The Virgin Rule Book (Rules of Love 1) Lauren Blakely (fastest ebook reader .TXT) 📖

a few seconds later, her hands still, and she whispers, “Hey.”

At the sound of her alarm, I instantly look up, searching her face.

“I love second base,” she whispers, not actually alarmed at all, but encouraging, it turns out, as she says, “but I kinda wanna get to home plate.”

I grin, then laugh, shaking my head. “What’s wrong with me? Getting all stalled out on second, when it’s clearly time to score.” I clear my throat and lecture sternly, “For the record, though, the rule book dictates that I get to return to second base and spend all night here. There’s so much I want to do to these beautiful tits.”

“And so much I want you to do with your . . . baseball bat?” she asks as she cups my hard-on.

“Dick, shaft, cock.” I cover her hand with mine, pressing hers more firmly against my erection.

Ah, yes. Fucking yes. That feels so good.

With a mischievous grin, she mutters, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

I sigh happily, at her words, her deeds, her palm stroking my dick through my jeans. She’s where I want her to be.

Well, I do want to move us horizontal.

Gently removing her hand, I bend to take off my socks, because no woman should see a man in only his lucky socks—that’s how they become unlucky.

Next go the jeans, and soon she’s shoving off my boxer briefs and my dick is greeting her with a hello and a Let’s get intimately acquainted right this second.

Her breath rushes out sharply, and she goes still, standing in front of me with her hands at her sides.

“You okay, sweetheart?” I ask, worried at how awkward she suddenly seems.

She presses her lips together then takes an audible breath. “It just hit me. I don’t know what to do next.”

Her voice is small, but not shy, not nervous. It’s an admission and a request for guidance.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” I whisper. All I want is to be her guide.

But then, as I lead her to the bed, gently laying her on it, I know that’s a lie. I want to be more.

More than her friend.

More than a fuck buddy.

I want to be her man.

Why the hell did I have to be in self-prescribed time-out when I reconnected with the woman of my dreams?

Because I’m pretty sure that’s what Nadia Harlowe is.

Bold and beautiful, open and vulnerable, spread out on her red bedcover and waiting for me to make love to her for the first time.

As I crawl over her, reaching for a condom, I stop, cup her cheek, and ask, “You still sure?”

Her brown eyes are so deep, so beautiful as she locks them with mine. In those irises I see trust, certainty, maybe even . . . years.

“I think I’ve been ready for this for a while,” she whispers, reaching for me, curling her hands lightly over my shoulders. “With you,” she adds, and my dumb heart trips over itself, racing to get closer to her.

That’s what I want.

To be close to her.

Maybe it’s what I’ve always wanted. Maybe this wish has been knocking around in the back of my mind for a long time.

Only now, she’s front and center.

I’m not sure she can stay there, but that’s where I want her. For tonight and beyond.

I drop a soft kiss onto her lips, whispering, “That’s why I want it to be good for you. Because this is so much more than sex.”

She trembles all over, and it’s a beautiful sight.

Even more beautiful is the way the happiness spreads to her eyes.

A happiness that says we’re in this together.

The question isn’t are we ready to screw, but are we ready to stay together?

25

Nadia

Goodbye, virginity. Hello, better-than-my-rabbit action.

At least, I’m pretty sure the real thing will be better than silicone. Though, in defense of that plastic material, sex toy manufacturers can mold some seriously lifelike schlongs.

Girth-wise, my rabbit isn’t that far off from this man, or his length either. Which means, yes, Crosby could be a cock model.

The thought brings a smile to my face.

But the smile disappears when he moves closer, settling between my legs, making it all much more real. I swallow roughly. “What do you want me to do?” My voice pitches up, threaded with nerves once again.

“Just relax, sweetheart. I’ll go slow. It’ll probably hurt for a bit. But I’ll stop anytime you want, okay?”

I nod a few times, my hands curving over his shoulders. “Okay.” I gulp, taking a breath. “Leave my hands here?”

“That’s perfect. You can put your hands anywhere, but shoulders work,” he says, then he settles between my legs, rubs the head of his cock against me, and I jump.

But it’s a good jump.

A pleasure jump.

My pulse spikes, and my heart skips a beat at the intoxicating feel of his dick on me—of hardness against wetness.

Breathing in purposefully, deeply, I let the air fill my lungs, my whole body. And I imagine relaxation flooding me.

My legs fall open wide as he continues rubbing the head against me. I stare down at us, mesmerized, utterly mesmerized, by the erotic sight—his big hand curled around the base of his cock, the slow and sensual way he rubs the crown through my wet folds, then how he presses it against my clit.

A blast of pleasure smashes into me, and I curl my hands tighter around his strong shoulders, digging into his muscles, his flesh.

“Feels so good,” I murmur.

A smile curves his lips. “You fucking bet it does.”

His eyes darken, arousal coming over them, but passion too—passion for me.

I feel it.

I sense it.

This is not just sex.

We’re not just fucking.

We’re connecting.

Anticipation ignites a fresh rush of tingles down my spine. Pleasure rolls through me as he pushes in.

My thighs clamp, tightening for a second, gripping his hips. Then I laugh, letting go. “Hi.”

“Hey,” he says, bracing himself on his palms. “You good?”

“So good,” I whisper as I hook one leg over the back of his thigh, tugging him a little closer, a little deeper.

He sinks in another inch, and I