The Virgin Gift(15)



We’d set rules for a reason; we’d erected boundaries because we had to.

I had to honor them. And part of honoring them was keeping the focus on her. Her list included touching a man for the first time, but it sure as hell didn’t include a handjob. It did, however, explicitly detail something else involving hands. My hand. I was a diligent teacher, and I planned to give my student what she’d asked for.

I ran a finger across her soft cheek. “Yes. You can touch me. And then we’ll do number seven. You can watch me jack myself till I come on your lips.”

Call it the number seven special.

Her brown eyes lit up with desire. “Yes.”

A minute later, I’d untied her hands, pulled up her pants, and unzipped my jeans. I freed my length from the confines of my boxer briefs.

She licked her lips when she saw my dick for the first time. I gripped my shaft, stroking it once, long and lingering, watching her eyes turn hazier with lust.

When I reached the tip, I said, “Get on your knees.”

She dropped to the floor.

“Give me your right hand.”

She lifted it, offering it to me. I took her hand, wrapping mine over hers as I brought her soft palm to my shaft. The second she touched me, her whole body seemed to melt. She pressed her lips together, like she was holding in some kind of sound of wonder, like she’d stepped outside after a winter’s worth of snow and experienced sunshine. Like she was soaking in warmth for the first time in ages.

“Adam,” she said in a heady whisper, her eyes wide.

I could feel my control slipping with the way she said my name. I had to remember who we were—in this moment, she couldn’t be Nina, my good friend. She was the woman who wanted to know how it felt to be dirty for the first time.

And dirty girls needed instructions from their teachers.

“Grip me harder,” I ordered.

She circled her hand tighter, making a fist, and a groan worked its way up my chest. To be touched like this, by someone taking her first trip to this country was so intense, so much sexier than I’d ever expected.

A wave of pleasure crashed over me as Nina caressed my throbbing length, stroking up and down. “You’re so hard, and the skin is so soft,” she said, whispering like she was in church.

The moment felt that way. Reverent.

But unholy, too, because of what I was about to do to her. The angels would look the other way and shield their eyes when they saw what was coming.

“One more stroke, dirty girl. That’s all you get,” I said.

“But you feel so good,” she pleaded, staring at my length, then looking into my eyes as she touched me, sending red-hot sparks through my body. “I love it,” she whispered under her breath, like she was confessing a secret.

My erection twitched in her hand because, hell, I loved it too.

Too much.

“That’s enough,” I said crisply. “Time for number seven. Just the way you want it. Put your hands behind your back, and watch me. Don’t take your eyes off me.”

“I won’t.”

With her like that, on her knees, gazing at me, I stroked my shaft, grateful for the relief. I was so wound up, so turned on from her coming, from her touching me, that it wouldn’t take long. But I needed a little something.

“Get my dick wet with your juices. Make it easier for me to jack off in front of you, like you want.”

Thrusting her hand inside her jeans and between her legs, she coated her fingers in the evidence of her climax. She reached for my erection, then spread her wetness along my length. The look in her irises as she touched me was one of wild thrill.

“Good. Now watch me. Don’t close your eyes at all.”

She wrapped her arms behind her back and didn’t look away.

With my fist curled tight, I stroked hard, fast, rough. Long thrusts and jerks as all the pent-up pleasure tore through me like a tsunami, taking me to the edge in mere minutes.

“Open your lips, sweet girl.”

She took orders like she took pictures. With precision and focus and passion. Her lips parted, and she waited for me to come on her lips.

My orgasm ripped through me, and I gave it all to her.

My greedy girl lapped me up like I was dessert, like she was famished and she intended to finish every last drop on her lips.

I shuddered, the aftershocks rocking through me in a blast of white-hot pleasure.

When I settled, I pulled up my jeans and told her to stay put, my voice softer now. “I’ll be right back, baby. I’m going to clean those gorgeous lips of yours.”

Shortly I returned from the guest room with a wet washcloth, wiped the come off her chin, then washed my hands. I set the cloth on the counter, making a mental note to toss it in the wash later. Obviously.

I reached for her, and she rose, those eyes wide and curious as she asked, “Was that good for you?”

I sighed happily, but sadly too. How could she think this night was anything but perfect?

I clasped her cheeks, speaking the full truth. “Tonight was in another realm. And there’s more where that came from.”

She shot me a small smile, still a little nervous, but a little eager too. “Good. I want more.”

“I’ll give you everything you want,” I said, and then I took something I wanted.

I wanted a good night kiss.

A tender kiss.

Lauren Blakely's Books