Her shyness annoyed me. Guys had to be telling her all the time how hot she was. I’d fucked plenty of girls who weren’t as good looking, and when we’d gotten down to business, they’d raced to strip and show off their goods. They’d been proud, and it was sexy. So, this bashful routine was stupid and disingenuous.
I wanted her gaze on mine. The need was . . . surprising.
“Oksana.”
Her blue eyes finally settled on me. Jesus fuck, what had my joint been laced with? Her haunting eyes made me want to stand up. They whispered to walk the five or six steps to her, grab the messy knot of hair on the back of her head, and slam my mouth over hers. I wanted to fuck her mouth, not with my cock . . . but with my tongue.
I was messed up.
She was trembling so hard, she mimicked a skyscraper the moment after the demolition charges on the supports had been blown. Barely held together and about to collapse. I sat up straighter so I could move fast if she did.
The longer I stared at her, the more I believed her shyness wasn’t an act. She was legitimately terrified. So, why didn’t she run? Why’d she take the robe off without a fight? I had to adjust my game to keep up.
I lifted my hands in a fake surrender. “I’m not touching you right now.” I swept my gaze down her amazing body. “Even though I really fucking want to.” It wasn’t a lie. In fact . . . “I can’t wait to slide my hands all over you. Inside you. Make you wet. Have you moaning for me to get you off.”
She tore her gaze away and didn’t know what to do with her hands. They moved nervously from her sides, to her hips, until she crossed her arms over her chest. Her anxiety was so strong, the taste of it was thick and intoxicating in the air.
I stood from the bed. “You don’t like sex?”
Her bottom lip quivered. It took forever for her to answer me, and her voice faltered. “I . . . wouldn’t know.”
What the fuck did she mean? I laughed, but it died in my throat. You’ve got to be fucking with me.
“You’re a virgin.” I didn’t ask it as a question, but my tone was skeptical.
She pressed her lips together in a thin line and nodded.
Was it true? The Russian whore was actually a virgin? She didn’t like to be touched, and maybe she was religious enough to want to save herself for marriage. Her freaking out at being naked made more sense now.
My cock grew harder against the fly of my jeans. I’d never had a virgin before. When I was fifteen, one of my stepmother’s friends popped my cherry while her husband played golf with my dad. All the girls I’d dated after that affair had already jumped on a cock by the time I got to them.
I was happy with my new toy, but to find out she was brand new? That I was going to be the one to tear open the plastic wrap and take her out of the box? I had to rein in my excitement. No one had touched her the way I was going to, and I’d always be the first.
Her expression was desperate. “Can we do this?” She shivered. “I want to get it over with.”
I strolled close and dropped my voice low. “No.”
Fuck, no. My laugh was evil. I wasn’t going to give her exactly what she wanted, and besides, this was something to be enjoyed. Savored. All my plans for her shifted for the hundredth time tonight.
“You anxious to have me punch your V card?” I asked. “You get that I have to touch you to fuck you, right?” To reinforce it, I ran my fingertip down her arm, and grinned as she flinched away. I liked how skittish she was.
“I know how it works.” Her shoulders were tight, but she didn’t turn away or bend down to put the robe back on. Her body was saying no, but her words were telling me yes. It fucked with my head, when I wanted to do that to hers.
“Do you, now, virgin?” This time I trailed all of my fingertips down her chest, sweeping them over her erect nipple, and watched goosebumps lift on her skin. “You know what it’s gonna be like when I push my cock inside and tear up your innocent little pussy?”
She gasped, choking on air.
The decision was made instantly. No fucking her tonight. Leaving her suspended in anticipation got me so hard, my dick ached. It came with its own pleasure, and I’d get my satisfaction from her in another way. Until I was ready, I’d keep pushing. I’d goad her to tell me to stop.