The Virgin's Night Out (4 page)

In an instant, he stood. “Then let’s just take care of that.”

The hotel bed was surprisingly comfortable and he caught the blanket in his fist, jerked it back, flinging it to the far side of the room. If he left it anywhere close, he could already see her trying to hide behind it. He lay her down on the bed and took a moment to stare. Maybe she hadn’t wanted the light on, but Boone could see her just fine, thanks to the light coming in through the window, filtering in through the sheer panels. There were light-darkening curtains, but he hadn’t pulled those yet and he was grateful.

He had all the light he needed to admire the long, muscled length of her legs, the flare of her hips. She went to lift her knee, shielding herself and he caught her ankle, dragging it down. She resisted at first but then relaxed.

He caught the waistband of her panties and tugged them down, tossing them to the side of the room before he stretched out next to her. “You…” She hesitated and he heard her swallow as he trailed his fingers along the line of her collarbone. “You’re still dressed.”

“Yeah.” He pushed up onto his elbow and started to follow the line his fingers his hand taken, brushing his lips across smooth, soft skin. The scent of her flooded his head. Something soft and sweet, just barely there. “I’ll get around to dealing with that.”

Covering her belly with his palm, he eased his mouth lower and lower. Her breasts were small and firm, the nipples tight. He tugged on one with teeth and when she muffled her moan by biting her lip, he sighed. Her skin broke out into goosebumps and he took his time to tease her other nipple into a tight, hard bud and then blew on it, watching as she shivered. “The harder you try to be quiet, the more determined I am to hear you break for me.”

He flicked her a look and then pressed a kiss to the middle her chest, easing a little lower before he did the same thing, then lower and lower.

She caught his shoulders, fisting her hands in the material of his shirt. “Wait—what are you…you…”

He licked at the crease between her thigh. “You just lie back. You better get ready, because I’m getting determined at this point.”

“Determined to do what?”

“Hear you moan.” He was closer now and her breathing hitched. He shot one more look up at her before he lowered his mouth.

The first taste of her made
him
groan.

Whether or not she made any sound, he didn’t know because he was too lost in the sound of blood roaring, all but clamoring in his ears as he fought his own greed.
More…more…more
—

She bucked against him. Bracing his arm over her hips, he held her down as he used his tongue to open her.

A soft cry bounced off the walls but he didn’t take the time to enjoy that small victory. He was too busy enjoying
her
. Her hands left his shoulder, one of them brushing against the side of his head before falling away. He shifted his rhythm and her hand returned, firmer and he followed her cue. The feel of her nails biting into the nape of his neck, the way she shuddered and lifted her hips to his mouth—it had his cock throbbing, pulsing.

He thought he just might die if he didn’t feel her come around him soon.

But he thought he’d almost kill before he’d stop doing what he was doing.

She was shaking, shuddering from her climax—and moaning—when he finally lifted his head. He licked his lips, savoring that taste of her as he settled on his heels between her legs. She lay there, loose and limp, her lashes down low, her chest rising and falling with the broken pattern of her breathing. He stripped his shirt away, tossing it off into the darkness.

He fought with his buckle, saw that his hands were shaking. He could hold take out a target at two thousand yards and his hands would be completely steady. But this woman had reduced him to this.

Too impatient to deal with his boots, he fumbled his jeans, grimacing at almost painful release of pressure once he freed his cock. He chanced a glance upward and immediately swore. She had opened her eyes, a sleepy, sated look on her face, one that was both heated and shy as she watched him.

The three condoms he’d taken from her suddenly seemed like a miserable amount. He could imagine spending the next eight, ten, twelve hours—hell, the next week wrapped around her body, feeling her wrapped around him.

Her shaky sigh came to him and he hurriedly dealt with the condom, tossing the other two onto the nightstand before he came down over her, staring at her in the dim light. It wasn’t enough now. It didn’t matter that he could see her face, that top-heavy mouth or the way her lips parted as he settled between her thighs.

