A week ago, if someone asked her if she was ready to lose her virginity, she would have laughed and said no. She wasn’t a prude. She did other stuff. Plenty of stuff, in fact. She didn’t begrudge girls like Veronica who took charge of their sexuality. They knew what they were doing and made their own choices, just as she made hers. Ash was a wild kid, she knew that about herself, but she also knew she wasn’t ready to make that particular leap.

Until that night, apparently. Until Sam.

It wasn’t like it would have been with Randy. It wasn’t just about breaking the curse.

Okay, the whole coma thing provided a little urgency to the situation, but even without the curse, she was confident she and Sam would have been popping each other’s cherries sooner or later. It just so happened that it was sooner.

Ash wasn’t sure if the drugs still lingered in her system or if Sam’s touch was just that arousing. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he’d had practice. But that wasn’t the case. They told each other everything, there was no way she wouldn’t know. Also, he did enough fumbling and apologizing that there was no way he’d done any of it before.

“Is that too hard?” He sucked on her left nipple and ran his rough tongue over it.

The only response Ash could give was a deep moan. She hadn’t known she liked her breasts played with. Randy had access to them many times, but—typical guy—he always had his sights below the belt and spent little time above.

Too bad, she decided when she could finally formulate a coherent thought between waves of pleasure. If he had, he might have gotten what he so desperately wanted. It was good Randy hadn’t. She didn’t want to share this moment with anyone but Sam.

The scene beyond the open curtains was like a ticking clock, a countdown to zero hour when their lives would change forever. She couldn’t shake the feeling they were being watched. There was a cloud of anticipation in the air like it wasn’t just her and Sam in the room, like the whole town had been waiting for this moment. In a way, she guessed it had been.

For years people had been telling them she and Sam made a good couple. She chalked the feeling up to nerves and pushed the worry away. Sam’s wet, rough tongue slid across her nipple again, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out.

“Jesus, Sam,” she gasped, “you’ve been holding out on me.”

His mouth broke free of her skin with a wet pop. “I was on the debate team freshman and sophomore years. I’ve always been good with my tongue.” He demonstrated with another caress of her nipple. “You could even call me a master debater.”

She groaned and put her on his head. “Less puns, more tongue.” She pushed his head down her body.

“Yes, ma’am.” He answered between kisses, working his way down her sternum, over her stomach…and kept going.

“Oh! Oh, yeah. Yep, more of that. Lots more of that.” Her toes curled. Five of the most euphoric minutes of her life later, she experienced her first orgasm with another person. Randy had technically been there for her first, but she'd done most of the work.

Now, it’s my turn. A grin stretched her lips, and she wasn’t sure who was more excited, her or Sam.

He didn’t seem to mind that she couldn’t take all of him in her mouth. She gagged going to the dentist, so there was no way she’d be able to deep-throat him. Ash never spent much time pondering blowjob technique. For example, what should she do with her hands? It wasn’t something she had to worry about with Randy since there was no need to get her hands involved. Sam was a different story, so she learned as she went.

He didn’t seem disappointed with her technique a few minutes later when she was spitting out the result of her efforts.

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“Wow. That was…amazing.” He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close.

Wiping her mouth on her discarded shirt, she leaned in and gave him a kiss. “You realize you’ll have to give up your medal for stopping mid-blowjob.”

“Worth it.” He kissed her again.

After they broke apart from the kiss, she snuggled into his chest. “I don’t think this is what the painting meant when it said ‘cleave.’”

She could hear the grin in his voice. “Give me a few minutes, and we’ll see what we can do about that.”

“Just a few minutes?” Sam nodded. “What ever will we do until then?”

“I can think of a few things…” His strong hands grabbed her thighs, and he flipped her onto her back.

It took longer than a few minutes for them to get to the cleaving. Sam may have been ready in a few minutes, but she wouldn’t let him move on until he finished what he started.

They slowed down after that. Not just because the enormity of what was at stake was hovering over them, but because Sam kept stopping to check that she was comfortable.

“Everything okay?” he asked her over and over, followed by, “Are you sure?”

It was very sweet, but by the third repetition, she wanted to grab him by the balls and tell him to give it to her already. So that was exactly what she did.

It turned out, all the fashion magazines were right. Communication during sex was important.

Not wearing a condom went against everything their parents and teachers taught them, but the last thing they wanted was to violate the unspoken terms of the "blessing" because of a technicality.

It could still be the drugs, but she reveled in the sensation of Sam inside her. At first, their motions were awkward, inexperienced. But as they explored and became more comfortable with each others' bodies, their movements became less frenzied and they moved in harmony with one another. The looming, anxious feeling of imminent doom dissipated, and the awkwardness of inexperience fell away. The sense of urgency that overtook them was not driven by foreboding or worry, but by a simple yet potent biological need.

After he got his sea legs under him, Sam paid more attention to her breasts without disrupting his rhythm. Yep, he's definitely a boob man.

Ash reached and gave Sam’s dangly bits a squeeze and was rewarded by a loud moan The reverberation of it vibrated her breast, and she was sure Sam was about to pop. His stiffening cock and frantic breaths were enough to tip her over the edge, and ecstasy gushed out of her. He slowed but didn’t stop and he looked at her with such tenderness she nearly melted.

“You didn’t come?”

With a mischievous grin, he shook his head. “Nah, I pre-gamed while you slept. I'm not done yet.”

“Pre-gamed? Samael Phillips Dyer did you expect to get lucky tonight?” She laughed, not knowing whether she was impressed or shocked at his presumption.

He kissed her neck and when her eyes fluttered shut to enjoy the sensation, he slid himself completely inside her. A post-orgasm shiver coursed through her body and she gasped.

“Disappointed?” There was no little amount of teasing in his voice.

Biting her lip, all she could do was shake her head. “Sam Dyer…” She couldn’t continue until she caught her breath. “You were much less cocky before I popped your cherry.”

“That’s funny. I could say the same thing about you," he quipped with a wiggle of his hips that sent an electric thrill jolting through her.

She growled, perhaps due to the sensation, but mostly at the terrible pun. “Shut up and get back to work.”

“Yes, ma’am.” A sheepish grin crept onto his face. “Do you…wanna try it from behind?”

The answer, it turned out, was yes. Over the next twenty minutes, she said, and screamed, that same word many, many times. The second—or was it third?—time Sam took her from behind, her hands clutched the cold steel rods of her bed’s footboard and her gaze fell on the painting hanging on the wall.

The two lovers depicted embraced each other, bodies intertwined like the twisting branches of the tree above them. She couldn't believe she ever thought that could be her and Randy. He was always down to fuck, but she doubted he had the capacity to hold someone so tenderly as the man in the painting.

She shook her head to clear the thoughts of Randy out of her mind. Throwing Sam onto his back, she straddled him, her eyes still on the painting as she began to rock her hips. The position left Sam’s hands free to explore her body. One hand found her right breast, the other slipping down to rub between her legs. A hot urge began to build inside her.

Sam’s mouth opened in a moan, his hands’ work forgotten. Ash concentrated as best she could, pushing the climax back as long as possible. Her nails dug into his chest as the crescendo built and built, though he didn't seem to care about the pain. Hot hands grabbed her around the hips and he pulled her down. Her ass ground into his thighs and for the first time he bottomed out inside her. It was like Thanksgiving dinner, so full it was almost painful but you kept going back for more. Ash wanted more. She wanted it all, but she couldn’t hold back the cresting wave any longer.