Danielle Steel - The Gift

“Where have you been for the last four years, little girl?” he said, sounding hoarse, and she smiled in answer.

“I think you've been too busy to notice where I've been,” she said honestly, and he liked that about her.

“I think you're right, and I've been a fool. This must be my lucky night.” He pulled her closer again and let his lips drift against her hair. There was something about her that excited him. It wasn't just her body, or the spectacular breasts he'd encountered while they were dancing, it was something about the way she looked at him, the way she responded to him. There was something very bright and brash and brave about her, as though she weren't afraid of anything. He knew she was only a kid, and a sophomore would have to be a little intimidated by a senior, and yet she wasn't. She wasn't afraid of him, or of saying what she thought, and he liked that about her. Breaking up with Debbie had bruised his ego, and Maribeth was just the balm he needed to soothe it.

They got back in his car, and he turned to look at her. He didn't want to take her home. He liked being with her. He liked everything about her. And for her, it was a heady experience just being with him.

“Do you want to go for a little drive? It's only eleven.” They had left the dance so early, they'd had plenty of time to talk and dance at Willie's.

“I should probably get home,” she said cautiously, as he started the car, but he headed in the direction of the park, instead of her house. It didn't worry her, but she didn't want to stay out too late. She felt safe with him though. He had been a perfect gentleman all night, a lot more so than David.

“Just a little spin, then I'll take you home, I promise. I just don't want the night to end. This has been special for me,” he said meaningfully, and she could feel her head reeling with excitement. Paul Browne? What if this was for real? What if he went steady with her instead of Debbie Flowers? She couldn't believe it. “I've had a great time, Maribeth.”

“Me too. A lot better than I had at the dance,” she laughed. They chatted easily for a few minutes after that, until he drove into a secluded area near a lake, stopped the car, and turned to face her.

“You're a special girl,” he said, and there was no doubt in Maribeth's mind that he meant it. He opened the glove compartment then and pulled out a pint bottle of gin and offered it to her. “Would you like a little drink?”

“No, thanks. I don't drink.”

“How come?” He seemed surprised.

“I don't really like it.” He thought that was odd, but he offered it to her anyway. She started to decline, but as he insisted, she took a little sip, not to hurt his feelings. The clear liquid burned her throat and her eyes as it went down, and there was a hot feeling in her mouth afterwards, and she felt flushed, as he leaned over and pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

“Do you like that better than gin?” he asked sensuously after he'd kissed her again, and she smiled and nodded, feeling worldly and excited and a little sinful. He was so incredibly exciting, and so unbelievably handsome. “So do I,” he said, and kissed her again, and this time, he unbuttoned the prim dress as she tried to keep the buttons done up, but his fingers were nimbler than hers and more practiced, and within seconds, he was holding her breasts and fondling them as he kissed her breathlessly and she had no idea how to stop him.

“Paul, don't …please …” she said softly, wanting to mean it, but she didn't. She knew what she had to do, but it was so hard not to want him. He leaned down then and kissed her breasts, and suddenly her bra was undone, and the top of her dress was completely open. His mouth was on her breasts, and then her lips and then he was working her nipples with his fingers. And she moaned in spite of herself as he slid a hand under her skirt, and found her expertly and quickly, despite her attempt to keep her legs together. But she had to keep reminding herself that she didn't want what he was doing to her. She wanted it to frighten her, and yet nothing he did scared her. Everything he did was exciting and delicious, but she knew she had to stop, and finally she pulled away, out of breath and out of control, and she looked at him with regret and shook her head, and he understood it.

“I can't. I'm sorry, Paul.” She was stunned by all he had made her feel. Her head was spinning.

“It's all right,” he said gently, “I know … I shouldn't have … I'm really sorry …” And as he said the words, he kissed her again and they started all over again, and this time it was even harder to stop, and they both looked completely disheveled, as she pulled away from him, and she saw in shock that his fly was open. He pulled her hand toward him then, and she tried to will herself not to, but she was fascinated by what he was doing. This was what she had been warned about, what she had been told never to do, yet it was all so overwhelming, she couldn't stop herself, or him, and he leapt into her hands as he pressed her hand into his zipper, and she found herself caressing him, and stroking him, as he kissed her and laid her down on the seat, and lay on top of her, pulsating with desire and excitement. Oh God …Maribeth, I want you so much … oh baby … I love you …” He pushed her skirt up then, and his own trousers down, with what seemed like a single movement, and she felt him pressing against her, searching for her, needing her desperately, as she now needed him, and with a single surge of pleasure and pain, he entered her, and barely moving inside of her, he gave a huge shudder beyond his control, and came less than a moment later. Oh God … oh God … oh Maribeth …” And then as he returned slowly to earth, he looked at her, as she stared at him in shock, unable to believe what they'd done, and he gently touched her face with his fingers. Oh God, Maribeth, I'm sorry …you were a virgin … I couldn't help myself …you're so beautiful and I wanted you so badly … I'm sorry, baby …”

“It's all right,” she found herself reassuring him, as he lay still within her, and slowly withdrew, already getting excited again, but he didn't dare try for another. And he pulled a towel miraculously from under the seat, and tried to help her make repairs, while she tried desperately not to be embarrassed. He took a long swig of gin then, and then offered it to her, and this time she took it, wondering if the first sip had made her succumb to his advances, or if she was in love with him, or he with her, or what it all meant, and if she was his steady girl now.

“You're incredible,” he said, kissing her again, and pulling her close to him on the seat. “I'm sorry it happened here, like this tonight. Next time will be better, I promise. My parents are going out of town in two weeks, you can come to my place.” It never occurred to him for a single moment that she might not want to continue to do that with him. He assumed she wanted more, and he wasn't entirely wrong, but for the most part, Maribeth wasn't sure what she was feeling. Her whole world had turned upside down in a matter of minutes.

“Did you … and … Debbie …” She knew even before the words were out that it was a stupid question, and he smiled at her, looking for a moment like a much wiser older brother.

“You are young, aren't you? Come to think of it, how old are you?”

“I turned sixteen two weeks ago.”

“Well, you're a big girl now.” He took off his jacket and put it around her shoulders when he saw she was shaking. She was in shock over what they'd done, and then she knew she had to ask him a question.

“Could I get pregnant from that?” The very thought terrified her, but he looked reassuring. And she really wasn't sure how great a risk she might have taken.