying to protect me. “It will be alright.”

It’s an
I-care-for-you
hug. Not an
I-want-to-have-sex
hug. I sigh. I have to keep up this farce. “My siblings...”

“They aren’t eligible for seven years. Olmo might even skip recruitment because his ill health.”

“They need me, Rey.”

Rey understands. Troops won’t recruit him because his religious tattoo, but if I get recruited; my family won’t have enough to eat.

“Is there anything I can do?” I hide my head on his shoulder and nod. I press my breasts harder against his chest. Every fiber of my body is buzzing with anticipation when I manage to press my pelvis firmly to his. Rubbing him, grinding against him.

Finally, it happens. He gets hard. This is the signal I am waiting for.

I grab his face to pull him closer. I close my eyes and try to make my clumsy lip work pass as an acceptable kiss. I don’t know how to kiss. Warren Rivers forced my first kiss on me at an early age. After that, no kisses at all. I might not be doing a good job since he isn’t moving his lips in response.

I keep moving my lips around his mouth, trying to part his lips with mine, and when they finally open, I suck his lower lip and caress it with my tongue. I look at our reflection in the mirror. His eyes shot open in complete shock.

He reluctantly pulls away. “Lily ... what … why …”

I put my arms around him. A wrong word and I won’t reach my goal. The right words and soon we’ll be on those mattresses. “I don’t want my first time being forced on me by the troops. You’re my only chance to have non-violent … sex.”

Confusion
shows all over his face. “It’d be wrong. You might think you want this, but you are still—”

“A little girl? No, Rey. I’m not a little girl anymore.” I slowly undo my buttons, positively making him freeze. When I undo the last button, there’s a visible trail of skin from my neck to my waist, hinting the sides of my breasts in the view. My cleavage suggests my invitation:
You can see it all. Kiss it all.

He stands up, but not before I notice him giving me a furtive glance full of desire. He looks as though it’s taking all his strength to not move forward. Rey avoids my eyes, and his words seem to be more to convince himself than to convince me. “You’re not yourself, Lily. You don’t want them to recruit you, but you don’t want this either. I’d love to … give you what you want, but … I’d be harming you. I … I—”

I close the gap between us and kiss him passionately again, running my hands all over his muscled chest. “It would hurt me more if you say no at this point.”

Rey hardens even more and can’t hide it. I force him to sit on the mattress and put his hands on my waist, straddling him. In this position, my skirt displays the top of my thighs. Normally, I’m not so brazen, but the fear of the recruitment is dictating my actions.

I wrap my legs around him so that my most private parts press against his erection. Very slowly, rhythmically, I move my hips in small circles, rubbing him.

His body’s reactions tell me I’m affecting him. But he still hasn’t agreed entirely. Discomfort and uncertainty creep up on me. I want him to need this as much as I need him. I won’t continue if I don’t get his full acceptance. His pained expression speaks of his internal battle with his consciousness. I don’t have a way to know what he sees in my eyes, but something makes his darken with desire. His face becomes a determined, lustful mask.

I lower my voice to a whisper, my lips caressing his. “Don’t feel like you’d be stealing something.”

He finally kisses me back. His lips are urgent, but his arms are tremulous on my skin. He ventures a hand to my waist and slides it up while the other hand grabs the nape of my neck, pulling me closer. The way his mouth explores mine, the way he keeps rubbing his body against mine, all tells me that Rey’s finally surrendered. He’s completely given himself to me with each deep, passionate kiss.

Rey takes off his shirt, and I gasp. A surge of passion runs through me at the sight of his muscular chest that is scarred by his religious tattoo. He forcefully encloses me in a tight embrace. We’re so close that my breasts are constricted against his bare chest, making my nipples hard and sensitive. The sounds of our moans are muffled by the sound of our mouths moving in harmony.

Sparks of electricity shoot down to my core when he places his hands on my legs. He moves them upward, caressing my thighs, and finally revealing my underwear. As though I’m a breakable porcelain doll, he places me on the mattresses and covers me with his body. His hand trails my side from my waist to my thighs, sending pangs of pleasure deep through me.

Beads of sweat cover Rey’s beautiful face. His trembling hand caresses my hair and from there slides slowly from my shoulder to my chest before resting between my breasts. He slides down my shirt, exposing my left breast. His lips leave my mouth, trailing kisses along my collarbone, and travel to my neck, sucking gently. My entire body becomes a live wire when he kisses a path down my neck to the point where my heart is beating at full speed.

I’ve always tried to imagine how male lips would feel on my skin, but nothing could’ve prepared me for this wave of overwhelming sensations. It feels better than I thought it would. My back arches and I find myself asking for more. More of his hands, more of his eager mouth.

His strong hands find their way up my skirt and confidently untie my underwear. My heart is beating so fast that it hurts. This is a side of Rey I didn’t know. Primal, sexual Rey. Rey the man. Rey the lover.

I’m going to have sex
, I think, feeling a mix of anxiety and triumph.

I pant when I take a look at our reflections in the mirror. We’re half naked; my legs are around his waist. His mouth hovers above my breast, and I’m writhing in anticipation.

Rey’s lips are about to cover my hardened nipple when a crashing sound startles us. Nothing to worry about. The ceiling of the next room crumbles to the ground all the time. I don’t know how long we stare into each other’s eyes, saying nothing.

Then it happens. Something I thought I was prepared to experience, but apparently, I’ve overestimated my strength of will: his rejection.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

He doesn’t push me away, but it hurts the same when he, still erect, takes his shirt from the floor and leaves the gym in a hurry.

Fighting the overwhelming feeling of humiliation and hurt, I button up my shirt. He doesn’t want what I have to offer. I’ve only made saying
no
very hard on him.

I was sure he’d say yes. There’s a general belief around: men can’t think about anything else, men need it all the time, men will jump at any opportunity. Why does Rey have to be the exception to the rule? This was supposed to be a blissful experience for both of us. His rebuff makes me feel so … cheap. So unworthy.

I try to conserve at least a little dignity while I leave the gym, fearing that I’ve lost my only friend.

Once outside, I whistle for Poncho. It’s not curfew yet but the dusty, steep streets are almost deserted, and there’s barely any visibility. My dog’s modified genes allow him to see through the darkness, so I rely on him to guide me. I can’t shake off the feeling that somebody’s watching me, but maybe I’m getting paranoid. But I prefer paranoia over the feeling of failure gnawing at me.

How am I going to face the troops now? I don’t even have enough time to meet someone else before the troops arrive. I work long shifts at a clothing factory. Later, I go to TCR training sessions in which, incidentally, Rey is an instructor. Would it be possible to develop a crush on someone and have this person return my interest in five weeks? At this moment, I wish that I was the kind of girl who can sleep with anybody, anytime, like Elena Rivers.

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