Then he cupped her and felt a thrill at the way her hips rose to meet his touch. “Show me what you like.”
She wasn’t shy, but reached down to touch herself, and he felt a sense of pride that she could claim her sexuality without awkwardness.
He watched, the sight of her pleasuring herself making him burn. Then he nudged her hand aside and took over, stroking her clit with his fingers. “Like this?”
“Mmm, yes!” She bent one knee and let it fall open to make room for him.
“That’s right, love. Open up for me.”
Once he was sure he had the hang of things, he built on the motion, exploring her, going for variations on a theme—a little more pressure here, a teasing caress there, a finger circling the entrance to her vagina.
God, she was wet.
Damn.
Oh, he wanted to slide a finger inside her, but he couldn’t—not yet.
He lowered his mouth to one breast and feasted on her, his hand still busy between her thighs, need for her thrumming in his chest.
She whimpered, moaned his name, her thighs spreading wider, the fingers of one hand clenching in his hair, the nails of the other biting into her own thigh. “Mitch.”
It turned him on to see her so turned on—and to knowhewas responsible.
But he’d gotten a taste of her, and he was hungry for more.
He raised himself, sat back on his heels, and caught her legs behind her knees, pushing them back until they almost touched her shoulders. Then he slowly and deliberately lowered his gaze to her most private flesh. “Oh, Megs.”
The sight of her sent blood rushing to his already rock-hard cock, made his balls draw tight and his brain go blank. He tried to remember what he’d told her he would do to her. Then he knelt between her thighs, lowered his mouth to her, and licked, groaning as her taste danced over his tongue.
“Mitch.” She moaned his name, her fingers sliding into his hair.
He stroked her where she was most sensitive, his tongue playing with her clit until her every exhale was a ragged moan, her fingers pulling at his hair. Then he did what he’d said he’d do—and sucked her clit into his mouth.
“Oh,God!”
He stroked her with his lips and tongue, suckled her, her hips lifting to meet his caresses, forcing him to hold her in place.
That’s when he noticed the time.
Oh, thank God.
One minute to midnight.
He stopped, reached for a condom, smiling at her protests.
“You can’t stop now!”
“Who’s stopping? We’re counting down the last minute to the end of your virginity.” He held out the condom. “Want to help?”
She sat up, her hair a glorious tangle. “Hell, yes!”
He showed her how to do it, let her roll the condom down his length. Then he stretched out on his back and reached for her, helping her to straddle him. “You’re going to control the pace. You decide how much of me to take inside you and how fast. Do what feels good.”
“Will it hurt?” Her gaze met his, a mix of desire and nervousness in her eyes, her hands splayed on his chest for balance.
“It might. You can always stop.” He glanced at his watch, followed the second hand. “Five… four… three… two… one. Happy Birthday, love.”
He held his cock in place for her, one hand on her hip, as she settled herself above him. He hoped she was aroused enough that this would be easy.
