He drags my wetness upward, spreading it across my clit in tight circles. “It’s taking everything I have not to tear off your jeans, and bury myself inside you.”
Liquid fire surges through me. “Oh.”
“Yeah. ‘Oh.’” He dips his rough fingertips inside me. “I want—Ineed—to be a good guy and respect your boundaries, JJ. So please just lie still and let me make you come like the decent man I pretend to be.”
The desperation in his voice practically pins me to the grass. I lie still as he curls his fingers inside me, sliding in and out with soft, swishing noises. It feels so good I could scream. Being with a man is strange. Almost disgusting in some ways, but overwhelmingly perfect in others. A cool breeze ruffles my hair and all at once I’m terrified someone might see me riding Bobby’s hand on a baseball diamond. Yet, the thought of him stopping hurts. If someone wandered in, there’s every chance I’d grab Bobby’s wrist and beg him to let me finish. I might still be a virgin on paper, but my innocence has burned up in the heat of the four men pursuing me.
“God, you’re tight,” Bobby mutters. “I can hardly pull my fingers out of you, you’re so tight.”
I whimper as my body hurtles toward orgasm. When I do this to myself, it takes so long that my hand hurts. But with Bobby, I’m already there. There’s so much power in sex. In being taught what someone else can do to your body. Maybe that’s why men like Mr. Parker want virgins, so they have nothing to compare them to.
I stare at Bobby, at his boyish face and wide muscular shoulders, and something sparks in me. A naughty instinct I don’t want to fight. “Did you ever get turned on when you tutored me?”
A frustrated huff of laughter. “Did I? It almost fuckingkilled me.”
“Did you hate me?”
“Never.” He pumps faster, fingers pulsing deep within me. “I knew you weren’t cockteasing. You just have no idea how gorgeous you were, did you?”
My climax swells, gold tendrils curling around me like vines. “I… I don’t know.”
“You are. You’re fucking sexy. I used to imagine you sitting in my lap while I taught you fractions.” His teeth scrape my neck and the sensation shimmers down my body. “I wanted to slide my hand under your little school skirt and stroke your pussy. Keep my other hand over your mouth so the librarians wouldn’t hear it when you came. I wasinfatuatedwith you.”
I squirm against the grass, delighted and seconds from orgasm. “I thought it was just me. I thought you were too grown up for me.”
“And I thought you were the most delicious thing in the whole world.” Bobby slides his free hand over my mouth now, as though we’re back there, in the library. “It killed me that you were engaged to another man, let alone someone so fucking vile. It killed me, January. I just wanted to wrap you up and take you somewhere safe. But you’re mine now.”
His fingers plunge, curving into some rough place inside me that I didn’t know existed. “Oh my God!”
Bobby’s mouth latches onto mine, absorbing my cries. The pressure between my legs rolls, contracting at my clit like a point of light.
“Focus,” he says as though this is a trigonometry equation. “Think about how deep I am in your virgin pussy.”
I contract. He is deep. Deeper than any man has been inside me so far. And his fingers feel good.Toogood. My thighs twitch, clamping and unclamping. I’m enclosed in my jeans, and I still have shoes on, but I’m so, so exposed. I look into Bobby’s brown eyes and something in his strained, brutal expression sends me to the edge. My toes curl, my eyes screw shut, and my mind is blank except for one thought—my math tutor is inside me.
And then.
A murderer is making me come again.
And because I’m all wrong inside, that’s the thought that sends me over. I come hard, bucking so forcefully against Bobby that the waistband of my jeans cuts into my spine.
“Fuck,” Bobby pants, his hand sliding from my mouth. “Fucking hell.”
“I know, I know…”
“You don’t know.” He withdraws from my body and pulls his hand from my jeans. “It’s been ages. Fuckingmonthsof torture. I used to have to sit there, smelling your perfume, watching you chew your lip while we talked about math. I got hard under that table ten times an hour. Afterward I used to…” His face goes tomato red and I know exactly what he means. “…just so I could fuckingthink.”
It shouldn’t be sexy, picturing Bobby in the stalls at Trinity Grammar, stroking himself. But it is. I imagine him pressed against the door, his thick cock in his hand, rubbing and pulling until he…
“Show me? Bobby, please show me?”
“Show you what?”
“What you did after our tutoring sessions. I want to see.”
Swearing, Bobby sits back on his knees and unbuckles his belt. He flicks open his jeans, pulling his flushed erection into his hand.
I stare greedily at his cock. The thick shaft, the round purplish head, the patch of neat dark hair at the base.
