His Innocent Seduction

by Clare Connelly

  It’s addictive.

  ‘Yeah, okay,’ she mumbles, stepping back. ‘You’re hot. You must know that. Is it a crime to stare?’

  ‘Definitely not,’ I promise. ‘That was only one item.’

  Her eyes lift to mine at the unspoken invitation, and then she’s moving forward. Her fingers find the front of my pants but I reach down, stilling her. ‘The belt.’

  ‘The belt?’ She wrinkles her nose and without warning I lean down and kiss its tip.

  ‘Yeah. There’s no rush, right?’

  She arches a brow. ‘Speak for yourself.’

  Her honesty and innocence are an intoxicating mix.

  ‘Your turn.’

  ‘My turn?’ She looks towards the pool table. Even though she’s not looking at me, I shake my head.

  ‘To disrobe, Millie. I sunk one ball. One item, your penalty.’

  ‘Oh, right.’ She turns to look at me, her huge eyes like lagoons I could dive into. Her hands move for her shirt, but I shake my head. I want to see her breasts again but, more than that, I want to see her ass.

  ‘Jeans.’

  She lifts a brow. ‘I have a belt disadvantage.’

  ‘More fool you.’

  ‘I didn’t know we’d be playing strip pool.’

  I shrug. ‘Jeans.’

  She nods, pulling the button and zip apart once more and stepping out of the denims with haste. I stare at her with the same hunger she did me. The lace underpants are better than I could have imagined. It’s a thong.

  ‘Turn around.’ My voice is husky, the command desperate.

  Her eyes widen but then she nods, doing as I’ve said, and now she does so slowly, pirouetting on the spot. I watch her, my eyes trained on the most perfect ass I’ve ever had the pleasure of surveying.

  The tiny scrap of lace covers her—just.

  ‘Okay.’ I clear my throat. ‘I’m suddenly in a hurry to sink some balls.’

  She laughs and shakes her head. ‘Go ahead.’

  I eye the table. It doesn’t matter that everything’s been moved—the rules of competitive pool seem unimportant now.

  I pick off another ball easily, turning to face her. Her cheeks are a little pink as she reaches for the hem of her shirt. This time, I don’t stop her. She pushes it up her body, her eyes on mine until she has to close them to pull it over her head. She drops it to the floor at her feet.

  I swallow hard.

  I’ve been fantasising about those breasts since she left, but somehow I’d forgotten just how...damned...perfect they are.

  I choose my next shot but, right as I draw back to strike the ball, she says, ‘Will you teach me to go down on you?’

  I miss.

  I miss by a mile.

  I jerk my head up towards hers and she’s smiling cheekily, fully aware of what that little salvo did to my concentration.

  ‘I intend to teach you everything.’ The air between us sparks with awareness.

  All I can think about is Millie down in front of me. Fuck.

  Control.

  Control this.

  ‘Your go.’

  She has to walk past me to get her pool cue. I reach out and cup her ass cheek as she does. Her moan is soft but I hear it.

  ‘Rule clarification. Is touching allowed?’

  I nod sagely. ‘It’s encouraged.’

  ‘I see.’ At that, she lifts a hand to my chest. The curiosity I’d expected when she undressed me is in evidence now. Biting down on that full lower lip, she traces a line around my chest, feeling my ridges and muscles, exploring me as though she’s surveying a whole new landscape.

  She turns away abruptly, staring at the table; I can’t take my eyes off her.

  There’s an easy shot. She either doesn’t see it or ignores it. ‘Help me?’

  She leans over the table, and I see what she’s going for. But I don’t want to help her just yet. I want to watch her. From this angle, the thong is practically non-existent. I’m so hard it’s actually painful to close the space between us.

  ‘You know, there’s an easier shot...’

  ‘I like a challenge,’ she murmurs, looking back at me with a smile that robs me of breath. I shadow her with my frame, swallowing her in my size as I have previously. She wriggles back a little and, despite her inexperience, I think she knows she’s driving me absolutely crazy.

