He Wouldn't Claim Me — Another Man Did-Chapter 79 - 72: Zero Experience
"You..."
It was like falling off a cliff.
Her mind went blank. Her body tensed, and her heart rate soared. She felt a desperate need to grab onto something, but all around her was glass. The only thing she could grasp was Shane Sterling’s hair.
"You... Don’t do this..."
She looked down, and through her hazy vision, she glimpsed his broad shoulder blades, like surging waves crashing toward her, one after another.
It was still hard to believe. The high and mighty Young Mr. Sterling was now bowing his head in submission, letting her dominate him, all for the sake of her pleasure.
In the warm stream of water, Isla Prescott felt as if she, too, was slowly melting into liquid.
Just as Isla Prescott was about to go limp, Shane Sterling rose and pulled her into a tight embrace.
"Does that feel good?" he asked in a husky voice.
Isla Prescott’s skin was flushed red all over. She pressed her face against Shane Sterling’s chest, and when she spoke, her voice was so hoarse it didn’t even sound like her own. "Are you really a complete beginner?"
"The fact that you’re even asking that question must mean it felt very good," he said, pleased with himself.
The red flush on Isla Prescott’s skin deepened by another shade.
"Then... should I... do the same for you...?" She held onto Shane Sterling’s arm as she began to sink lower.
Shane Sterling saw her intention and immediately pulled her back up into his arms.
"What I do for you is my business. You don’t need to feel any pressure, and you certainly don’t need to do the same for me. We’re lovers, not friends who need to exchange favors," Shane Sterling said, caressing her cheek. "Isla Prescott, we’ve already come this far. It’s about time you learned to take whatever you want from me."
Isla Prescott had just been through a storm of passion, yet as she looked into his tender eyes, her body once again sent out that subtle but intense signal.
She reached out, wrapped her arms around Shane Sterling’s neck, and stood on her toes to kiss him.
They thought a shower would save time, but they ended up entangled for even longer.
After the shower, Shane Sterling wrapped Isla Prescott in a bath towel and carried her to his large bed.
"Let’s dry your hair first."
He found a hairdryer and stood by the bed to dry Isla Prescott’s hair. As he was drying it, Shane Sterling bent down and gently bit her neck.
The line of her neck was long and beautiful. When she lowered her head, the pale, slender curve of her nape was exposed, like the delicate stem of a flower—fragile and captivating.
He’d wanted to do this the last time he dried her hair.
Worried he’d leave a mark on her neck, Isla Prescott turned her head, frowning as she glared at him.
From Shane Sterling’s perspective, her pouty, indignant look was utterly adorable.
He couldn’t resist. He casually switched off the hairdryer, leaned over, and embraced her.
Isla Prescott had already weathered a tempest in the shower and knew what was coming next, but the moment Shane Sterling’s lips met hers, her heart still pounded like a drum, and her shoulders went rigid.
"Don’t be nervous." Shane Sterling untied the towel around his waist and took a small square packet from the nightstand drawer. He kissed her ear reassuringly. "Imagine I’m strawberry-flavored."
Isla Prescott laughed. "How am I supposed to look at strawberries the same way again?"
"If you can’t look at them straight on, you can look down at them, glance at them, or give them a sidelong look. There are always more solutions than problems."
She was shaking with laughter.
Shane Sterling hovered over her. "Still nervous?"
Isla Prescott shook her head.
He lowered his head and captured her lips.
Isla Prescott felt like a vine caressed by a spring breeze, stretching, twining, and swaying between his fingers.
Their increasingly heated breaths wove into a web. The scent of her hair mingled with their panting. In truth, Shane Sterling was the more nervous one, but he was good at hiding it.
It all felt like a dream.
He finally had the woman he loved.
"Ngh!"
Isla Prescott clutched the bedsheets, tears of pain streaming down her face.
Shane Sterling froze. A few seconds later, he had already finished, sputtering out.
Ignoring his own embarrassment, Shane Sterling immediately hugged Isla Prescott. "Are you okay?"
Isla Prescott nodded, enduring the pain. Seeing how worried he was, she mustered the energy to tease him, "Now I believe this is Young Mr. Sterling’s first time."
"..."
It was rare for Shane Sterling to be at a loss for words.
They say men are usually fast their first time, but he had been *too* fast. The main reason was that he hadn’t expected Isla Prescott to be a virgin too. His nervousness, the resistance he felt, and her tears all added up to a zero-point performance.
"You should have told me beforehand," Shane Sterling said, stroking her hair at the temples.
"What?"
"That it was your first time. ’Even though I’d done plenty of foreplay, if I had known it was your first time, I definitely would have been more patient and gentler.’"
"I was afraid you’d get nervous."
"I..." Shane Sterling faltered. "When was I nervous?"
Isla Prescott smiled. "Don’t be so stubborn, Young Mr. Sterling. You’d better just admit you were nervous. Otherwise, how do you explain those few seconds?"
"If I had lasted a long time right from the start, you’d just be suspicious about my lack of experience again. That would be even harder to explain, wouldn’t it?"
"Actually, I don’t care whether you have experience or not," Isla Prescott said, looking into Shane Sterling’s eyes. "Do you care? About whether this is my first time?"
"I don’t care."
Shane Sterling didn’t have a virginity complex. He felt that life was like a great, rushing river, carrying both mud and sand. What was truly precious wasn’t the traces left behind by what had been washed away, but the clear water flowing in the present moment.
It was the same with relationships. Past experiences were in the past; loyalty in the present was what mattered most.
More than subscribing to such old-fashioned, outdated complexes projected onto women, he was driven by a sense of masculine competition.
He had assumed that after dating Silas Lockwood for half a year, Isla Prescott was already experienced in matters between men and women. In order not to lose to Silas and to give Isla a better experience, God knows how many "instructional" videos he had secretly studied to create that peak of ecstasy they’d just reached in the shower.
But now, he realized his only rival in bed was the version of himself from the shower.
"Does it still hurt?" Shane Sterling’s gaze drifted downward, wanting to check on her.
Isla Prescott shyly hugged him tighter. "It doesn’t hurt anymore."
"Then let’s forget what just happened and start over, okay?" he coaxed in her ear.
She was a little worried about his condition. "Can you... still go?"
"No man likes being questioned like that. Whether I can or not, I’m about to show you."
Shane Sterling tore open another small square packet.
Outside, the sky had grown dark. The room’s lights were off, and in the darkness, every sound was amplified—tangled kisses, gasps, muffled moans... The screen window was lifted by the night breeze, and moonlight flowed over their two overlapping shadows, now submerging them, now revealing them, like the rhythm of the tide caressing a reef...
