Page 40 of Auctioned for Her Blood
And then, as if feeling neglected, my tongue flicks out to better taste him, and he groans, more like a growl, while his hard body grinds against mine. His thick, hard tongue plunges inside my mouth, stroking the side of my tongue, darting everywhere, tasting me, and it seems as if my tongue knows what to do too, our tongues easily playing together and waking even more parts of me, until my body’s fully on fire.
Wantonly, I pulse against him as his hands reach under my sheer jacket to explore, their large size spanning every inch of my back, and then shifting lower to cup my ass and pull me even more firmly against his hard body.
Somehow my dress is now gathered up near my waist, and his hand slides over the backs of my bare thighs and then their fronts.
Shuddering, I can barely breathe through our kisses as his hand moves to rest over my belly and then circles downward toward my hot core.
I pull back. “Ryker.”
“Fuck. Shit.” He staggers back.
I almost fall, but his strong hand takes hold of my waist.
“Too fast.” He shakes his head. “I got carried away.”
“It’s okay.” Taking his hand, I stroke his palm with my thumb, marveling how even that part of him feels impossibly thick and strong. I never thought I’d find fingers so sexy. “It’s just. I don’t know…”
“Don’t know what, luv?”
I look down. “I don’t know what I’m doing…”
“Oh.” He steps back from me. “You’ve changed your mind.” The resignation and disappointment in his voice are obvious. “I understand.”
I shake my head. “No, that’s not what I mean. I mean, Idowant…this. I do want…you.”
His eyes darken, his pupils expanding as his eyes pierce me, like he can see directly inside me. But he doesn’t move closer. He’s waiting for a signal that I’m not sure how to send.
My mouth dries as nerves overtake me. Part of me wants him to know that it’s my first time and part of me doesn’t. According to things I’ve read, some men don’t like the hassle of dealing with virgins, and I feel ridiculous that I’ve reached this age with so little experience.
“What is it, luv?”
I look down. I’m ruining this, and the only thing worse than passing up this chance to have sex, sex with Ryker, is that I might disappoint him.
His bent finger urges up my chin and I open my eyes to look into his.
“You’re a virgin,” he says softly.
“No, I—” I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, and then nod.
“Oh, my innocent little dove.” His fingers stroke my face and he peppers my forehead with kisses.
Disappointment washes through me. He’s kissing me like a kid now, but then his hands drop to my shoulders and he pushes off my sheer jacket, sending opposite signals.
Looking up into his eyes, I wriggle out of the garment and let it drop to the floor, and then his lips shift to my throat.
He lingers there, close, breathing heavily as his teeth scrape over my skin, and then he shifts his lips’ focus to my shoulder, to my collarbone.
The zipper of my dress slides down my back, his fingers grazing the bare skin at its side, lighting it on fire, and I suck in a shuddering breath.
“Do you want me to make love to you, little dove?” He looks into my eyes, with heat and concern.
I nod, not sure I like his new nickname for me. My mouth is so dry now, my mind so muddled, I don’t even try to form words.
“Let me take care of you,” he says softly. “Let me teach you about pleasure.” His hands glide over my skin, almost gracefully, tracing from my neck to my collarbone and then back, over and over, as he presses soft kisses onto my cheeks, my forehead, my eyelids.
“Will you grant me that honor?” he asks, his mouth pressing against my ear. “The honor of giving you pleasure? Of teaching you the ways of physical love?”
“Yes.” The word escapes my lips like a wheezing exhale, and then he captures my lips again, kissing me with renewed fervor, kissing me in a way I can feel through my entire body, but especially between my legs. The dampness and ache there is growing, and my insides pulse, tightening and releasing over and over like my sex is crying out for more—for him.
