The V Card Page 9

  “I do, but I’d like to feast my eyes on them again. Turn back to me. I’ve seen how gorgeous you look in the lingerie I make. Now I want to see how gorgeous you look out of it.”

  Slowly, carefully, she turns to face me, revealing nearly every stunning inch of her. She’s ridiculously beautiful—the kind of angel fallen from the heavens men write poetry about. Innocence still flickers in her big eyes, making her all the more irresistible. She has no idea how dangerous she’s becoming, how easy it would be for her to hold a man’s soul in the palm of her hand.

  Hell, I would sell mine in a heartbeat if that was what it took to ensure my mouth was on her skin in the next ten seconds. My cock jerks again, throbbing insistently in my pants, demanding to be allowed to attend the party.

  Control. Must maintain control . . .

  “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” I say, my jaw clenched in an attempt to keep from scaring her, but my next words still emerge as a growl. “Come. Here. Right now.”

  She tosses her dark hair to the side again—God, she has a lot of hair, wild hair, all wavy and messy, the way I like it. “Now?” she asks, teasing me, apparently having no idea how close I am to the edge.

  “Now,” I repeat, my voice harsh. By the time she glides to a stop in front of me, my restraint is wearing thin. From the edge of my seat, I reach out and, almost violently, yank her close. The air whooshes out of her lungs as she braces her hands on my shoulders, setting her breasts to bobbing so near to my face it almost kills me.

  “Did I really drive you crazy?” she breathes, excitement and surprise clear in her gaze as she meets mine. “You still look fairly calm.”

  I take her hand and plant it flush against my chest, covering it with my own. “Feel that?”

  Her eyes widen as my heart does its best to jackhammer through my ribs. “Wow.”

  “Indeed,” I agree, letting my gaze roam over every inch of her. “Do I have permission to touch, Stripper Goddess CJ?”

  “Oh, yes, please,” she whispers, her fingers threading gently into my hair.

  Carefully, I plant my hands on the backs of her thighs, drawing her closer then skimming my palms up over the ample curve of her ass. I can feel her tremble as I bend to kiss her belly, traveling to her navel, her hipbone.

  “You taste like honey.” I open my mouth, my tongue swirling into the hollow near her hip, wanting to lick every inch of her at once.

  I lower my face to the top of her blush-pink panties, pressing a kiss to the fabric, inhaling her sexy scent as I do.

  “Graham,” she says my name so softly it barely registers.

  “Yes, Butterfly?” I look up at her. Her brown eyes are fierce and strong, full of passion.

  “There’s a problem with my panties.”

  My brow knits. “What?”

  “A big problem.”

  “These panties were tested six ways to Sunday by the design team.” I shake my head. I can’t conceive of what possible problem there would be. The fit, the feel—everything looks like it’s made for her body. That’s what my team does. They make beautiful lingerie that hugs the woman who wears it.

  The flicker of a smirk spreads on her face. “That’s not the problem.”

  Chapter Twelve

  CJ

  He stares at me with worry in his blue eyes.

  He’s going to learn he has nothing to worry about.

  And I’m about to experience something wholly new for me.

  Stepping into the role of a seductress.

  I lean closer to him, my breasts dangerously near his face, my lips moving closer to his ear. A thrill races through me at what I’m about to do, and I can barely hear him over the heartbeat pounding in my ears.

  I’m not climbing a mountain or diving out of a plane, but to me this feels the same. I’m letting go of my safety harness and stepping into the sexual unknown. So far, he’s directed me. He’s told me what to do. I’ve cherished him taking the lead, and I want him to keep doing so.

  But for a moment, I want to hold the reins.

  My lips reach his earlobe, and I nip ever so gently on it. He groans like an animal, and the sound electrifies me. “The problem is,” I whisper, “that they’re still on.”

  His breath hisses, and he grunts my name like it’s a forbidden word. “CJ.”

  And then I take the next leap, telling him what I want. “Take them off,” I whisper.

  A growl is my reward, masculine and husky and so damn sexy. “You had me going, and look at you. You’re teasing the teacher, and I fucking love it.”

