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An unexpected second wave crashes over me, and I cry out. My vision blurs.
He slows his pace, pressing a final tender kiss to my center before he moves up.
“Oh . . . my . . . God,” I pant, words becoming a hum of happiness as Graham rises over me and finds my lips with his, kissing me hard and deep. I taste myself on his tongue, but unexpectedly, I don’t mind it. In fact, I almost like it. He tastes like he belongs to me, like mine.
Mine. Damn, but I like the sound of that way more than I should.
“That was amazing,” I whisper, my voice dreamy. “Both.”
“You’re amazing. Multiplied,” he says with a wink, then rolls onto his back in one swift motion. He pulls me on top of him, his hands cupping my ass as my thighs part and the thick ridge of his cock presses between my legs. Even through his pants, the sensation is enough to make me moan, low and hungry, in my throat.
I want that. I want him. I’m ready for every inch, no matter how much it might hurt, because being without him inside me hurts so much more.
“I’m ready,” I say, as his hands travel over my ribcage and mold to my breasts. He guides one to his mouth, circling his tongue on my nipple until it draws even tighter, harder.
“Butterfly,” he says, full of concern, “it’s too soon. I don’t want to rush you.”
I shake my head hard, nearly coming out of my skin as he sucks my nipple into his mouth. “But that makes me want it even more.”
He chuckles against my skin. “I love that you want it. And you have to know how badly I do too. But I’d be a terrible teacher if I let the second lesson get too far out of control.”
He lets go of my breasts and shoots me a sexy smile. This man. He knows how to make a woman want him, crave him, need him.
But it’s more than all that. After only two lessons, I’m dying for him.
“I can’t believe you have me this worked up already,” I say softly.
“You worked up is my favorite dirty dream.”
I nibble on the corner of my lips, thinking of my dirty dreams, and how he’s starred in so many of them. How he’s guiding me through the reality of them now. And once more I step into the sensuality that he’s helping me see I possess.
“I have dirty dreams about you,” I whisper.
He swallows. “You do?” The words come out like gravel.
I’ve surprised him again. Caught him off guard. And I like it.
Based on the pulsing shaft pressing into me, he likes it too.
I nod. “I dream about stripping your clothes off.” I’m not going to bother with finesse. But I like speaking my dirty mind with him. A dirty mind I always knew I had but was never able to put to good use until him.
He spreads his arms out wide on the bed, an invitation. “Then explore me, CJ. Take my clothes off like it’s your dirty dream.”
“Is this lesson three?”
A grin tells me he likes my impromptu plan. “Yes, it’s lesson three. You’re such a fast learner you deserve another session tonight.”
He parks his hands behind his head.
Part of me can’t believe this confident, cocky man wants a virgin to take his clothes off. But the look in his eyes says that’s precisely what he wants.
Me.
I’ve turned him on.
I’ve aroused him.
I’m going to undress him.
Sparks race over my skin, and it’s hard to imagine I can want him this much after coming twice.
But I’m learning all sorts of things are possible now that I’m visiting a country I’ve never traveled to before. One I very much want to spend a lot more time exploring.
I scoot back and tug his white dress shirt from his pants.
Graham has always looked good enough to eat, even clothed. I’ve feasted my eyes on him hundreds of times, but as my fingers open the small buttons of his crisp white shirt and spread it open, baring his chest, he literally takes my breath away.
He’s the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.
He has abs for days, and I trace the grooves of them with my fingertips. He shudders as I explore his flat belly, then again as I travel higher, my eager hands spreading over his firm, strong pecs. I sigh happily, certain now that I’m going to want to visit Graham Country many more times.
I let my fingers skim the line of hair from his navel to the smattering of darker, curlier hair across his chest, and murmur, “You’re lovely.”
“Like a butterfly?” he teases even as an almost pained expression crosses his face.
“Yes,” I agree, laughing lightly. “Like a butterfly. A very manly butterfly.”
I lean down to kiss him and end up nibbling on the skin of his abdomen the way he did mine. When I reach the close of his pants, I don’t hesitate to pop open the top button, unzip his zipper, and pull them down over his hips. The movement draws his boxer briefs down too, but I don’t stop. I don’t hesitate. I keep drawing the fabric lower until his erection springs free and the tips of my fingers go numb.
