Screwed (V-Card Diaries 2)

His thrusts come faster, harder, until he’s slamming into me with a force that a part of me insists should hurt, but it doesn’t. It feels fucking fantastic, so good that I’m almost there a third time when he shoves deep, his spine bowing as his cock pulses deep inside me.

But even as his face twists with pleasure and he’s clearly riding his own crazy wave, he reaches down and thumbs my clit, rubbing in firm circles until I reach the finish line again just seconds after he does.

“Fucking fuck,” I pant as he collapses on top of me, leaving me clinging to his heavy body as my pussy ripples around his still semi-hard length. “Fuckity fuck fuck fuck, so fucking good. Fuck!”

He laugh-hums against my neck. “Amen.”

I lie beneath him, muscles slowly relaxing as the last of the wave ebbs away. After a long beat, I mutter in a softer voice, “Fuck.”

He lifts his head, grinning down at me. “Your vocabulary takes a big hit when you’re coming, doesn’t it?”

I smile back, giddy and shameless. “Fuck.”

He laughs, making his cock shift inside me.

I grip his ass, holding him close. “No. Don’t laugh. I want you to stay inside. Just stay inside me forever.”

“I should get rid of the condom. I don’t think we’re ready for kids just yet, do you?”

“I’m on the pill,” I say, forcing my hands from his bottom with effort. “But yes, you’re probably right. I obviously have no cooties, but who knows about you.”

“Nope, no cooties. Was tested a couple months ago and haven’t been with anyone since.” He reaches down, holding the top of the condom as he slowly pulls out, making my lips turn down hard at the edges. He laughs again. “You look like you just found out you’re not getting a pony for Christmas.”

“But I am getting a pony,” I say, playing up my pout. “And I’m going to ride him all night long.” I flutter my fingers toward the bathroom. “So, go take care of that, and get back here so I can seduce you again, mister.”

“You don’t have to seduce me,” he says, winking as he slides off the bed. “I’m a sure thing, Hepburn. Any time you want me, my dick is yours to command.”

I smile and stretch my arms over my head. “Good. As you know, I enjoy being bossy from time to time, and commanding dick sounds like fun.”

He grins and reaches down to slap the side of my ass with his free hand, making me yip and grin wider. “But now I also know that you like being bossed around every now and then, too.”

“And you like that?”

“That makes me crazy. You make me crazy. That was…” He trails off, his smile fading and an almost shy expression shifting his features. “That was the best sex of my life.”

“Me, too,” I confess, before I realize that isn’t really saying much and add, “I mean, it was even better than I imagined it could be. It was…perfect.”

He bends down, pressing a kiss to my lips as he murmurs, “You have no idea how happy that makes me, baby,” before disappearing into the bathroom.

I lie back on the pillows with a sigh. He just broke the rules—using “baby” outside the sanctioned bounds—but I find I don’t care. All I care about is getting him back in this bed with me as fast as possible so I can keep learning all the ways to make him gasp and moan and look at me with that warm, wonderful, addicted look in his eyes.

That look that makes me wonder if Vagina Fever is a thing…

And maybe it doesn’t matter if it’s your first, as long as it’s the one that’s meant for you.

It’s a dangerous thought. Derrick and I aren’t “meant” for each other. We just have natural chemistry and are highly compatible in the bedroom. Thoughts like that can get right out of town.

All thoughts can get right out of town, in fact.

Because Derrick’s back and he’s holding an entire strip of condoms in one hand. “Just in case,” he says.

I reach for him. “Oh, there’s going to be a case. There’s going to be a serious case.”

Laughing, he lets me drag him onto the bed and roll him underneath me, and together, we prove that first time wasn’t a fluke. It was just the start of something that gets better and better.

Chapter Twenty

Derrick

I get three hours of sleep—maybe four—and should be exhausted, but I’m not. I’m energized, excited about the future, and positive this job interview is going to go off without a hitch…even if they do notice the dark circles under my eyes.

“I feel terrible,” Harlow says, sipping coffee in bed as she watches me move around the room, getting dressed in my suit. “I totally forgot about your job interview. We should have gone to bed after the third time.”