Page 37 of The Virgin Gift (The Gift 2)
“Maybe it does,” he said, then he drew me in for another kiss.
His tongue skated inside my mouth, and his lips felt hot and desperate. Like he was taking this kiss for the road.
Like it would be our last kiss.
My shoulders sank at that prospect, and already my chest panged with missing this.
This connection.
This kind of touch.
Now that I’d had it, how was I to go without it?
I didn’t want to return to the land of nothing. I wanted to stay here, tangled up in hot, sweaty, mind-altering bliss.
But the list wasn’t about my future. It was about my present, and that was where I needed to live, and to live fully.
I shoved all thoughts of tomorrow out of my head and surrendered to the power of his kiss. To his passion. To his need. My back bowed as he kissed the breath out of me, just the way I wanted.
When he broke the kiss, his hazel eyes were rimmed with longing.
But it didn’t feel sexual, strangely enough.
And he didn’t gaze at me like the dirty after-dark man I’d discovered he was over these last two nights.
He looked at me as my friend, as the man I trusted, the man who cooked for me and needled me over fun facts. The man who had a key to my home.
But in a flash, the familiarity of the last few years vanished.
His irises shone darker now, with a look that was becoming familiar too, in its own way.
His bedroom eyes.
He shifted behind me, sliding a hand from the small of my back up my spine, sending shivers through me. When he reached my neck, he scooped my hair away, brushing kisses along my skin, then nipping. “As much as I want to spread you out on your back and have you wrap your legs around me, that’s not what I’m going to do. Know why?”
“Why?” I asked, knowing the answer, but loving the game, savoring the questions.
“Because that’s not what your list is about. You’re not a missionary girl, and I am going to take you the way you want. Fuck me hard, fuck me good, fuck me for the first time,” he gritted out, reciting the words from my list.
“Oh God, yes,” I said, sinking deeper into the moment.
“And you know how you want it. You scripted it. You wrote it down.” His hand curled around my neck, gripping me tighter.
I gasped, knowing what was coming. “I want it that way. I want number nine.”
His mouth found my ear, and his voice was rougher than I’d ever heard it before. More demanding. “Then say it. Say it out loud. Tell me how you want me to take you for the first time.”
I shuddered, drawing a deep breath, needing fuel to say the words. But when you’ve spent all your sex life in your head, detailing your fantasies, building them, crafting them, and creating worlds around them, it turns out it’s not that hard to give voice to them at last. “Push me down on the bed. Pin me in place so I can’t move. Do it hard. And do it now. Please, Adam, do it now.”
The sound that rumbled up his chest was animalistic. It was obscene, and it thrilled me. His desire rocketed mine to another level.
The pulse beating between my legs turned into a needy throb, an insistent ache to be filled.
“Say it again. Beg me,” he ordered, pushing my face into the pillows.
My knees were tucked beneath me, my stomach arched, my breasts flat against the bed, my cheek against the pillow. I was under his control, and I was outrageously wet.
I wanted him to know how much. To see my desire. “Please, Adam. I’m begging you. I want you so much. I’m so turned on. I’m so wet I can’t take it.” I craned my neck to look at him, no easy feat since his hand was curled around me, pinning me in place. “Please.”
His eyes turned feral. “One more time, dirty girl. Give it to me one more time.”
My body shook with desire. I ached everywhere, desperate for him to slide inside me.
“Please, Adam. Please!” I cried out.
And that was enough for him.
With his hand still wrapped around my neck, he moved between my legs, pushing my knees wider so they were tucked alongside my body. I was his. His to enter, his to have.
I was giving him myself, and he was going to take me to the other side of desire.
He rubbed the head against my wetness, and I ignited. A moan fell from my lips.
“You’re so wet, dirty girl. So soft,” he said, praising me.
I’d miss that too when it was gone—his praise. Because his bedroom compliments sent me to another world, and I was already living on an erotic cloud nine.
Maybe this was cloud nine thousand.
