Page 30 of The Love Playbook

“I’m glad. I wanted your first time to be good.”

“It was …” He shakes his head gently before raising it and opening his eyes again. “It was amazing.You’reamazing. Thank you.”

He straightens, his big hand landing on my shoulder, then sliding behind my neck before pulling me in for a kiss.

I expect just a peck—he did just come in my mouth, after all, and not everyone’s cool with kissing after that—but he opens, his tongue sliding past my parted lips, kissing me deeply.

My fingers wrap around his forearm, enjoying the hard muscles beneath his warm skin.

He’s such a collection of contradictions—soft and hard, reserved and confident by turns, shy until he’s comfortable enough to relax and show himself. And while he’s inexperienced, he catches on quick.

His hands start roaming, sliding down my chest, fondling my nipples again. “What about you?” he whispers against my lips, one nipple caught between his index and middle fingers, and he squeezes it almost, but not quite, to the point of pain. Just like when he was biting me earlier.

I gasp into his mouth. “What about me?”

“Don’t you want to finish?” he asks, pulling back just enough to look into my eyes.

I do. I really, really do. I’m so turned on right now that my lacy panties are soaked, and I don’t think it would take much time or effort to get me off.

The question is, would he be able to do it?

Maybe.

Or maybe I just do it myself while he watches …

“Autumn?”

I’ve apparently taken too long to answer.

“Yes.” I swallow, somehow nervous, which seems ridiculous. “Yes, I want to finish.”

His hand slides down to my waist, tracing the waistband of my shorts. “Tell me what to do.”

Oh god. I had no idea how hot that would be in reality.

I mean, I’ve fantasized about it quite a bit since I first pitched the idea of Jackson letting me teach him. What it would be like to be with a virgin. He’s my first virgin. Does that make me a virgin virgin?

I bite my lip to hold back my giggle, because Jackson would definitely misinterpret it since he’s not privy to my ridiculous, lust-addled thoughts.

But no amount of fantasizing about teaching a virgin how to pleasure me—whether that was a fantasy version of Jackson or a nameless, faceless guy—compares to the reality of having him touching me and asking me to tell him what to do.

I undo my own shorts and lift my hips to remove them.

He tuts. “Let me.” His voice is a soft admonishment, and I relent, moving my hands away and letting him tug my shorts and panties down my hips and off my legs.

Sitting next to me, he looks me over, one hand idly stroking the space between my rib cage and hip.

“Have you ever seen a naked woman before?”

He shakes his head slowly, his eyes never leaving my body. “Not in real life.” One shoulder moves in a stiff shrug, red tinging his cheeks and ears. “I mean, I’ve seen porn, so I’ve seen naked women there.” His eyes flick up to mine and away again. “You know I’ve never done more than kiss one other girl, though.”

“Doesn’t mean you couldn’t have gone to a strip club or something at some point.”

Another blush. “No. I’ve never done that.”

Of course he hasn’t. A sweet guy like Jackson? I can see him avoiding that kind of place. I’m honestly a little surprised not only that he’s watched porn but that he’s admitted it to me.

I move so I’m lying flat on the bed, bringing my hand to his thigh and stroking him as well. “Feel free to look as long as you want.”

---