The Virgin Gift(13)

She stretched her arms across the counter, bending her back into a flat line, lifting her ass even higher. She turned her face to me, the good student eager to please her teacher. “Is this good?”

I gazed at her glistening sex.

She was bare, ready, and so goddamn beautiful.

Pink, virginal, pure.

And, according to her list, I was going to be the first one to touch her.

What a gift.

What a heady gift.

I’d take my sweet time opening this gift as I gave her the fantasy she craved—bound, exposed, fingered from behind.

My hands curled around her succulent ass, and she moaned, a delicious, needy sound.

I squeezed her flesh, savoring the feel of her in my palms.

She wriggled against me, her body making it damn clear that she liked it. That she wanted more.

That she needed to be touched, stroked, taken.

I planned to give it all to her, but first I had to go off script. For her, and for me. Because I wanted something desperately. As I kneeled behind her, she gasped, turning to look at me. Her eyes were wide and innocent.

Etched with filthy curiosity.

“I’m going to give you number four, but I need just a taste of you first,” I said, then licked a tantalizing line across her ass. Right there. That tempting crease where her ass met the top of her thigh. That absolutely intoxicating location on the map of a woman’s body. I traveled across it, flicking my tongue along that boundary.

She tasted so sweet, her skin smelling faintly of cherries. Of course. Cherries are sexy. They’re lipstick red. Lingerie red.

“Oh God,” she whispered.

I lavished the same attention on her other cheek, inhaling the scent of her arousal. Salty and sexy.

I couldn’t wait to taste her.

I rose and dipped my hand between her legs.

She gasped, then pressed her lips together, like she was holding in sounds.

I slid one finger across the most slippery, perfect flesh I’d ever felt. She shivered, but still stayed quiet.

That wouldn’t do. I had to help her through her nerves.

I dropped the dirty, rough tone I’d been using. “Nina, are you afraid to make a sound?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered, sounding fearful. “I’ve never done this. Except in my head.”

I bent over Nina, pressed my cheek to hers, gentle in my question. “Do you want me to stop?”

“God, no. It’s just . . .”

“Just what, baby?”

She squeezed her eyes shut, shuddering, but not from pleasure—from worry. “Adam . . . what if I’m too loud? What if the sounds I make are ridiculous?”

I chuckled softly and kissed her cheek. “I assure you, Nina, the sounds you make are going to be so goddamn sexy, they’ll only make me harder. Want to know how I know?”

“Yes,” she said softly, her body relaxing again.

I reached for her bound wrists, raised her arms, and spun her around. Guiding her hands to my jeans, I rubbed her palms over the outline of my erection. “Believe me now?”

She was quiet at first, her expression hard to read. Then her lips curved into a naughty grin. “I believe you, and I believe in your eight inches.”

I shook my head in admiration. “You naughty, sexy woman. Now let’s get you back where you belong.” I returned her to the position she’d been in, still me, still in my regular voice. “Tell me what you want. Do you want to scream? Do you want to moan? Do you want to cry out?”

“I do,” she said in a whisper. “I want all that.”

She was ready now; she had the reassurance. Rough again, husky again, I gave her a command. “Then do it. I want all your sounds, all your pleasure, all your ecstasy,” I said, then slid one arm up her body and into her hair. Gripping her gorgeous locks, I tugged, and she moaned instantly. “That’s right, dirty girl.” I pressed the outline of my erection against her bare ass, letting her feel what she did to me. “Your noises only arouse me. They only make me harder. Give them to me. Give them to me right now.”

Another needy moan was my reward.

My erection twitched, begging to be set free.

Not tonight.

Tonight was for her.

And for all her glorious wetness. With her ankles spread as far as they could go, I slid my other hand back between her legs.

I stroked, getting her ready, prepping her. The woman was so turned on, my fingers were coated in her in seconds as I played with her decadent center, sliding my fingertips between her lips, then rubbing that gorgeous swell. So hard, so insanely aroused.

She was a dream.

And my job was to deliver on her dream.

Part of me knew I should take her tenderly and go softly because this was all new to her. But another part knew I had to respect the woman’s wishes.

She didn’t want tender.

She’d made that damn clear.

But I was determined not to hurt her. I had to find the balance she might not even realize she needed. Had to help her feel safe, respected, before I pushed in the way she wanted.

I tested her first, dipping one finger inside.

So warm.

I tugged on her hair, pressed my lips to her neck, and whispered hotly, “Fuck my finger, dirty girl. Show me you want it.”

“I do. God, I want it so much,” she said, rocking back against me fast, furiously.