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I finally did it.
I lost my virginity.
Very, very thoroughly.
To a guy whose name I don’t actually know.
I glance over at him, still sleeping next to me, his burly arm looped around my waist.
Ace.
I watch him for a few minutes as he sleeps. He really is a beautiful man. He’s even more gorgeous in his sleep. Those sexy, masculine features are softer, somehow less severe. His dark eyelashes cast small shadows against his handsome face, and I can see the stubble of his beard.
The stubble that scratched against my tender thighs as he was making me come with his mouth.
I lost count of how many orgasms he gave me. Once we started, we couldn’t seem to get enough. I can admit I went a little crazy.
We had sex in positions I’ve never even heard of.
Now, I move a little, gauging the state of my body and, yes: I am very, very sore. But the ache feels…good. It reminds me of the wild pleasure. More pleasure than I knew was even possible.
And I can confirm that my first time—and second and also third—was better than I could’ve imagined.
I’m glad I waited for him. “Ace” will always own a small piece of my heart.
Or maybe a big one.
Don’t even go there, Texas.
We agreed. One night. No names. Now he can get back to his…life— hopefully not wife, but he told me there wasn’t one and I believed him.
And that’s as much as I can give him. Men don’t stick around, I learned that a long time ago. My heart was broken by my father at the age of four years old and I never quite recovered. It was a heartbreak that was reinforced every day by my struggling mother. Hard work and independence is in my blood. I don’t have it in me to get side-tracked by one beautiful—okay, the best of my life—night with my dirty-talking Mr. Swagger.
It’s time for me to go.
Very carefully, I move his arm and wriggle out from under him. He stirs but doesn’t wake. He’s tired, not surprisingly. We probably didn’t get more than two hours of sleep. We made love and we talked. We laughed. Those quiet murmurs while we were still connected at three a.m. might possibly be some of the best memories of my entire life. Which is sort of sad, but it is what it is.
Silently, I find my clothes and my bag. Checking my phone, it’s 6:12. My flight leaves at 9:15.
Glancing again at his big body, those broad, tanned shoulders, the sheet low over his perfect washboard abs, I wonder what he would do if I slipped back into bed and woke him up…by taking his big, hard cock into my mouth…drinking those throbbing, gushing bursts.
I didn’t quite get around to trying that. And it would have taken our level of intimacy one giant step forward.
I wish I’d done it.
Stop.
At least we used protection. I give myself points for being responsible, even if I did get down and dirty with a complete stranger…three or four times. Not including the things he did to me with his mouth.
How am I even able to walk right now?
God, he felt so freaking good.
What has this man done to me? I’ve lost my virginity to a guy who has very possibly ruined me for all men. I mean, how can anything compare to Ace?
My face warms at the porn flick of fresh memories.
I let a stranger tongue-fuck me in the penthouse suite of a luxury hotel in Hawaii, then fuck me—several times over—as I screamed his name. Basically within one hour of meeting the guy.
