She helps me along, kicking them off, and my God, she’s an angel of sex.
With strong arms, a flat stomach, and toned legs, she’s every bit the athletic type I can’t get enough of. A woman who knows how to use her body hits all my buttons. I want to explore every inch of her curves and muscles. “Your body needs worshipping. With my tongue,” I say, then I pick her up, carry her to the bed, and set her down.
She points at me, making a circle with her finger. “Can you make those jeans disappear?”
I wiggle my brow. “What do you know? That’s one of my many tricks.”
A few seconds later, my jeans pool on the floor, my boxer briefs joining them as my cock reports for duty.
Her mouth falls open, like my dick transfixes her.
I’m well aware that men are obsessed with what hangs between their legs. That we think we can command cars, rockets, and the world’s nuclear arsenals with our cocks.
But there is nothing sexier than when the woman you want stares at your hard cock, knowing she made it that way, that this hard-on is a compliment to her.
Reese gazes at my dick like she appreciates the salute my erection is giving her for turning me all the fuck on.
Well, I sure as shit appreciate revving her engine. We both do that to each other, judging by the flush on her chest, the heat in her eyes.
And, as she shimmies down her panties, by the glistening wetness between her legs.
Yes. That’s where I want to be.
I climb over her, bury my face between her breasts, and kiss these beauties as I plan to make my way down her body so that I can devour all that arousal.
This is no hookup.
This is the start of something I know I’m going to want again and again.
5
Reese
I’ll tell him I’m a virgin.
Soon.
In the next few minutes, I swear.
But right now, it’s too hard to talk because he’s on me and I’m in the moment. Speech is hard. Thoughts start to crumble in my brain, falling to dust.
Right now, I just want to indulge in the masterful way he touches me.
I don’t know where to feel.
Or think.
Or focus.
Because everything is just so earth-shatteringly good.
Is this how sex is supposed to feel? Is this why everyone craves it so much? I haven’t even had it yet, haven’t even had his mouth on me where I want it, but already my body is a neon sign, beckoning him to come inside.
As the moonlight streaks through the window, Holden’s hands skim along my waist, curving over my hips. Kissing me as he goes, the man gives me a double dose of pleasure from the sensory overload of his hands and lips.
His fingers graze along my skin, setting off wave after wave of goose bumps in their wake. I’m on fire, all the cells in my body fanning themselves from the heat, melting like a woman in a sauna.
As he goes, he marks me with lips and tongue and sound too.
The noises he makes are so masculine, so hungry. They’re the most erotic music I’ve ever heard—soft moans and dirty rumbles as he kisses my stomach, as he flicks his tongue over my belly button.
His voice grows deeper, more gravelly, as he whispers dirty words against my skin. “You taste so good,” he murmurs, then dips lower.
He hisses out a filthy rasp, “Fuck, Reese.”
I shudder, shaking everywhere with rampant desire, trembling from the intensity of his touch, from the vibrations inside me.
But unsure what he means.
“What? What is it?” I ask, equal parts nervous and wildly turned on. “Is everything okay?”
He lifts his face, his eyes darkened with arousal. “So fucking okay. So much more than okay,” he says, then returns to his ministrations.
Licking and kissing my hips, teasing along the V of my legs, traveling closer, tantalizingly closer to my center. Making me moan and arch with his every move.
If scientists tested my blood right now, they’d find off the chart arousal. They’d say they’d never seen levels so high. They’ll need a new scale to measure the lust coursing through me.
This is everything I imagined. This is more than I imagined.
His hands curl possessively around my hips, gripping me. He runs his nose along my mound, then breathes out. “God, you taste so good. And you smell so fucking incredible,” he says, then kisses me.
Right there.
Where I want him.
Groaning savagely as he licks my wetness, Holden flicks his tongue up and down my center, then sucks on the hard nub of my clit, driving me wild.
Gah.
My brain is fried. My thoughts are toast.
I just can’t.
I can’t do anything but give in, let go, and move my body in tandem with his mouth, his noises, his hands.
My legs fall open, and my hands fly to my head, like that’s how I’m going to hold on to earth as he sends me soaring into the stratosphere.
I arch. I writhe.
Panting loudly, I cry out as I rock my hips against his face, shoving my hands deeper into my hair, holding on for dear life.
I can barely withstand the onslaught of pleasure.
“I’ve never . . .” I moan, but it’s barely audible.
I can’t form words.
I can’t—physically can’t—tell him I’ve never come with another person before.
Assembling syllables in an order that makes sense is impossible given the way he’s undoing me, how he’s taking me apart, lick by lick, kiss by kiss, flick by flick.
I had no idea this was possible.
This man devours me, kissing me like I’m the reason he woke up today.
Like I’m the reward at the end of every day.
My hands, my fingers, the things I do to myself at night are nothing compared to what he’s doing to me now.
The softness of his tongue, the caress of his lips, and the moans that fall from his mouth. The murmurs, the my Gods, and the deep, filthy masculine rumbles.
I’m his breakfast, his lunch, his dinner, and his dessert.