  ‘Concentrate,’ I murmur into her ear, guiding her cue and striking it with her. The white ball hits a striped one and it moves towards the middle pocket, dropping into it.

  She breathes out slowly and, without moving, says, ‘Pants.’

  I don’t step away from her. Instead, I reach for my button, my fingers brushing her ass cheeks in the process, so I feel her sharp intake of breath. I undo my trousers slowly, revelling in my fingers’ proximity to her body, and then I push out of my pants, allowing my hands to grip her hips.

  This is ridiculous. Like this, my cock is separated from her by only the flimsy cotton of my boxer briefs and the lace scrap of her thong.

  I press myself against her, and again feel her draw in a gulp of air. I roll my hips and her breath draws in, catching low in her throat.

  ‘Your turn again.’

  She lines the shot up too quickly and misses.

  I’m glad. Strip pool is best if she does the lion’s share of undressing.

  ‘So, is this a regular part of your seduction routine?’ The question is a little unsteady. She sips her beer.

  ‘No.’ I have an easy shot. I take it, and laugh when two balls land in opposing holes.

  ‘That’s you done.’ I grin.

  But she arches a brow, reaching down and pulling first one sock and then the other from her feet. ‘Not quite,’ she teases back.

  I press my hands to my chest, pretending to be wounded.

  ‘There’s still time.’

  ‘But all your balls are gone.’

  ‘Not yet.’ I nod towards the eight ball.

  ‘Oh.’ She watches as I take aim. ‘What happens when you sink it?’

  I look up at her, my eyes roaming her body hungrily, and then move back to the table. I aim for the ball. It’s right by a pocket. With the smallest nudge, I drive it in.

  She holds her breath, watching me.

  ‘Well?’ It’s husky. ‘What’s it to be? Top? Or bottom?’

  I pretend to ponder it for a moment, then come around the pool table so I’m right in front of her.

  Without speaking, I reach behind her and unhook her bra. She watches me as I slide it down her arms, then drop it to the floor. I loved her breasts encased in lace, as they were the other night. I love them more naked.

  I haven’t stopped thinking about them since she stripped on the balcony. I remember every detail of them. I dip my head forward and take one of her nipples in my mouth.

  She gasps in surprise and then her back sways forward and her hands cling to my shoulders. I roll my tongue over her nipple, flicking it, and my fingers find her other, tormenting it between thumb and forefinger, so she’s shining with pleasure. I half lift her and she half pushes up, so she’s sitting on the pool table with me between her legs.

  Fuck, I want her. I want her like this; to hell with my intentions to take this slowly, to teach her everything before finally succumbing to my own sexual needs. I take as much of her breast into my mouth as I can and then I swap to the other, my fingers moving over her wet flesh while my tongue rolls over her nipple then sucks, and she whimpers as I play with her, and pleasure builds inside me. Fuck it, I want this.

  I pull away, just so I can sip my ice-cold beer and then I’m back at her breast, rolling the ice-cold liquid over her, and she cries out then moans and thrashes, falling back against the green velvet of the pool table. I hold my body over hers, pulling her thighs forward so she’s rid
ing my erection even though there’s still way too much fabric between us.

  She arches her back and I run my hands over the valley between her breasts and once more find her beautiful, warm sex. I drive a finger inside her and she cries out, bringing her feet to the edge of the table and swearing into the night air.

  ‘Please, Michael,’ she screams, and I smile despite the seriousness of this desire.

  I swirl my finger around and her tight muscles clench hard. And, just like in the lift, I murmur, ‘Please, what?’

  ‘Fuck me!’

  I watch her as she tips over the edge, her beautiful face flushed and screwed up as pleasure saturates her body. I watch her and it takes all my willpower not to push my boxers down and thrust into her. I watch her and know the sight of her orgasms is addictive and dangerous and pleasure thrills low inside me. There is not much I like more than a challenge, and keeping my desire for Millie in check will be that.

  ‘That’s enough for now,’ I hear myself say, while her breathing is still rushing from her as though she’s run a marathon.