He wanted to see the color her skin would go as he brought her to orgasm and he wanted to see just how dark and silken her hair looked spread out on his pillow.

He caught one thigh in his hand, brought it up to his hip. It opened her and he slid against her, not trying to enter her, just feeling her—the silken kiss of her pussy against his cock had him gritting his teeth.

This wouldn’t last.

Sliding his hand down, he reached down, seeking out the knot of her clit. She moaned. He wasn’t so far gone that he didn’t notice she still bit her lip. He did the same and then soothed the small hurt with his tongue. “You’re going to stop that. I’ll make you scream before I’m done.”

She whimpered and rocked up against his hand and he followed each sound, each sigh until she was sweating and writhing under his hand, her mouth blindly seeking out his.

This time, when she came, she moaned into his mouth.

Boone couldn’t wait any longer. Wedging himself between her widespread thighs, he tucked his aching cock against her entrance. She shuddered and arched up.

He groaned and drove down.

She was tight, gripping him like a fist, a broken sound escaping her.

He caught it with his lips and withdrew, mindless with need for her. As she lifted her hips, he drove in, hard, deep—

She screamed.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out the scream wasn’t all pleasure.

Hovering on the fine edge of pleasure and pain, Sloane stared up at him.

She felt impaled by him—completely. She felt too full and every little shift of her body wedged him deeper and deeper.

Rolling her hips, trying to find a more comfortable position, she felt him shudder.

“Fuck—don’t…” His head dropped onto the pillow next to hers. “Don’t do that. Let me…I’m going to pull out.”

She tensed up and then, following instinct, she wrapped her legs around his hips. “Like hell.”

His body tensed. “You’re a fucking virgin.”

She didn’t say anything.

“Aren’t you?” When she didn’t respond, he lifted his head and this time, thanks to the fact that her eyes were adjusting and thanks to the dim light filtering in through the curtains, she could almost make out his features—and she could see his eyes, the glint of them as he focused on her face.

She still had that odd feeling he could see her much more clearly than she could see him. Determined to brazen her way through it, she shrugged. “Well, I’m not now.”

“That’s not funny.”

“I’m not trying to be.”

He made a movement like he was going to try to pull away and she tightened her legs and arched against him.

A long, low groan rumbled out of him. “Would you…stop…just stop.” In contrast to his words, he rocked against her and it brought a wave of pleasure that edged back the miserable discomfort still twisting inside her.

“No.” She closed her eyes and focused on the heat building in her core—on the way she could feel the heated ridge of his length inside her. He pulsed and she gasped. Her muscles clenched around him.

That brought a ragged snarl to his lips.

So she did it again.

He drove his hips into her, a short, shallow thrust that barely hurt at all and she whimpered.

“This is fucking insane,” he muttered, skimming his lips along her cheek. “I don’t sleep with virgins.”

“We won’t sleep then.” She grabbed at his biceps and twisted her hips, trying to take him deeper when he did another one of those short, shallow thrusts.

He took her mouth then, reaching behind to unlock her ankles from where she’d hooked them over his ass. She resisted and he rubbed his lips over her mouth. “You win, angel.” The words were a harsh growl against her lips. “Damn us both. I can’t even think about stopping.”

She let him shift her then and he gripped one knee, held it to his hip. Sloane closed her eyes as he pulled out, moaned as he slowly surged back in.

“That’s it.”

She opened her eyes, confused.

“Moan. I want to hear it…everything I make you feel. Moan, scream…” He bit her lower lip. “Beg.”

He twisted his hips and it had him butting up against something deep inside her. Her eyes flew wide. Fire started to pulse inside her, licking at her veins, threatening to burn her from the inside out.

“There?” He fisted a hand in her hair when she tried to turn her head away. “No. Look at me. I want to see you…don’t close your eyes, either.”

She sucked in a breath. “You…” She shuddered as he slowed his thrusts. He barely withdrew now so it was an endless caress. “That’s…”

She didn’t know what she was trying to say and he kept watching her. Under those too-watchful eyes, she felt stripped to the bone and in desperation, she curled an arm around his neck, pulling his mouth down to hers.

