Rock Chick Renegade (Rock Chick #4)(49)

I tried to turn, to touch him but his arms tensed and he held me where I was.

I gave up, giving into the sensations. I felt his teeth nip my shoulder, catching the strap of my nightgown. His body moved as his mouth pulled down the strap, exposing my breast. He was now skin-against-skin at my breast, one of his fingers slid inside me and I felt heat slice through my body.

I tried to turn again but he kept me where I was, finger moving in and out and instinct made my h*ps move with it, riding his hand.

“Jesus, Jules,” he said at my neck, his voice hoarse and his finger slid away and touched me again, moving, swirling and I felt it coming.

I’d had orgasms before, self-induced, but it was nothing like this, nothing at all. It overwhelmed me, I sucked in breath and Vance knew it was going to happen.

He rolled me to my back, his hand still between my legs, I wrapped my arms around him, bucked my hips, his mouth came to mine and it hit me.

And when it did I moaned his name.

The minute I finished his name, he moved away and I made a detached mew of protest at the loss of his heat and hand but he wasn’t going anywhere.

I was still in the throes of my orgasm when he tore my panties down my legs, spread my thighs and he came up between them and filled me.

It didn’t hurt, not at all. Instead it felt beautiful.

I whispered his name again. He pulled up my legs at the knees, pushing deeper, moving rhythmically and my h*ps matched the movements of his.

“Jesus Christ, you’re tight,” he muttered into my neck and I wrapped my arms around him, pulling my knees back further so he could slide deeper

He went up on his hands, grinding into me, looking down at me, his eyes dilated, his hair around his shoulders.

Looking up at him, at that moment, he was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

“Come back to me,” I murmured and the minute I asked, he did, his hand moving between us, touching me, pressing into me. I was sensitive there, ready again. I started panting, it was too much; I thought it would shatter me.

“Vance,” I whispered in an urgent voice.

“Let go,” he told me, deep voice husky, eyes staring into mine.

I did.

A few minutes later, he did too.

* * * * *

I used to go to summer camp in the mountains for two weeks and, when I got older, I became a camp counselor.

We did a lot of horseback riding.

Maybe Indy was wrong and it wasn’t an urban myth.

Whatever. It didn’t matter.

What mattered was the fact that I just discovered that sex was great. Sex was wonderful. Sex was the best thing ever invented.

Vance’s weight was on me, pressing me into the bed. He was still inside me, my arms wrapped around his waist, thighs tight against his h*ps and I was thinking stupid thoughts, my mind racing, my body spent.

Vance slowly, gently slid out of me and shifted to the side, taking me with him. I lifted my chin to look at him, maybe even smile at him but with one look I knew something was definitely not right.

Damn.

Maybe I’d done it wrong.

“Vance…”

His eyes were intense, more intense than his normal intense. Something was in his face, something not right and I didn’t know if it was good or bad but whatever it was, it was immense.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked.

So that was it.

I shook my head.

His hand moved between us then between my legs, touching me gently and my h*ps jerked at his touch because I was still tender.

The whole time he looked into my eyes, staring at me in that intense way.

“What are you doing?” I whispered.

“Checkin’ for blood.”

My breath caught.

Oh crap.

He knew. He knew I was a virgin.

How did he know?

It was my turn to stare at him.

“Are you on the pill?” he asked.

I shook my head again.

His hand came away, his eyes went to it then he moved to the bottom of the bed and dropped over the edge silently. I stared at him while he did this, stunned immobile then his hands wrapped around my ankles and he dragged me down the bed, caught me when I came over the side and put me on my feet.

“What are you doing?” I asked, unable to keep up.

He grabbed my hand and pulled me into the bathroom.

“Am I bleeding?”

“No.”

“Then, why –?”

He stopped in the bathroom and nabbed a rolled washcloth (mint green, Egyptian cotton, my towels were lush) out of a basket on the back of the toilet. He threw it into the sink and turned on the tap.

“Vance, for God’s sake, what are you doing?” I snapped, my patience spent.

He came at me, face clouded.

I took one look at his face and retreated. Without far to go in the small room, my back hit the bathroom wall and his body came up against mine.

“You were a virgin,” he said.

I opened and shut my mouth three times not knowing what to say.

“Don’t deny it.”

“How did you know?” I whispered.

“No one’s that f**kin’ tight. Jesus, Jules, why didn’t you say anything?”

“Turn off the faucet,” I said in an effort to stall. I did not want to have this particular conversation.

“Answer me,” he demanded. Vance was apparently intent on having this particular conversation.