  I pull away from her and she scrambles up onto her elbows, staring at me as though I’ve lost the plot. And I have, obviously, because my dick is hard and my mind is filled with images of possessing this beautiful, willing woman who’s almost naked in my apartment.

  But I don’t. I step back, smiling at her, regulating my own breathing and curbing my every impulse.

  ‘Shall we play again?’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ‘SURE,’ I MURMUR, my eyes locked to his. But I don’t pick up the pool cue. Instead, I slide my hands into the sides of my thong, curving my fingertips over the lace.

  His bare chest lifts and falls quickly.

  ‘Or we could play something else,’ I murmur, pushing my underwear down my thighs, holding his gaze as I step out of them and stand before him, completely naked.

  ‘Such as?’ He holds himself rigid, but I see the effort it takes. Hiding a smile, I step towards him and when my body’s so close we’re practically touching, I nudge my fingers into the waistband of his boxers, exhaling as I curve my fingers around his ass.

  God, what an ass! I bite down on my lower lip as I pull him closer, dragging his body to mine as I step backwards to the table. I push his shorts as I go and he’s still so rigid, so determined not to react, only I feel his reactions, I hear them. I hear the rush of his breathing and the racing of his pulse. Power slams through me. Power at what I’m capable of—power at what I know is about to happen.

  I lift up onto the edge of the pool table and hook my ankles around his waist, holding him right there, and his eyes bore into mine, his mouth locked tight, his jaw immovable.

  ‘Don’t fight me on this,’ I say simply, walking my fingers up his chest, cupping his cheeks and pulling his face towards mine.

  But he is fighting me. He’s tense as though the world’s survival depends on his ability to resist me. ‘Not like this,’ is all he says.

  ‘Why not?’ I move forward, my mouth so close to his.

  ‘Because.’

  I smile despite the tension and need hammering my sides. ‘That’s hardly an answer, Michael.’

  ‘Because you’re inexperienced and that’s not just about sex. There’s so much more to this...to what you want to learn. You just don’t know it.’

  ‘So show me,’ I say, challenging him. ‘Show me everything you think I’ve missed out on. But let me have this first. Tonight. I’m a twenty-three-year-old virgin and I want you to be my first. I’m asking you to have sex with me now, tonight, not tomorrow or the day after. I’m asking you to do this, and I’m telling you I want it.’

  His groan is tormented.

  ‘Don’t make me wait any more.’ I buzz his lips with mine. ‘I promise I won’t regret it.’

  And then something inside him snaps because he’s kissing me in a way that is all fire and flame, his lips ravaging mine, the strength of his kiss pushing me back on the table as his body climbs up on top of me, his knees on the pool table, his hands running over my breasts.

  ‘You don’t know what you’re asking for,’ he groans, and he’s right, I don’t. But I know I need this, I want this. I am desperate to feel him, all of him.

  ‘I trust you,’ I say simply and he pulls away from me. Fear ices my heart. I sit up, watching him, but he’s simply retrieving something from his jeans. A condom. He stares at me and there’s accusation, recrimination and passion in his eyes, a look that sears my soul.

  ‘I want you,’ I say, and he nods.

  ‘I know.’

  Fuck. This is happening.

  He rips the top off the condom packet and rolls it down his impressive length.

  Having never seen a guy’s dick before, I have zero relative experience but he is...very...well-endowed. Heat stains my cheeks as he brings his body back over mine.

  ‘You’re going to tell me if you want to stop,’ he demands huskily, his eyes locked to mine.

  I nod, even though I’ll probably never want him to stop.

  ‘We don’t have to do this.’

  ‘I want to.’

  ‘You could meet a guy tomorrow who you really like, who you want to spend the rest of your life with...’

  I reject the idea with a visceral intensity. ‘No.’ I soften the word with a small smile. ‘I don’t want to meet anyone now. I just want to have sex.’