  I want to shout it worked, it worked, but I’m too turned on to do anything but melt into his touch. I thought I was turned on the last time we were alone, but this is even more intense, like tiny electrical shocks are racing across my skin.

  He hooks his fingers in the sides of my panties, and with a jerk, takes the reins again. I step out of the lingerie.

  “Now spread your legs for me, Butterfly. Let me see you.”

  Flushed all over and dizzy with desire, I weave my fingers into his hair, holding onto him for support as I part my trembling legs, widening my stance, grateful that once again he’s in charge.

  “So sexy, so hot,” he says, gazing hungrily at my newly exposed skin. Then, without warning, he leans over, flicking his tongue over the seam of me, and my knees go boneless.

  God, how can one simple touch of his tongue be so intense?

  I feel it everywhere, absolutely everywhere as he licks me again, teasing and probing, exploring me until I truly can’t stand another moment. I gasp as my legs buckle.

  “I’ve got you, baby.” He catches me, easily lifting me into his arms and carrying me to the fairy-tale bed.

  When he lays me down on the smooth white sheets, my pulse spikes, anxiety rearing its terrified head as he kneels between my legs and runs his warm hands down my thighs. I’m naked as the day I was born, and he’s still fully dressed.

  I blush at the inequity, my voice raspy as I ask, “What are you doing?”

  “Finishing what I started,” he says, his hands hooking behind my knees.

  I know what he means, and I want it—oh, God, how I want it—but it feels even more intimate like this, lying down and stripped bare, with nothing to hide behind and nowhere to run if things get too intense. “I don’t know if—”

  “It’s okay. I know,” he says, slowly but surely spreading my legs wide. “And I need to make you come on my mouth, Butterfly. I need it like I need air.”

  Far be it from me to deny him breathing.

  He lowers his face, kissing me there with such reverence my heart breaks a little. I never imagined it could be like this, that kinky things could be so unbearably sweet or filled with so much affection. That they could make me feel not just turned on, but cracked open, like a flower widening to the sun with no choice but to reach out and soak in the light it needs to stay alive.

  But this might kill you. To have this and then lose it so fast . . .

  For a moment, the thought is enough to scare away the rush of pleasure, but then Graham moans and tilts his face, beginning to devour me with a single-minded intensity that leaves no doubt he loves everything he’s doing to me, and I let go. I let go of worry and fear, and I give in to this, to this man who is everything I hoped he would be and so much more.

  I fantasized about him when I was younger. But I never expected true pleasure could be this good, this transporting. I never knew he’d enjoy it so much, either, but judging from the sounds he’s making as he devours me, we’re both sliding into a new plane of bliss.

  I relax into sensation, letting my knees fall wide open, threading my fingers through his hair. Pure pleasure radiates through me as his tongue laps me up. It’s such an intoxicating mix of soft and filthy at the same damn time.

  He slips his hands under my ass, pulling me to the edge of the bed and spreading me as his tongue glides across my wetness, up and down, then centering on my clit, where I ache for him. I ache
exquisitely, and he knows just how to satisfy the need howling inside of me. He flicks his tongue, slow and deliberate, making my hips shoot up. Oh God, but I need more. More of him there, oh there, yes, there . . .

  I rock into him, and he strokes faster, lavishing attention where I want him most, driving me into a fevered frenzy.

  “Right there, oh yes, please, yes,” I beg, gripping his hair more roughly, bringing him even closer as he sucks hard on my clit and the storm inside me intensifies.

  My head thrashes from side to side, my hair flying into my face. “Oh, God, Graham. Oh, God,” I gasp, and then I’m hurtling over the edge, coming with such force that it feels as if I’m tearing apart at the seams, shattering as my insides clench and release with a ferocity that is almost frightening.

  I’ve always loved being scared. Only this isn’t terrifying in the same way. This is wonderful and wicked, and it makes me feel so much more alive, like my entire body is plugged in, lit up and flickering with a million lights.

