Scored (V-Card Diaries 1)

“Fuck, Evie, fuck,” I growl. Realizing that all of that wet heat is for me is enough to banish the last of my control.

I hammer into her, deep and hard, as she squirms and makes more unspeakably sexy coming sounds. The fire burning low in my body flares hotter, hotter, until finally I can’t hold on another second.

I come with a roar, shoving deep as my balls tighten and my soul pours out of my cock and into Evie. Into the condom between us, of course, but that isn’t what it feels like.

I feel so connected, so consumed, so grateful and blissed out that it takes several minutes for me to realize the wetness I feel on my cheeks is tears.

I pull back, heart stuttering as I search Evie’s face. “You okay?”

She grins. “So much better than okay.” Her forehead furrows and her smile drops away as she cups my face in her hands. “You?”

I sniff, realizing with a start that the tears are mine, not hers. “Um, yeah,” I say with an awkward laugh. “I don’t know why I’m… I’m not sad. Not even close.”

She lifts her head, pressing a soft kiss to my cheek. “Sometimes unexpected emotions rise to the surface during therapy.”

I smile. “This isn’t therapy.”

“Isn’t it, though?” she asks. “We just got close, got honest, and…got off. It’s like therapy but with a big bonus at the end.” She exhales a happy sigh. “I’m a fan.”

Laughing I pin her wrists to the mattress and stare down into her flushed, satisfied face. “Me, too. But I don’t think I’ve worked through all my issues just yet. I’m going to need another session.”

She studies me from under her lashes. “I think that can be arranged.”

And it is and our second time is even better than our first.

The third isn’t too shabby either and by the time we fall asleep—exhausted and oh-so-satisfied—in each other’s arms, I’m pretty sure I want to be in “therapy” with Evie for the rest of my life.

But you only have one night, and that night is almost over.

Ignoring the inner voice of doom, I cuddle Evie close and drift off with my face buried in her silky soft hair, pretending we have all the time in the world, knowing morning—and reality—will intrude soon enough.

Chapter 30

Evie

I wake with a smile on my face and a warm, glowing feeling inside.

Then I turn over to see the most beautiful man in the world asleep beside me and my chest overflows. My heart just spills over until it feels like love is rushing out of me like a waterfall.

And then Ian opens his eyes and smiles like I’m the best thing he’s ever woken up to and the waterfall becomes a flood.

“Hey, you,” he says, his voice rough.

“Hey to you, too,” I say, grinning as he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me closer. “How’d you sleep?”

“Shitty,” he says, still grinning. “I kept waking up hard and dying to be inside the sexy little blonde in my bed.”

“You should have woken me up.”

“Nah, you needed your rest. And you’re pretty when you’re sleeping.”

“You, too.” I prop my arms on his pecs, studying the stubble on his chin. “And I really like your morning whiskers.”

“You’re not going to like them once you feel how scratchy they are,” he says, taking my hand and bringing my fingers to his cheek. “See?”

I hum thoughtfully. “Yes, they are scratchy. But what if I like scratchy whiskers against my thighs first thing in the morning?”

“Do you?” he asks, the last of the sleepiness fading from his expression as he squeezes my bottom beneath the covers.

“I don’t know,” I whisper as I press a kiss to his chest. “But I’m dying to find out.”

Less than three minutes later, I’m crying Ian’s name as I come on his mouth, proving scratchy whiskers paired with soft lips and a firm tongue are as riveting a combination as I suspected. And then Ian is rolling me over onto my stomach and gliding into me from behind, sinking into me with the same ease, the same perfection as last night.

There’s a hint of soreness at first, but by the second long, languid thrust, there’s only pleasure, only bliss, only Ian, the lover who could quickly become the biggest piece of my heart if I let him. I come again, clinging to the arm he’s wrapped around my ribs and arching into the thick cock jerking inside of me, telling myself over and over that this is beautiful, but temporary.

This is the end, not the beginning.

And that’s okay. I can survive this. I can enjoy our last few hours together and then let him go.

But no matter how firmly my inner voice lectures on the importance of perspective, there are tears in my eyes by the time we’re finished. Thankfully, however, he’s behind me, and I have time to wipe them away while he removes the condom and wraps it in tissues from beside the bed.