  He kisses me then, as his hand slips between my legs, spreading my thighs, and then his finger moves between my sex and dips inside me. The invasion is unexpected—stupidly—and so freaking good. I arch my back on instinct and his name spills from my lips. His lips trail down my throat, catching a nipple and pulling it between his teeth, and the pleasure is so unbearable that I don’t even protest when his finger pulls out of me. His tongue circles my nipple, the nerve endings so sensitive, desire thick in my blood, and then his fingers tweak the other, pulling at it until I’m incandescent, writhing from side to side, pleasure burning me from the inside out.

  Having waited so long for this, I have no idea how I can wait a moment longer. I can’t.

  ‘Please,’ I groan, and the tip of his cock pushes against me and I stiffen without realising it.

  ‘Shh...’ he murmurs. ‘Relax.’

  He brings his mouth to mine and kisses me hard, a kiss of possession and reassurance, of desire and need. And then he pushes into me, hard and deep, and my fingernails dig into his shoulders as my body experiences the first flush of something like pain, a discomfort, as this completely unfamiliar invasion fills me. He pulls up, looking at me, his expression one of concern and control.

  And then he moves slowly, still watching me, pulling his dick back a little and sliding deeper again, in and out, forward and back, slowly, gently, rolling his hips so all of me feels all of him and any whisper of pain slips away so there’s only this radiant, rising, desperate need.

  ‘You’re not a virgin any more,’ he says, a hint of mockery in his words, even as he’s kissing me. ‘Should I stop now?’

  ‘Don’t you ever bloody stop,’ I snap, dropping my hands to his butt and pressing on him, holding him deep inside me.

  His laugh rumbles straight into my belly. ‘I’ll try my hardest.’

  ‘I knew I chose you for a reason.’

  He’s still for a moment and then his body is thrusting into mine and my hips lift to meet his rhythm and my pleasure radiates through me. I hold onto him for dear life and he’s still, waiting for me, watching me. Waves seem to carry me towards a shore, like I’m breaking on its edge. I dig my nails into his back and then tumble over.

  When I open my eyes he’s smiling at me, a faint shift of his lips.

  ‘How do you feel?’

  ‘Like I could walk on the moon.’ It’s the first thing that comes to me, but his grin widens.

  ‘Nice.’

 
; ‘Better than nice.’ I push up on my elbows, seeking his lips; he kisses me, pushing me back to the pool table and he thrusts into me, my already sensitive nerve endings quivering as he shows me that what we did before was actually pretty fucking mild.

  That was sex.

  This is fucking.

  He grips my hips and drives into me and I cry out because I had no idea anything could ever feel like this—I’m being stirred to fever-pitch from inside. I lift my legs and he grabs my ankles, hooking them over his shoulders. Hell, he’s so deep inside me now, I groan and he brings his hands down, cupping my butt, lifting me up higher.

  God.

  This is heaven on earth. Right here, like this.

  ‘Fuck,’ I cry out, and he laughs softly.

  Harder. Faster. Deeper.

  But I’m rolling over the wave again and all I can do is moan loudly, so loudly, and scratch my nails over the green velvet as he drives me to the edge of sanity and humanity. This time he holds me still when I fall apart and he comes inside me, he comes hard, my name on his lips rough and gritty and the best thing I’ve ever heard, because there’s insanity and loss of control in the way he’s calling ‘Millie’ into the passion-soaked air. And I like hearing it.

  * * *

  My body craves her when I wake up. I reach for her on instinct, finding emptiness, because she left some time after midnight. I called her a cab and she slipped into it, throwing me a smile that was dazzling and confident as the taxi pulled away.

  Not a hint of doubt or regret.

  She was glad we fucked.

  And God knows, I am too.

  I reach for her, though, my body already wanting her again. And then I collapse back against the mattress. She’s gone. I’m relieved because the rules I live by will be even easier than usual to obey. No strings. Just sex. Incredibly hot sex. And with a definite, irrefutable endpoint.

  I want her again and, despite all the certainties I have, the reassurance that the confines of this relationship are locked into place, I know I’ll make myself wait. I won’t call her today, or go to the bar tonight. I’ll wait as long as I can, as long as is humanly possible. I’ll wait until I feel like I’m going to burst out of my skin, and then I’ll test myself and see if I can wait any longer.