Sinful Ella (Seven Ways to Sin 6)

We should never have been in there in the first place, I thought. It’s my fault she’s gone. But this part, I kept inside. There were some parts of my story I could never share, even with my closest friends.

I cleared my throat. “Anyway,” I said. “Since then, I guess it’s just felt . . . wrong? To enjoy myself when Bernadette couldn’t. So instead I’ve just been making myself miserable.” I cast an apologetic glace around. “Not to mention everyone around me.”

Ella nodded. “I understand,” she said. “When my mom died . . . it took a long time before I stopped feeling guilty whenever I felt happy. But I finally realized that she would want that for me. She would want me to enjoy life, even without her.”

“You’re right,” I said. “And I think . . . it’s time I let myself enjoy things again.” My eyes met hers. “Starting with you, Ella.”

15

Ella

I licked my lips, my mouth suddenly going dry as Grant advanced toward me. He crouched in front of me, his hands on my thighs, gaze fixed on my face. “I’ve been watching you all night, Ella,” he said, and his voice seemed to cut through to the very core of me.

“You have?” I squeaked, and flushed. Grant smiled.

“I have,” he said, his fingers tracing patterns on my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. “You are the most beautiful girl I’ve seen in a long time. I haven’t been able to think about anything except making love to you since I first laid eyes on you.”

I gasped as the tips of his fingers dipped below the hem of my dress and quickly withdrew. “We can take this as slowly as you need,” he said. “I just need to do this.” He leaned in, claiming my lips in a lingering, sensuous kiss. I closed my eyes and leaned in to him.

When Grant pulled away, good humor danced in his eyes. I drank him in: tall, a little scruffy, but in a way that worked for him. I ran my hands down his shoulders and along his arms, feeling the flex of his muscles beneath my touch. “Tell me about yourself, Ella,” he said.

As I chatted with Grant, telling him about my home, my music, my church, I understood what Saul had meant when he said Grant would be the perfect man for me to lose my virginity to. He had a way of making me feel like I was the only person in the room—in the world, even. His eyes never strayed from my face, and he listened thoughtfully as I spoke, even as his hands roamed my body, eliciting little shivers and gasps.

Finally, I couldn’t take it any longer. “I’m ready,” I said, meeting his eye.

Grant hesitated. “Are you sure?” he asked. “We can wait, if you’re not.”

“I’m sure,” I said.

Grant didn’t wait for further invitation. Standing, he pulled me to my feet and carried me to the bed. I laid back, heart pounding, as I watched Grant lean over me. Would it hurt? I wondered. I had heard that your first time would hurt. Still, I was ready. I wanted this experience to take home with me.

Slowly, reverently, Grant undressed me, stripping my beautiful borrowed gown from my body and tossing it aside. His eyes ran over my body, and I fought the urge to cover myself. The admiration in Grant’s eyes was clear. His fingers trailed down my body, pausing to cup my breasts, plucking at my tightly puckered nipples until I reared off my bed, gasping with pleasure. His low laughter rumbled through me, and his hand traveled lower, lower, until his fingers reached the palace where my body ached for him.

I cried out as his fingers grazed my clit, sending waves of pleasure through me. For just a moment, Grant dipped a finger inside me, then swirled the wetness around my clit.

“So wet,” he murmured, kissing the base of my neck. “You are ready for me, aren’t you?”

I nodded, and this time Grant slipped two fingers inside me. I jumped a little at the unfamiliar sensation, but as Grant’s thumb worked in little circles over my clit, I felt my body relax around the intrusion. “What do you want, Ella?” he said, his voice low in my ear.

“I want . . .” I licked my lips. Could I really say what I wanted out loud? I couldn’t believe I was doing this, losing my virginity to a stranger—in front of an audience, no less. Grant withdrew his hand, and I whimpered at the sudden loss of him.

“Say it,” he said.

“I want you to fuck me.” My voice was barely above a whisper, but it was all Grant needed to hear. Standing, he quickly stripped out of his leather pants, revealing his long, hard cock.