Her pussy was a fist around his cock.

He tilted her hips up, changed his angle just a little and felt it—her body went tight and now, each time he rocked up against her, it was like she was milking him, tighter and tighter until he thought he’d go insane.

Boone could feel the sweat sliding down his spine, could feel the need to come building at the base of his spine, tightening his balls, but he held it off. Not until she came.

A fucking virgin—

He shifted his grip on her hip and tucked her up higher against him, lifting his weight off her, then pulled out, almost completely. When he slid back inside, he let his body drag against hers and he felt her nipples rub against him, the silk of her belly, the satin of her thighs and it was the sweetest of tortures.

She cried out—and she didn’t even think to silence it.

He repeated that same action and she started to tremble.

Again…again…

On the fifth stroke, she planted her heels on the bed and arched up, rising to meet him. His lower body went tight and he thought he’d die if she didn’t—

She climaxed.

He felt it, starting in her belly and then spreading out, as her pussy began to grip him, tight rhythmic sensations as her body began to shudder with the force of it.

Yes—

He let go then. Shoving back onto his knees, he caught her hips and drove in, deep, hard. She cried out, a low, keening sound that tripped down his spine and all but wrapped a fist around his balls.

Not enough
.

This one time was not enough.

He hadn’t spoken more than two words in the past thirty minutes.

Sloane knew, because she’d been counting each and every minute. She kept her eyes on the digital clock and could almost count down every minute by the beat of her heart.

When he first pulled out, she’d felt bruised, almost painfully empty and unsure of what to do, how to act. Did she get dressed? Leave?

He’d disappeared into the bathroom and she’d wondered maybe she should just get up and go.

But even as she’d sat up to do that, he’d come back out, slid into the bed behind her and pulled her up against him.

“You okay?”

She’d nodded and he’d sighed, tucking her into the curve of his body. It felt…good. Almost perfect, actually and she hadn’t been able to pull away.

But that had been thirty minutes ago and the silence was killing her.

She licked her lips and told herself it was time to go.

Taking a deep breath, she went to sit up.

And his lips brushed over her shoulder.

“You have the softest skin.”

The words were soft, so soft they came like a caress in the darkness.

She shivered as he gathered up her hair and pushed it over her shoulder, pressed a kiss to her spine, now bared. “And your hair…I wanted to wrap it around my hands and kiss you practically the moment I saw you.”

“You…” Sloane blinked. “You what?”

He laughed in the darkness. “You heard me.”

He rolled her onto her belly and she didn’t think to resist. When he reached between her thighs, she caught her breath. “Are you sore?” he asked, pushing one finger inside her.

She moved her hips back against him, barely able to focus on his question. Was she sore? Yes. Did it matter? Not to her.

“If I say yes, are you going to stop?” she asked.

“It depends on how sore you are,” he said. “And whether or not you want me to stop.”

She jumped as she felt his lips brush over the curve of her butt. “Your legs are killing me. I want to feel you riding me, feel you wrapped around me again,” he said, the words murmured against her skin. “How sore are you?”

“Not very sore,” she lied.

He caught her hips and rearranged her, half on her side, half on her belly. Her hair fell around her veil and he caught it in his hand, brushed it away. Her mouth parted as he straddled one of her thighs and lay down against her. “Should I stop?” he said.

“Please don’t.”

Closing her eyes, she lay there, unmoving, as he reached around. She knew what he was doing when she heard the foil rip and she tried not to think about anything as he put the rubber on. But she couldn’t stop it—couldn’t stop herself from thinking about the movement of his hands, the muscled length of his thighs, and then… “Oh…” the moan tripped out of her as he pressed against her.

“I’ll be slower this time.” He slid one hand up and cupped her breast as he pushed into her from behind, his thrusts slow, less deep…but still every bit as intimate and because she was still so sensitive, she felt stretched too tight and too full and she loved every long, lingering minute.