Hell, I’m his late-night snack right now, and he’s ravenous. I gaze down at the fantastic image between my legs, the sight in front of me.
His broad shoulders, his strong arms, that thick mess of hair.
This gorgeous man between my legs, kissing my pussy, worshipping my body, as he wraps those major league arms around my thighs, tugging me closer to his mouth, impossibly closer.
Bliss spins in me, adrenaline tripping through my veins.
My hands slide down my body, roaming over my breasts, my belly, then finding his hair once again. I thread my fingers through those locks, curling my hands over his head. “Is this okay?” I whisper.
He moans against me, lifting his face for a second, murmuring, “Yeah, do that. Grab me. Tug me against you. Fucking use me.”
Pleasure bursts inside me, a promise of what’s to come, a hint of what’s just over the horizon as he continues his relentless quest for my orgasm.
I can feel it, just out of reach, hovering on the other side. I want it desperately. I want everything with him.
He moans against my wetness, and I cry out as he takes me higher, pushes further, gives more.
His mouth is a one-man band, his tongue an instrument of pleasure, his lips making music as he plays me. Ecstasy throbs inside of me with every sweep of his tongue, every kiss of his lips, and every grip of his fingers into my hips.
“Oh God, I’m close, so close.”
And then I’m there.
I’m breaking apart, falling into pieces, coming undone in a constellation of pleasure, like starlight, like a supernova.
My cries are endless.
My orgasm ravages me.
My body quakes.
Aftershocks radiate inside me, pulses of lingering bliss, the remnants of the most fantastic climax in the universe.
Like the fading notes of a song, they spread to the ti
ps of my fingers, to the ends of my hair.
Holden moves over me, bracing himself on strong arms, that tattoo on display. The stylized tree design is so artfully drawn, and I’m dying to know what it means to him.
But there are other topics to tackle first.
Especially since this night isn’t ending. It’s only beginning, and I want the rest of it. All of it.
He stares down at me with need flickering in his irises. He’s such a sight. His green eyes blaze with desire. His lips are hungry.
And the best part? The sexiest part is this—his hard cock pushing against my thigh.
A visceral reminder that I want him inside me.
That I need to tell him that he’ll be my first.
I lift my arms, my hands holding his face, where his jaw is still wet.
With me.
A tremble rushes through me. “Holden,” I begin, sounding all breathy and blissed out.
He shakes his head—in amazement, I think. “Reese, you’re incredible. Absolutely incredible. You’re so responsive.”
“Because of how you touch me. I think you’ve reduced me to a very primal level. I could barely speak.”
“Good. Speaking is overrated when there’s touch,” he says ironically, because the man loves to talk even as he touches me.
He dips his mouth to my face, whispering a kiss to my lips. Then a soft, satisfied “Hi” against my cheek.
But now isn’t the time to linger in the aftereffects. Drawing a breath, I push gently on his shoulders so he meets my gaze.
“I need to tell you something,” I say, my lips a straight line.
“Of course,” he says, going serious, intense.
I picture myself in a volleyball game, prepping to serve.
No room for fear.
Just say it.
“That was the first time I’ve had an orgasm through oral.” That seems like a good way to start.
His grin is cocky, delighted. It’s a great look on his handsome face.
He’s damn pleased, but he’s pleased for me. Not because he’s going to thump his chest in victory. He’s happy to have done this for me.
“I want to give you every type of orgasm,” he says.
I shiver at the way he talks to me, filthy and full of adoration at the same time.
“I want all of them,” I continue. “And I want all of you.”
I slide my hand down his chest, over the hard planes of his abs, one straight shot for his cock, as if to make my point clear.
I grip his length, stroking it, thrilling at the feel of his dick twitching in my hand.
Wow. Just wow.
This is all-new too. And it’s hot as hell.
He gives a small sigh that’s chased by a carnal groan as I grip him harder.
I don’t want to stop touching him now that I’ve started. One second, and I’m addicted.
I squeeze the base, then slide my hand back up, savoring the velvet smoothness.
I’m no maestro of dick, no conductor of cock. But the feel of him, hard and thick, is extraordinary.
“I want you so much, beautiful.”
I smile, my heart tripping with a giddy kind of happiness as he gives me a term of endearment.
That’s why he’s the one I want to lose it to. But I need to finish the confession.
Will he turn away? Will he say no? Will I scare him?
“Holden, I’m—”
AC/DC blares.
I furrow my brow, drop his dick, and push up on my elbows as the opening notes of “Highway to Hell” blast from his phone.
He groans, a long, annoyed sigh of frustration.
“That’s the head of travel,” he says.
It takes me a few seconds to register his meaning as he rolls off me and grabs his phone from the nightstand.
“Hey, MJ. What’s up?”
There’s a pause, and his eyes close, his jaw ticks. “For real?”
Another pause.
I can’t make out what MJ is saying, but Holden gives a resigned sigh as he opens his eyes. “Yeah. I’ll be there in about an hour.”
My throat tightens, and so do my shoulders. All the yummy sensations inside me disappear, just like that.
