He couldn’t believe Sir Dick had never tried to make a move on her. What the hell was wrong with the man? If Danny had been engaged to a girl like this from childhood, he’d have spent most of his teenage years trying to get her into bed. “I do want you, and I’m going to have you, Hermione, as many times as I can manage it, until we’re both sweaty and exhausted from our orgasms, until you finally push me away and beg me to stop.”
She shivered again. “Never.” Her dark brown eyes looked into his, and even though he knew she was a virgin and she was inexperienced in this, the dark desire in them sent his temperature soaring.
But he resolved to take it slow. He kissed her languidly, his lips moving across hers, gently exploring from one corner to the other. When he touched his tongue to her bottom lip, she opened her mouth, and he slid his tongue inside against hers, reveling in the slick sensuality of it. She lifted a hand to slip into his hair, arching against him, and he tightened his arms around her, enjoying the feeling of being close to her, being intimate.
Was there anything as heavenly as being naked in bed with a girl? She felt slender and fine-boned, delicate in his arms. He’d always loved how soft women’s bodies were, and Hermione’s was no exception. From the breasts pressing against his chest to the thigh hooked over his, she was silky smooth, as if he was hugging a satin cushion.
He kissed her for a long time, twirling her hair around his fingers while he did so, lifting his head occasionally to admire the silky locks before returning to press his lips to hers and to slide his tongue into her mouth.
It took a while for some of the tenseness to disappear from her shoulders, but eventually she grew bolder, arching more into him, exploring the muscles of his chest and arms with her hands, clutching his hair and pulling his mouth down for another kiss.
He began to move his hands over her body, stroking down her back and arms, over her hips and down her thighs, until she sighed against his mouth, and he could tell from the way she pushed her breasts toward him that she wanted him to touch them, even if she wasn’t aware of it herself.
Still lying with his head propped on a hand, he lifted his head to look at her and cupped a breast with one hand. They both watched as he brushed his thumb across the nipple. It puckered to a peak, and she closed her eyes when he took it between his thumb and forefinger and tugged it gently.
“Ohhh...” The sigh escaped from her lips.
Growing harder with every second, he moved his hand to her other nipple and did the same, teasing it to a tight peak before returning to the first. Her lips parted, her eyelids fluttering, and Danny pushed himself up onto an elbow. It was no good—he was going to have to step things up.
Pressing her back onto the pillows, he covered her mouth with his own, claiming the kiss this time rather than requesting it, and Hermione groaned, apparently far from scared by his rising desire.
He tore his lips from hers, kissed down her neck and, while cupping her breast with one hand, covered the nipple with his mouth. She inhaled sharply, and when he stroked it with his tongue and then sucked the sensitive skin, she sank a hand into his hair and clenched her fingers in it.
He continued until her breaths were coming in gasps and she was writhing beneath him, and only then lifted his head to look at her as he slid a hand down to her thighs.
“I’d like to touch you,” he murmured, stroking his fingers up the soft skin to her hipbone and across her stomach, which quivered. “Will you let me touch you, Hermione?” He kissed her lips, knowing they must be as sensitive as his, and that any kisses now would make desire spike within her as if her nerve endings were on fire. “Will you let me be the first to slide my fingers into you?”
He kissed her again, then lifted to look into her eyes. Keeping his gaze on hers as she parted her legs, he stroked up her thigh, and ran his fingers lightly between her legs.
She shivered, so he did it again, this time stroking more firmly, sinking his fingers into her folds, which were swollen and slippery with her arousal.
“That’s my girl,” he said, breathless with desire. Coating his fingers with her moisture, he returned them to circle around her clit.
“God, Danny...” Her hips pushed against his hand of their own accord, and her teeth tugged at her bottom lip. “How do you know exactly where to...ohhh...”
“Is that nice?” He returned his mouth to her breast, sucking harder this time, stroking her clit firmly. She clenched her fingers in his hair, her breaths becoming uneven again, and he knew she was close to coming.