  I run my hands through his hair, expecting him to slow his pace and stop, but he doesn’t. He continues to consume me, his tongue pulsing deep inside, drawing out the exquisite release until I feel as if I’m having an out-of-body experience. Or perhaps another orgasm.

  An unexpected second wave crashes over me, and I cry out. My vision blurs.

  He slows his pace, pressing a final tender kiss to my center before he moves up.

  “Oh . . . my . . . God,” I pant, words becoming a hum of happiness as Graham rises over me and finds my lips with his, kissing me hard and deep. I taste myself on his tongue, but unexpectedly, I don’t mind it. In fact, I almost like it. He tastes like he belongs to me, like mine.

  Mine. Damn, but I like the sound of that way more than I should.

  “That was amazing,” I whisper, my voice dreamy. “Both.”

  “You’re amazing. Multiplied,” he says with a wink, then rolls onto his back in one swift motion. He pulls me on top of him, his hands cupping my ass as my thighs part and the thick ridge of his cock presses between my legs. Even through his pants, the sensation is enough to make me moan, low and hungry, in my throat.

  I want that. I want him. I’m ready for every inch, no matter how much it might hurt, because being without him inside me hurts so much more.

  “I’m ready,” I say, as his hands travel over my ribcage and mold to my breasts. He guides one to his mouth, circling his tongue on my nipple until it draws even tighter, harder.

  “Butterfly,” he says, full of concern, “it’s too soon. I don’t want to rush you.”

  I shake my head hard, nearly coming out of my skin as he sucks my nipple into his mouth. “But that makes me want it even more.”

  He chuckles against my skin. “I love that you want it. And you have to know how badly I do, too. But I’d be a terrible teacher if I let the second lesson get too far out of control.”

  He lets go of my breasts and shoots me a sexy smile. This man. He knows how to make a woman want him, crave him, need him.

  But it’s more than all that. After only two lessons, I’m dying for him.

  “I can’t believe you have me this worked up already,” I say softly.

  “You worked up is my favorite dirty dream.”

  I nibble on the corner of my lips, thinking of my dirty dreams, and how he’s starred in so many of them. How he’s guiding me through the reality of them now. And once more I step into the sensuality that he’s helping me see I possess.

  “I have dirty dreams about you,” I whisper.

  He swallows. “You do?” The words come out like gravel.

  I’ve surprised him again. Caught him off guard. And I like it.

  Based on the pulsing shaft pressing into me, he likes it, too.

  I nod. “I dream about stripping your clothes off.” I’m not going to bother with finesse. But I like speaking my dirty mind with him. A dirty mind I always knew I had but was never able to put to good use until him.

  He spreads his arms out wide on the bed, an invitation. “Then explore me, CJ. Take my clothes off like it’s your dirty dream.”

  “Is this lesson three?”

  A grin tells me he likes my impromptu plan. “Yes, it’s lesson three. You’re such a fast learner you deserve another session tonight.”

  He parks his hands behind his head.

  Part of me can’t believe this confident, cocky man wants a virgin to take his clothes off. But the look in his eyes says that’s precisely what he wants.

  Me.

  I’ve turned him on.

  I’ve aroused him.

  I’m going to undress him.

  Sparks race over my skin, and it’s hard to imagine I can want him this much after coming twice.

  But I’m learning all sorts of things are possible now that I’m visiting a country I’ve never traveled to before. One I very much want to spend a lot more time exploring.

  I scoot back and tug his white dress shirt from his pants.

  Graham has always looked good enough to eat, even clothed. I’ve feasted my eyes on him hundreds of times, but as my fingers open the small buttons of his crisp white shirt and spread it open, baring his chest, he literally takes my breath away.

  He’s the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.

  He has abs for days, and I trace the grooves of them with my fingertips. He shudders as I explore his flat belly, then again as I travel higher, my eager hands spreading over his firm, strong pecs. I sigh happily, certain now that I’m going to want to visit Graham Country many more times.

  I let my fingers skim the line of hair from his navel to the smattering of darker, curlier hair across his chest, and murmur, “You’re lovely.”