With his phone still in his hand, he sinks deeper into the pillow, drags his other hand through his hair, then turns to face me. “Weather people predict a thunderstorm coming in the middle of the night in Texas. I was supposed to be on the morning flight, but apparently, that flight is canceled, so the head of travel just put me on a plane that leaves in an hour and twenty minutes.” He winces like he’s in pain. “I’m so sorry.”
Disappointment just might overwhelm me, but I take the news like a big girl. “I’m sorry that you have to go.” On so many levels. Sorry doesn’t begin to cover it.
He heaves another sigh, the most frustrated one yet.
Rolling out of bed, he reaches for his clothes on the floor, pulling on his boxer briefs. All my plans for the night speed away, tearing out the door without even a second glance.
This tryst is over. My heart feels like a bag of sand.
But there are practical matters to attend to. I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, head straight for my bureau, and pull on a pair of fresh underwear then a T-shirt and my jeans.
By the time I’m done, Holden is fully dressed too. He turns to me with intense contrition on his face and sets his hands on my shoulders. “I want to see you again. I need to see you again. Will you give me your number?”
“Of course.”
He types my number into his phone then sends me a text so I’ll have his. I don’t look at it yet though.
“Holden,” I say, lifting my chin, tearing off the Band-Aid. “The thing I started to tell you?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m a virgin.”
6
Holden
That was not what I thought she’d say.
It takes me a few seconds to process that information, to reroute my thoughts. But in that time, everything clicks into place.
The I’ve never.
The flashes of innocence and the flickers of shyness, chased by longing, followed by lust.
The way she responded like everything was new to her.
What a gift. What an absolute gift.
I’d be lying if I said her virginity doesn’t turn me on.
Oh hell, does it ever.
And I need to tell her that, but not so she thinks I have a virgin fetish. Because that’s weird.
I step closer and place a kiss on her soft lips. Then I pull back, holding her gaze, my voice intensely serious. “That is a complete gift, and I want to be your first. I’d be honored, Reese.”
A smile comes my way, then a sigh that stretches across the state, one of pure relief.
“You do?”
There she is. All innocence again.
I clasp her shoulders. “I absolutely do. I told you I don’t do hookups. You don’t feel like one. We don’t feel like one. Sex isn’t a game to me. I’m so drawn to you—all of you—and I want to explore everything with you.”
She grins with excitement, with possibility. “You’re turning me on even more now.”
“Goes both ways, beautiful,” I say. “And we’re going to see each other again. I don’t know when, because I’m heading to Texas, then Florida, then Georgia. But we’ll make a plan, okay?”
She nibbles on the corner of her lip. “It’s a deal.”
“Hold me to it.”
“I will. I definitely will. I absolutely will,” she says, imitating me again from my email. “See, I can’t stop talking in threes now.”
I cup her chin, dragging a finger across it. “Sassy, and I like it.”
She stands on tiptoe, drops a kiss onto my lips, then gestures to the door. “Be on your way.”
I leave, emotions warring in me. On the one hand, I feel like I struck gold with her. On the other hand, I feel like I’m a kid and I just lost my favorite book, the dog-eared dragon adventure
tale I carried with me everywhere as a grade-schooler.
I stop at the hotel to grab my bag. At the airport, I check the text I sent Reese when I was at her place—the one that said I can’t wait to see you again—and smile at her reply.
* * *
Reese: I’m already replaying today. And tonight too.
* * *
Holden: Same here. Let’s make more replays very soon.
* * *
After settling into my seat, I grab a book of puzzles from my backpack, crack open the word scramble, and get to work on six-letter words, breaking them down into a range of solutions.
Word games are good for the brain, and baseball is as much a mental exercise as a physical one.
But as I work through combos, my thoughts keep returning to Reese.
To the delicious, alluring word she shared with me.
Virgin.
I run through a scramble of it in my head, but I keep returning to that word.
Twenty-two and still a virgin. And she wanted me. She still wants me.
I want her too, with an insistent ferocity, one I didn’t expect when I started the day. It digs into my heart and sets up camp in my brain.
In Texas, we play a killer series against the Scoundrels, and I have a handful of killer nights as Reese and I exchange texts at all hours.
Texts that turn me on.
That make me smile.
That make me hope.
Then comes the night when she sends a note that knocks the breath straight out of me, but in the worst way.
* * *
Reese: Hi. I wish I weren’t saying this, but I’m also excited to tell you something amazing. Which means this note contains both good news and bad news. I got a job offer with a great international organization that’s focused on teaching all sorts of skills to girls, both in the US and abroad, as part of its focus on gender equality. It wasn’t even on my radar, but this organization heard the interview I did with you and listened to some of my others. They offered me an internship to teach media skills, like podcasting and sound editing, to teenage girls in South America, since I speak Spanish. This is everything I’ve wanted to do, and I’m going to be traveling to various countries there. I’m leaving in a week. I’ll miss picking up where we left off, and I’ll definitely miss our second date and the chance to get to know you more.
The Virgin Game Plan Page 6