Usually he would have been happy to bring a woman to orgasm and then start all over again before entering her, but today was different. He wanted her on the edge when he slid inside her, so close to tipping over that the sensation of him filling her would be welcome rather than painful.
Lifting up, he moved between her legs and looked down at her. “Ready, sweetheart?” He reached over to the bedside table, opened his wallet, took out a condom packet, and tore off the top. Her eyes were wide, the whole of her brown irises visible.
He rolled the condom on, then leaned over her. “Trust me?” he whispered.
She nodded. “I do.” Her lips curved in a tiny smile.
Their eyes met, and he felt an answering tug deep within him at her words. He wanted to hang onto the moment, because it had been so long since he’d experienced anything in his life as innocent as this girl. He’d grown up quickly, losing by the age of five or six many of the things that normally stayed well into childhood—a belief in Santa and the tooth fairy, a belief that his parents would always be there to love and protect him, and he’d lost his virginity at an age when many boys were still playing on their skateboards. Sex had never been about purity or innocence. And yet suddenly here was this girl giving herself to him, and he surprised himself by being incredibly touched.
Chapter Seventeen
Hermione looked up into Danny’s blue eyes. They held a strange expression she couldn’t quite fathom—possibly affection with a touch of surprise, although that didn’t explain the warmth in them.
“I trust you,” she said again, wanting to let him know that she appreciated him going slow and taking the time to arouse her first. She was sure that for many women, the first time was often quick and painful, or at least uncomfortable. For years she’d wished she’d lost her virginity at a young age, but suddenly she was pleased she’d waited for someone who knew what he was doing, and could make it pleasurable for her.
Danny shifted between her legs, guided the tip of his erection into her folds, then settled himself on top of her.
“Hey you,” he said, and kissed her nose.
“Hey.” She slid her arms around his waist and stroked his back. The guy had a body like a Greek god—even his muscles had muscles. Just looking at him made her breathless, and she still couldn’t believe they were actually having sex.
He kissed her lips, taking his time, and she let go of the tenseness that had crept back into her as she’d realized it was time for the final step. He was such a good kisser—he didn’t just stick his tongue in her mouth like some of the guys had when she’d gone on dates. Instead, the touch of his tongue against hers was sensual and sexy, and one of the many reasons her heart was racing at double speed.
All of a sudden, he pushed his hips forward and slid inside her.
She gasped, and he lifted his head to look at her.
“Ouch,” she said, and blew out a breath. It had hurt more than she’d thought it would.
He laughed and kissed her, hard and passionate. “Done,” he said, his eyes alight with triumph. After pulling back a little, he pushed forward again. This time, coated with her moisture, he slid inside her right up to the hilt. “Fuck, you’re tight.”
Hermione dug her fingers into his back, groaning at the sensation of being filled and stretched. “Ohhh...”
He began to move rhythmically, kissing her as he did so. Now the initial sharp pain had worn off, she could concentrate on the feelings that were s
tarting to rise within her again, the subtle clench of her muscles deep inside, the pleasurable ache that demanded to be fulfilled.
“Nice?” he murmured, kissing around her to her ear and nibbling the lobe.
“Nice is such a dull word,” she whispered back, moving her hands to his chest and sliding them across his firm, defined muscles. “Heavenly would be a better description. Blissful. Magical.”
He kissed back to her mouth, his lips curved in a smile, continuing to thrust slowly inside her. “I’m glad.”
“I’m serious, Danny.” She closed her eyes as he kissed down her neck. “Now I understand what all the fuss is about. You’re lucky I don’t live in New Zealand. I’d want to do this all day, every day. You’d never get any work done.”
He trailed his tongue down to her nipple, sucked it for a while, then returned to her mouth. “You might get bored.” He grazed his teeth on her bottom lip.
