A Million Kisses in Your Lifetime (Lancaster Prep )(95)

Nervous laughter leaves her. “We’re being a little ridiculous.”

“Just having fun.” I shrug.

“Is that what sex is to you? Fun?”

I can’t describe any of my previous sexual experiences as fun. I was always just looking to get off, and to make sure she got off too. No savoring or lingering necessary.

“Not really.”

“Oh.” She rubs her fingers in between the valley of her breasts, seemingly lost in thought. “I’ve always taken it so seriously. Sex.”

“I know. You’ve got a ring on your finger to prove that.” I nod toward her left hand.

Wren glances down at the diamond ring her father gave her, twisting it around and around her finger before she slowly starts to pull it off. “This has felt like a burden lately. A reminder of what I shouldn’t do.”

“If you don’t want to—” I start, but she shakes her head, cutting me off.

“No. I want to. I do.” She climbs off the bed, dropping the ring onto the nightstand before she slowly approaches me.

Toeing off my boots, I wait for her, my breath stuck in my throat, my gaze pinging everywhere, too many pretty places to look at once. Her smooth, creamy skin. Her tits straining against the lace. The dip of her waist, the flare of her hips in those jeans. She kicked off her boots when we first entered the cabin and she seems shorter than usual. Smaller.

The need to protect her is fierce. Piercing my steely heart and filling me with all sorts of unfamiliar urges. I want to haul her into my arms and never let her go. Protect her from every other asshole out there who wants to steal her from me. Because if they knew, if they knew just how sweet she is, how sexy, they’d all want her.

She reaches out, settling her hands on my rib cage, her fingers spanning wide, as if she wants to touch as much of my skin at once as possible. It’s like she’s counting my ribs, memorizing the pattern of my skin, her touch featherlight. Goosebumps rise, a shiver stealing over me, and my heart thuds harder. Faster.

Her hands slide down, fingers curling around the waistband of my jeans, her knuckles brushing my skin. I swallow the groan in my throat, holding my breath as she spreads the front of my jeans open wider. As wide as the denim will go.

Wren lifts her gaze to mine, holding steady as she slides her hand inside the front of my jeans, her fingers curling around my cock, lightly holding me. Her breaths are coming rapidly, I can tell by the quickening rise and fall of her chest, and this time around, I let the groan escape when she gives me a squeeze.

“You’re big.”

What every guy wants to hear.

Her brows lower in concern. “Will it fit?”

“It’ll fit,” I rasp. “As long as you’re wet and relaxed.”

Her tongue sneaks out, licking the corner of her lips. “I’m wet right now.”

Jesus Christ, this girl. She is unbelievable.

“So are you,” she continues. “The front of your boxers is damp.”

I close my eyes. She keeps talking like this and I’ll come where I stand.

“You touch me like that and that’s what happens,” I tell her through gritted teeth.

“Hmmm.” She continues her exploration, her other hand tugging down my jeans. I help her out, pushing them down past my hips, until they’re crumpled around my ankles and I’m kicking them off. “Oh wow.”

Her gaze is glued to the front of my boxer briefs, my cock straining, dying to be freed.

“You can touch it,” I encourage her.

“This is…you’re impressive.” She lifts her gaze to mine. “I didn’t expect you to be so big. I think you’re bigger than that guy I watched in the porn.”

I want to laugh. I want to groan in absolute agony. The innocent things she says. The simple yet highly effective way she touches me. The lust in her gaze.

She’s driving me out of my mind.

Giving in, I cup the side of her face, tilting her head back so I can kiss her hungrily. She responds immediately, her lips parting, her tongue swirling around mine. I groan, taking a step closer, my hand falling to her chest, fingers curving around one luscious tit, brushing my thumb across her nipple. It’s already hard, and I circle it again and again, making her whimper. Her fingers tighten around my dick, and she gives it a tentative stroke.

My balls clench tighter, as if I could blow at any second.

With my other hand, I reach for the front of her jeans, undoing the snap with fumbling fingers, lowering the zipper. I dive my hand into her open jeans, my fingers encountering silky material, and I press my fingers against her pussy, the material already wet.

Just as she said it would be.

“Oh my God,” she whispers when I cup her fully, my fingers pressing hard. “That shouldn’t feel so good.”

“You like that, Birdy?” I stroke her up and down, using the friction of her panties to help get her off.

She nods, a helpless whimper leaving her, and I can’t stand it any longer.

Removing my hand from her panties, I crowd her, pushing her with my body to the bed, so her ass falls heavily onto the edge. She glances up at me, her eyes wide and unblinking as she reaches for me, sliding her hand up and down the front of my boxer briefs. I thrust my hips, pressing my cock into her palm, so she knows I like that.

“Tell me what to do next,” she whispers.