Scored (V-Card Diaries 1)

But then he shoves the denim down around his ankles, moving closer as he steps out of the puddle of fabric, exposing the very firm, very thick, very long ridge beneath his boxer briefs.

My breath catches and my lips part. “Well, then,” I say, fighting the urge to squirm as my nipples tighten until they begin to sting with the need to be touched. I finally drag my eyes from his arousal up to his face, awareness zipping through me again as his heated gaze locks with mine. “Is that for me? Or do you just really like losing at hangman?”

“I don’t like losing at anything. Now, tell me the word.”

“Molasses,” I say, dry panties a thing of the past as he puts his hands on my shoulders, urging me to lean back into the couch cushions.

He straddles my hips, arousing my body and my curiosity, as he says, “That’s a diabolical selection.”

“I know. I’m very diabolical,” I say, distracted by his fingers teasing into my hair. “Are you giving me a lap dance?”

He grins. “No. I just felt like I wanted to straddle your smug little body and trap you on my couch, so I did. Is that all right?”

“Very all right.” I trail my fingers over his pecs and down the ridges of his abs. “I feel like I want to lick you right here, in between every tight muscle. Is that okay?”

“That’s not only okay,” he says, his voice deepening as I continue to explore him with my fingers, “it’s our practice for today.”

I glance up, feeling weirdly powerful in my current position, even though he’s huge and hovering over me and I couldn’t get up if I tried. “What’s that?”

“Following your sex muse,” he says, “and making sure what you like is cool with your partner.”

I bite my lip. “I’m not sure I’ve ever been in touch with my sex muse. Usually, I’m so busy worrying about whether I’m doing it ‘right’ I’m all in my head about…” I trail off, distracted by his fingers wrapping around my wrists. “What’s this?”

“This is me pinning your arms and kissing your neck.” He shifts until his knees are on the floor, which—thanks to the height difference—brings his lips even with my shoulder. “One second.”

He releases my wrists to grip the backs of my thighs. He jerks my hips a few inches closer to the edge of the cushion, sending a lightning bolt of arousal surging through me at the assured way he handles my body.

“There we go,” he murmurs, recapturing my wrists and pressing them into the cushions above my head as he bends to kiss my neck, which is now in the perfect position.

I draw in a shuddery breath. “My sex muse likes it when you jerk me around a little. Like that with the… With the… That body part I can’t remember the name of because you’re very good at kissing.”

“Your hips?” His lips curve against my throat, where my pulse is throbbing faster.

“Yes, those.” My lids flutter closed as his mouth settles over mine, kissing me slowly, almost carefully, making it clear he’s in no rush.

“You taste so good,” he whispers in between kisses. “Your skin, your lips.”

“You, too,” I say, wrapping my legs around his waist as he presses closer, intensifying the kiss until my head is spinning. “But I want to feel you. More of you. Without…fabric in the way.”

“I think we can make that happen.” He reaches for the bottom of my dress, pulling it up and over my head, his breath catching as his gaze settles on my bralette. “Wow, that’s sexy as hell. Your nipples through that lace.”

I swallow hard, my pulse going crazy as he cups my breasts in both hands and drags his thumbs over both tight, aching tips. The sensation is so intense, so much more electric than anything caused by my own hands or even Vince the few times he touched me here, that my body bows, pressing my hips into his chest, knocking him back into the coffee table.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry,” I say in a rush, mortification threatening to banish the delicious feelings.

“Don’t you dare apologize,” he says, scooping me up in his arms and guiding my legs around his waist as he carries me over to an empty patch of carpet beside the windows and lays me down, lengthening himself on top of me. “I love that you’re so responsive. It makes me crazy.”

He kisses my nipples through my bra as I pant, “Yeah, me, too. God, that feels so good, Ian.”

“So sweet,” he murmurs as he pulls my bra up and over my head. And then his tongue is on my bare skin, sucking and licking and teaching me just how much crazier I can get.

“Holy shit,” I gasp, clinging to his shoulders as he continues his wicked, wonderful torture. “I feel that everywhere. How can I feel it everywhere?”