“Never.” Pleasure was building inside her, an orgasm approaching as if from a mile away. “I’d never get tired of this. Tell me we can do it again.”
He chuckled. “All night, I told you. I intend to wear you out.”
“Oh God...” She closed her eyes.
Lifting up onto his hands, he knelt beneath her, shifted up a little, and thrust more firmly. “Come on, sweetheart. Come for me.”
“I...oh...”
“I want to watch you, come on.” With each movement of his hips, he ground against her clit, and she felt the inevitable tensing of her internal muscles.
Her lips parted, and she clenched around him, everything tightening in exquisite, blissful pulses. The sensation of coming while being so full and complete was incredible, and it seemed to go on forever, leaving her panting and breathless, and grateful she was lying down, because she knew she would have fainted otherwise.
“Yes,” he said, his voice a growl, just that one word, but it was filled with satisfaction tinged with smugness, the knowledge of a man who’d just taken and pleasured his woman, a primeval desire that brought goosebumps rising all over her skin.
Taking her hands in his, he pinned them above her head and then began to thrust faster, harder. Hermione flexed her fingers in his, but found she could only lie there as he took his pleasure from her, and fuck was that sexy. She was able to watch his climax sweep over him, his fierce frown as he stilled, the way his body hardened to rock and his hips jerked while he spilled into her.
Part of her had wondered whether once it was all done she’d regret it, but at that moment, as she watched his beautiful body claim its prize, she knew she would never wish it hadn’t happened. How could she regret such a wondrous thing? He’d given her a treasure she’d always be able to cherish. In her quiet moments, when she was alone or feeling low, she’d be able to pull this memory out of the box and remember how happy she’d been, how complete and sated she’d felt.
He blinked and focused on her, and she smiled, feeling a surge of happiness as he laughed and bent to kiss her. “Look at you,” he said. “A virgin no more. Deflowered, as you so delicately put it.”
“I am no longer chaste and pure. Thank God.”
Grinning, he moved back and withdrew from her. She watched him lean across to grab a couple of tissues from the box on the bedside table and dispose of the condom. Then he sat back and held a clean tissue out to her.
When she gave him a puzzled look, he gestured between her legs. She touched the tissue there and inhaled when it came away with spots of blood.
“Oh.” Her cheeks warmed. “I didn’t expect that.” She wiped carefully and winced at the tenderness of the area.
He lay next to her. “You didn’t think you’d bleed?”
“Come on, Danny, I’ve ridden horses since I was a kid, and bicycles, and used tampons. It’s the last thing I thought would happen.” She disposed of the tissues and curled up next to him. “I feel like a medieval bride. I’m just waiting for the maid to come in and check the sheets.”
He laughed and stretched out. “I think it’s cool. Unassailable proof.” His eyes gleamed.
“You didn’t believe me?”
“Of course I believed you. I was joking.” He held up an arm. “Come here.”
She moved into his arms, and he wrapped them tightly around her and kissed her hair. “Thank you,” she murmured, “for being gentle.”
“It doesn’t come easily.” He chuckled.
“I can imagine. When I first saw you, I had visions of you throwing me onto the lawn and doing me there and then.”
“Funnily enough, I had the same fantasy.” They both laughed. “Well,” he continued, “we’ll have to see what we can do about making it come true.” He winked at her.
It wasn’t late, and she wasn’t sleepy particularly, but she felt incredibly warm and contented lying there in his arms.
He kissed her. “Are you okay?”
“Mmm.”
“Not sore?”
“Not too bad.”
“I’m sorry it hurt.”
“It’s okay. It was worth it.”
“I’m glad. It didn’t put you off sex then?”
She laughed. “No. Hardly.”
He kissed her again, long and lingering. “Next time, it’ll be better.”
“It gets better?”
“Well, I have to be careful what I say here, because if I say yes it implies last time wasn’t good, and it was. But yes, it gets better.”
“You mean doing it in other positions?”
