First & Last

I can feel the reverberation of his touch, his cocky smile, all the way down to my core. My legs clench tight, my pussy aches with want. I can feel myself getting wet. Shit, he’s only barely touched me. I’m in way over my head.

“You have questions, ask me. I’m an open book.”

“Why use that website?” I gesture at him with my free hand. His other hand is still wrapped around mine, and I don’t want to pull away, don’t want to lose his warm touch, the feeling of those strong fingers encircling mine. “I mean, look at you. You could clearly have any woman you wanted.”

He lifts an eyebrow, the cocky smirk still fixed in place. “Thank you for that. But it’s not about any woman. Just a certain kind of woman.”

I lick my lips, which suddenly feel dry. His gaze drops to study my mouth again, the look in his eyes hungry. “Virgins,” I say, my voice dropping to a whisper. It feels dirty to admit that. To say it out loud, here in public of all places. Not that there’s anyone around to hear us, but still.

Declan simply lifts his other eyebrow, both raised now, and continues to watch me carefully. He doesn’t seem ashamed at all. Simply curious. “Why are you on the site, Joyce?”

I shake my head, pulling my hand away from his so I can lean back in the booth. “Not for the reason you think.”

“What do I think?” He grins.

I shake my head again, harder. “I didn’t sign up for the money or anything.”

He only watches me. Waiting for me to elaborate.

I clear my throat. “It was just a stupid dare–I was drunk, my friend Vi showed me the site, started making a profile for me… It was a joke. That was all. I wasn’t looking for any kind of…” I take a hasty gulp of champagne to clear my throat. “Arrangement,” I finish, unable to meet his gaze.

“And yet you’re here,” he replies, his voice steady and confident. When I look back up, he’s watching me carefully, something unreadable in his gaze. What does he think of me now? Does he think I’m just desperate for cash or doing this to score some rich guy? Why do other girls go on this site?

For that matter, why am I here? Why did I come on this date, despite the weird as hell circumstances and my own misgivings? Why did it feel dirty and yet strangely hot to say virgin out loud, when in the past it’s always felt like a burden, like something strange for me to still be, at this age?

Why am I so attracted to this man?

“So how does this work?” I ask, swirling my champagne in the flute to avoid meeting his gaze. “Is this date part of it? We meet, we see how the… the bid goes…” I shake my head.

Am I actually considering doing this?

“It’s simple,” Declan replies. His voice is deep, serious. “I win the bid, I get to claim you.”

Finally, I drag my eyes back to his. There’s a fire in his gaze. A hunger. “That’s it?” I ask, my voice wavering. “You get sex, that’s all?”

His foot slides around my calf under the table. Hooks me. His other leg comes to meet it, trapping my leg between his. “Do you want me to take more?” he asks, smirking.

His hand finds mine on the table again, and this time, when I start to lean back, he tightens his grip on my wrist. Not enough to hurt, just enough to ask me to stay. To not pull away.

I freeze in place. Look up at him as he leans toward me, across the table, until our noses almost brush. He’s so close. He’s going to kiss me this time, I can feel it–and I want it. I want him to claim my mouth, brand me as his. My pussy tightens, and my clit feels swollen between my legs, aching with desire. My panties are already wet from his proximity, his touch.

“The only thing you need to do to get the money from the auction is fuck me, Joyce,” he murmurs. Another rush of heat races to my belly when he says that. Fuck me.

For the first time in as long as I can remember, I want to.

“But,” he adds, and it’s killing me how close we are, how I can feel his breath ghost across my lips, but he won’t kiss me, not yet. “There’s no rule that says we can’t keep having fun as long as we’d like.”

It’s too much. The way he makes me feel, the way he acts so confident about all this. The way he knows he’s making me want him, dammit. I have to assert some kind of control. I draw back, just half an inch. It makes my whole body ache to do it, and my pussy tightens again, angry with me for resisting what we both want. Still, I raise an eyebrow and try my best to keep my voice even as I reply, “What makes you think I’d want to keep this up?”

He laughs softly. This close, his laugh is deep, a thunder that I feel in my chest, vibrating through my body where we touch. “Addiction strikes in many ways, Joyce,” he replies, eyes catching mine again. “Would you like me to detail all the things I could do to make you weak for me? All the ways I can make you want me, need me?”

