I've never been kissed like this, like I'm air and he's drowning. My inexperience must be obvious, but he doesn't seem to care, guiding me until I'm kissing him back with equal fervor.
His free hand finds my waist, sliding up under the t-shirt to splay across my bare skin. I gasp into his mouth at the contact, my body arching into his touch. He groans again when he realizes I'm not wearing anything beneath the shirt, his fingers tracing the curve of my rib cage.
"Last chance to tell me to stop," he murmurs against my lips.
In answer, I reach for the hem of the t-shirt and pull it over my head, standing before him completely naked. I should feel self-conscious. No man has ever seen me like this, but the desire in his eyes as he takes in my body makes me feel powerful instead.
"Jesus Christ," he breathes, his gaze traveling from my face to my breasts, to the curve of my hips and the junction of my thighs. "You're fucking perfect."
Before I can respond, he's kissing me again, harder this time, his hands everywhere. Cupping my breasts, thumbs brushing over my nipples, sliding down to grasp my ass and pull me against his hard cock. I can feel his erection through his jeans, pressing insistently against my stomach, and the reality of what we're about to do hits me with dizzying clarity.
I'm going to lose my virginity to a member of a motorcycle club. A man who came to collect a debt from my brother. A man who carries a gun and has hurt people badly by his own admission. A man who saved my life.
But as Steel lifts me with ease and carries me to the bed, laying me down with surprising gentleness, all my doubts evaporate. This feels right in a way nothing else in my life has for a very long time.
He stands at the edge of the bed, looking down at me with an expression that's equal parts desire and disbelief. Then he pulls his t-shirt over his head, revealing a torso sculpted with lean muscle and decorated with tattoos—a rider on his chest, various mechanical symbols and designs flowing down his arms.
"You're sure about this?" he asks one more time, his hands on the button of his jeans.
"I'm sure," I whisper, unable to take my eyes off him. "I want you, Jacob. All of you."
The sound of his real name seems to snap the last thread of his restraint. He sheds his jeans and boxers, and I get my first look at a fully aroused man. His cock is long and thick, jutting proudly from a nest of dark hair, the tip already glistening with moisture.
He must see the flash of nervousness in my eyes because he slows down, crawling onto the bed beside me rather than covering me with his body.
"We'll take it slow," he promises, his hand coming to rest on my stomach. "And we'll stop if it's too much. Just say the word."
I nod, not trusting my voice. His hand begins to move, tracing lazy patterns across my skin, gradually moving higher until he's cupping my breast. I arch into his touch, a soft moan escaping me as he rolls my nipple between his fingers.
"You like that?" he asks, his voice husky with desire.
"Yes," I gasp as he lowers his head and takes my other nipple into his mouth, sucking gently at first, then harder as I writhe beneath him.
His hand travels lower, skimming over my ribs, my stomach, until it rests at the top of my thigh. I spread my legs wider, inviting his touch where I need it most.
"Eager, aren't you?" he murmurs against my breast, a smile in his voice. "But we're going to take our time. I want you dripping wet before I touch your pussy."
The filthy word from his mouth sends a fresh wave of arousal through me. I'm already wet, have been since the fire escape, since the shower, since he walked into my room. But I understand what he's doing. He’s making sure I'm really ready, physically and mentally, for what comes next.
His mouth moves from my breast up to my neck, finding a spot just below my ear that makes me gasp. Meanwhile, his hand continues its maddening journey, inching closer to where I'm aching for him but never quite reaching it.
"Please," I whimper, not even sure what I'm begging for.
"Please what, Holly?" he asks, nipping at my earlobe. "Tell me what you want. Be specific."
I flush with embarrassment. I've never said these words out loud before, never had to ask for sexual pleasure.
"I want... I want you to touch me. Between my legs."
"You can do better than that. Tell me exactly what you want me to do to your pussy."
Oh God. The combination of his crude language and the teasing touches is driving me insane. "I want you to... to put your fingers inside me. And touch my clit. Please."
"Good girl," he praises, and finally, finally his hand moves between my thighs, parting my folds with gentle fingers. "Fuck, you're soaked."
His middle finger slides easily through my wetness, circling my entrance but not pushing inside yet. His thumb finds my clit, applying just enough pressure to make me buck against his hand.
"So responsive," he murmurs approvingly. "Has anyone ever touched you like this before?"