  “Like a butterfly?” he teases even as an almost pained expression crosses his face.

  “Yes,” I agree, laughing lightly. “Like a butterfly. A very manly butterfly.”

  I lean down to kiss him and end up nibbling on the skin of his abdomen the way he did mine. When I reach the close of his pants, I don’t hesitate to pop open the top button, unzip his zipper, and pull them down over his hips. The movement draws his boxer briefs down, too, but I don’t stop. I don’t hesitate. I keep drawing the fabric lower until his erection springs free and the tips of my fingers go numb.

  He’s long and thick and just the right amount of veiny. His shaft pulses as I stare at him, my throat going dry. I gulp. It’s beautiful, but huge, and I have no idea what I’m doing. Slowly, I reach out to touch the head, but my confidence drains away in a heartbeat. I don’t know how to touch a man.

  Graham, of course, notices. “You can stop,” he says, through a clenched jaw. “It’s okay.”

  Briefly, I consider stopping, letting that possibility play out. But that’s an abhorrent thought. I don’t want to stop. I want to know.

  I raise my chin, calling on my inner tough girl, and my most honest self. “No. Just . . . show me how to touch you.” My tongue slips out to wet my lips. “Teach me.”

  His eyes blaze with desire as he takes my hand and wraps it lightly around his thick shaft.

  He groans at the same time that I gasp.

  I murmur incoherent sounds in soft disbelief at how thick he is, how hard and heavy. At how desperately I can tell that he needs this. My touch.

  That emboldens me.

  I stroke him up and down, ending with a gentle squeeze, my eyes asking if it’s okay.

  Graham rewards me with a groan. “Fuck, yes. You got it, Butterfly. Just don’t stop.”

  “Are you sure I’m doing it right?” I ask, needing the confirmation again, even though he’s already given it.

  He laughs lightly. “I’m positive.” Then his laughter ends, and his eyes darken. “Do it again. Don’t stop.”

  As I run my hand along his erection, a worry tugs at me. This man is so skilled in the bedroom. Am I going to put him to sleep with my tentative explorations? I run my fingers down the length of his cock to his balls. I touch them, very gently, feeling inadequate an
d wishing I had done my research on how men like to have their balls played with.

  “I’m not going to break,” Graham rasps out, his fingers gently encircling my arm. “Look at me, CJ.”

  I do, blowing the hair out of my face with pursed lips.

  His eyes hold mine. His are fierce, honest, and a whole lot of hungry. “I promise you, there is nothing you can do that would be wrong. Nothing. You understand? That’s the lesson, CJ. You’re perfect as you are, and your touch drives me crazy.”

  “I want to do more than make you crazy,” I say, my fingers tightening around his shaft. I take a breath, gathering up the guts to say what I want more than anything right now. “I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel. I want to make you come, Graham. For me. Because of me.”

  Cursing under his breath, he nods. “Do you fucking know how close I already am? I want nothing more than to come all over your hand.”

  His words light me up. Electricity races through my body, a wild thrill at the prospect of bringing him to the cliff and then over. It’s dirty, it’s erotic, and it’s all so deliciously new. I want it desperately.

  “How do you want me to touch you?” I ask.

  He wraps his hand tighter around mine, guiding me up and down his length. Faster, rougher than I would on my own. “That’s what you do. You keep going,” he says, moving my hand even faster. “Up and down, not too hard, probably a little faster near the end. We’re a lot less complicated than women.”

  “Easy sounds good to me right now.”

  “Trust me. You’re making me look so fucking easy.”

  His playful words assuage my worries, and I draw in a breath. I can do this. I can absolutely do this. I grip him harder and follow his direction, stroking faster and rougher. He grits out my name in a twisted curse, and I feel a fresh wave of heat in my body.

  “Butterfly?” he whispers.

  “Yes?”

  “Slide your hand between your legs, and bring some of that wetness to my cock.”

  Duh. Of course, he needs lube. Fortunately, I’ve got a more than ample supply thanks to the double dose of pleasure he gave me. I do as he asked then return my wet hand to his cock.