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He crinkles an eyebrow at me. “Is this your first time?”
“Yes.” I should keep lying. But I worry if I make myself out to be some experienced floozy like Lola, the man might go at me harder than I can handle.
Not that I can handle this to begin with.
Perhaps I’m dreaming.
A look of possession changes the shape of the man’s face. It’s different from how Callum looks at me, wanting my virginity. God, I’d love to tell that dosser I was no longer pure. That he wasn’t the one to have been my first. Surely, that’s the reason he keeps trying. He just wants the extra notch on his bedpost.
What if I gave it to this stranger? Then Callum would leave me alone.
This man’s lethal stare suggests he wants to claim me.
I don’t hate it.
“I’m waiting, honey. If you’re not ready, I’ll get dressed and put you in a taxi. Is that what you want?” He leans forward, and the way the light hits his face, my heart beats faster.
He’s so stunningly gorgeous that I begin crawling on the bed toward him. “No. I don’t want to be in a taxi right now.”
“A virgin, huh?” He gives me a once-over. “Have you at least taken a man’s cock into your mouth?”
“No.” I lick my lips, though, suddenly wanting to try it.
He strokes himself up and down in his lap. It’s beautiful. The skin is smooth, and the perfect mushroom-shaped tip looks pillowy soft. It’s the vein along the base that gets me. The source of its power.
“Has a man licked your cunt?” he asked darkly.
“No.”
He swears under his breath. “I might have to change my flight tomorrow if you’re wanting to experience everything for the first time.”
“I do,” I say and gasp.
“Let’s start slow. Sit.” He pats his upper thighs.
I realize he’s inviting me to sit right on his cock. I’m wearing a lace thong. Still, I boldly straddle him and gently sit on the stranger’s lap. His cock bends forward, and he groans when I make contact.
“Aye, you’re soaked and hot.”
Laying my arms across his sculpted shoulders, I take in his warrior tattoo that starts at the tip of his deltoid and spreads down one pec. Feeling on edge, I mutter, “I can say the same for you. The warm part.”
His skin feels like satin. His flaxen coils of chest hair are darker than that thick, rumpled mop of spun gold on his head. He looked hairless from a distance earlier because all I saw were planes of abs. He strokes my arms and then turns my wrist, eyeing my birthday tattoo of a black cat sitting in the curve of a crescent moon under a few dark stars. “This is a…cute tat.”
I pull my wrist back. “I wasn’t going for cute. I had no idea what I wanted and told the artist my cat just died. When I started crying, he poured me a pint of Guinness. I regained consciousness, and this is what I found etched in my skin.”
“I like it. Never seen it before.” He tugs the hem of my T-shit. “Now, can I take this off? See more of you?”
Biting my lip, I nod, and off it goes. Now I’m naked except for my lacy thong.
“Christ,” he mutters, his hands sliding up my ribs. “You’re perfect.”
His eyes rake over my body, and it’s the most exhilarating thing I’ve ever felt. My nipples grow painfully hard. Just when I think I can’t take it, his meaty hands close around them.
Something between my thighs thumps when his wet mouth lands on my skin, sucking my nipples. I moan and unconsciously begin rocking my hips.
“That’s dangerous,” he groans against my sensitive nub.
No kidding. I’m half-naked with a strange man in a strange bed. At Carney’s Inn!