“Well that’s just doing it differently. I meant more that it gets better when you know the other person, when you understand what turns them on.”
She raised her eyebrows. “That surprises me. I would have thought men preferred sex with new partners, where it’s all exciting.”
He shrugged. “Others might. I’ve never been a fan of one-night stands.”
“You’ve never had one?”
His lips twitched. “I didn’t say that.”
“Oh.” She couldn’t imagine having sex with someone she’d literally just met in a bar or nightclub. How awkward and uncomfortable it must feel. At least she’d been out with Danny a few times.
He stroked her cheek. “You look puzzled.”
“I’m just trying to understand. Can I ask you a question?”
“Fire away.”
“It’s a stupid one.”
“I doubt that, but you can ask anyway.”
“I understand why sometimes people have sex without being involved, without knowing each other. But is that the only difference between making love and...um...you know, fucking?” Her face grew hot as his lips curved. “I know it’s a stupid thing to ask. You can laugh if you want. I just wondered.”
He linked his fingers with hers and studied them as he thought about it. “It’s not stupid at all. I’ve never actually thought about it. Knowing the other person is part of the difference, I suppose. Making love involves affection and love. Fucking is more physical.”
“And we don’t know each other very well, so what we just did, that was...um...fucking, right?”
Lifting her hand to his mouth, he kissed her fingers, his eyes filled with smiles. “No, sweetheart. That was most definitely making love.”
“Then...”
“I know we haven’t known each other very long, But I like you very much. I wanted you to enjoy it, and I wanted to share that special moment with you. It was hot and sexy, but it was also more than that.”
Warmth filled her, heating her up from the inside out. “Oh.”
“The thing is, the best sex is both things at once. Sex without emotion can be cold and unsatisfying—it becomes a purely physical thing. But when you’re with someone you love, and when you want them so much it hurts, when you can’t wait to get them naked and hot and sweaty, that’s when it’s perfect.”
He’d released her hand, and she drew patterns on his chest, watching the hairs curl around her fingers. Would she ever experience that with anyone? She wasn’t going to be here l
ong enough to develop that kind of relationship with Danny. Thinking about it gave her a heaviness in her stomach that she couldn’t explain. It would have been marvelous if it were Danny she was engaged to. But instead she was due to marry Richard, and she couldn’t imagine developing the sort of relationship with him that Danny had just described, not even if they were married thirty years.
He slid a finger under her chin and lifted it so she met his eyes. “Don’t.” His eyes had hardened and looked a little fierce.
She swallowed. Don’t what? Don’t be sad? Don’t think about Richard?
Deciding it was better to change the subject, she kissed him, then cuddled up to him, resting her head on his shoulder. “Tell me about your first time.”
“Jeez. So long ago I can’t remember.”
“Were you really fourteen?”
“Yep.”
“I’m guessing she wasn’t.”
“No. She was sixteen. I looked and acted older. I never did tell her how young I was.”
“Was she a virgin too?”
“No.”
“So, was it good?”
“God no. I was useless. I was fourteen! It took quite a bit of practice to get this good.” He grinned.
“How much practice?”
“I haven’t kept count.”
“There have been so many?”
He looked startled. “I meant of the number of times I’ve done it, not of partners. You know, it’s rather unusual to discuss past sexual habits post coitus.”
“I’m rather unusual.”
“I’m beginning to realize that.”
She ignored his dry tone, too curious to stop now. “So come on, how many partners have you had? Fifty? A hundred?”
“Fucking hell, what kind of impression have you got of me? No, Hermione, nowhere close to that.”
“I’m sorry.” She could feel another blush creeping on. “I didn’t mean to insult you. I have no idea how many partners the average guy has. You must be, what? Twenty-seven, eight?”
“Twenty-nine.”
“So if you started at fourteen, that’s fifteen years of having sex, and I can’t imagine you going for long without it...”
An Ocean Between Us Page 12