Without realizing it, I’ve started to lean forward. So has he, our lips a mere breath apart now.

“Our waiter hasn’t returned,” I point out, eyes still on his.

“Our waiter is smart enough to know when to leave us alone,” Declan counters, and this close, I can smell him, the heady scent that’s all him, beneath his cologne and his minty breath.

I breathe in deeply, trying to control myself. It doesn’t work. Because an instant later, Declan’s mouth crashes into mine, and I’m lost all over again. He kisses me hard, deep. His hand tightens on mine as he does, and he pulls me toward him, across the table, until we’re both sitting forward. His hand slides up my arm to cup the back of my neck, pulling me deeper into the kiss. His lips part against mine and our tongues entwine. He tightens his grip on my hair, and I reach up to grab his too, pinning his mouth to mine in the kiss.

He pulls away, and I gasp in protest when his mouth leaves mine. But he’s only standing, circling the table, sitting back down beside me in the booth, nothing separating us now. Then his mouth is on mine again, and I’m lost in the kiss, the sensation of his soft lips, hard kisses, rough stubble grazing my cheeks. He pulls me against him, our bodies melding together. Even through his suit, I can feel the hard stretch of his muscles. I run my hand down his chest, enjoying the feeling of his pecs, his abs, his body heat through the fabric of his crisp shirt.

His lips leave mine again, but only to trace along my jawline, down my neck. I arch my back, my head falling back as he kisses his way lower, down my body, his tongue flicking into my clavicle like he’s tasting me. A faint groan escapes my lips, and he tightens his arms around me, even as his hands slide down my back, toward my skirt.

“You are so lovely,” he murmurs into my neck, and I shiver, my nails digging into his back as I pull him tighter against me. “My sweet virgin,” he breathes, and I get wetter just hearing that. The possessive desire in his voice. The way he isn’t afraid to call me what I am.

One of his hands presses the small of my back, pinning me against him, and the other drops to my thigh. Inching up my leg, toward the hem of my skirt. I shiver against him, and he smirks at me, eyes flashing.

“Has anyone ever touched your pussy before, Joyce?”

I lick my lips, nervous. His eyes follow the motion, and I enjoy knowing that, inexperienced as I may be, I have some affect on him, too. I can see that by the growing bulge in his pants, and the way his pupils dilate when they

fix on me. “Only me,” I whisper.

His smile widens. I guess that was the right answer. His hand slips under the hem of my skirt, grazes my inner thigh. “I want to feel you. I want to know what I’m buying.”

My breath catches. He says it so simply, so frankly. No shame. And it is sexy as hell. “Touch me,” I breathe, and then his hand is sliding higher, higher. He kisses me again, lips distracting me from his hand, inching up my leg. But when his finger grazes the sensitive spot where my thigh meets my hip, my whole body tenses, and I gasp into his mouth, shocked. It feels so good, his warm hand on my skin, not knowing where he’ll touch next, what he’ll do to me.

He smiles into our kiss, and catches my lower lip between his teeth, biting gently. When he releases me, he leans in to kiss my earlobe, his tongue toying with my earring. “It’s different, isn’t it? Knowing someone else is in control. That I can touch you however I’d like…” He trails his finger across the top of my mound, just grazing the edges of my panties, and I gasp again, despite myself. “If you decide to become my dirty little virgin, Joyce, I’ll make you feel things you never imagined.” His fingers slip under my panties, red-hot against my skin. I arch my back, leaning against him, needing the support because my body feels like it will turn to jelly if he keeps this up.

My clit throbs with desire. I’ve been turned on before, I’ve masturbated and used toys, but it was always at my pace. Which is to say, I teased myself for half a second and then got off as quick as possible. I’ve never felt like this–strung out, teased, led on, without knowing when, or even if, he’ll give me release. He hasn’t even touched my pussy yet–his fingers circle my mound, pressing harder here or there, studying me with those steady gray eyes, watching when I tense, when I react. Soon he’s stroking my mound steadily, and it’s such a light touch, not where I want, and yet still so close, close enough that everything is on fire, that I groan through gritted teeth and arch my back, trying to push his fingers closer to my pussy.