Page 6 of Keeping The Virgin

Cage halts on the other side of me, and I can sense something tense and predatory about him. As the lining of my belly trembles, I finally break down and bring my gaze up to meet his.

I suck in a harsh breath at the look in his eyes—a spark of something dark and exciting that my backtalk has kindled in him, something frustrated, something crazy that tells me that, in spite of everything he said at the door, he wants me to keep this game going.

Whatever it is feels like it’s threatening to flare into a fire. I can already feel the heat scorching me from the inside out, ready to burst.

Slowly, he moves to a marble table, and when he puts down my phone, he does it with such deliberation that I tense up.

He lazily pulls the towel from around his neck and sets that down next to the phone. The full sight of his torso—chiseled and smooth and beautiful—drills me with more lust.

“On second thought,” he says, “I’m not so sure I want to let you off that easily.”

What does thatmean?

But I think I know and, god, despite everything, I hope I’m right. I want him to be the one who makes me cross that line from virgin to experienced woman. I want to feel every one of his muscles under my palms, exploring what a man really is. I want him inside of me, even though I’m afraid it might hurt this first time.

But a man of the world like this will know how to make me feel pleasure…

Then I remember how he treated me at his doorway, and my guard goes up, even as everything else in me melts for him to touch me.

But he doesn’t. Not yet. He merely prowls toward me again, his muscles rolling under his tanned skin with every cocky step. As he slips behind me, I don’t turn to face him. Even so, I know he’s standing right in back of me now.

My throat works as I gulp. The sound seems to fill the room along with my heavy breathing.

“Will you be honest about something with me?” he says.

I quake at his nearness and close my eyes, still trying to resist. “What?”

I expect to hear the rest of his question but, instead, I gasp as I feel him gently lifting the sides of my skirt. My pussy gushes at the slow sensation of the light fabric sliding up my thighs, then my hips.

He speaks as if nothing is happening. “Why did you wait so long to give it up, Karini?” he asks.

In this piercingly erotic moment, I could tell him that I wasn’t ready for sex, that there was always something indefinable missing, even though I’d been intimately touched before. But as Cage hooks his thumbs under the sides of my panties, I’m speechless. And when he pulls up on the fabric so that a sweet pressure nestles against my pussy, I bite back a moan.

He releases the pressure, then pulls at my panties again, teasing me, moving them back and forth so that he’s teasing my most sensitive spot. Instinctively, I grip his hands, both urging him on and bracing myself. My legs lose strength, and I fall back against his hard chest, moving every time he wickedly plays with me.

“Maybe,” he says in a ragged voice that rumbles through him and into me, “I like virgins more than I thought.”

As he gives a stronger pull on my panties, I begin to cry out, but before there’s any sound, he reaches around and buries one hand in my hair, bringing my mouth to his in a ravishing crush.

My world ignites—sparks of every color, my skin sizzling, my body torched by a desire I never thought I’d feel. But I do.

God, I feel.

With something like a ravenous growl, he deepens the kiss, tightening his fingers in my hair, going at me with an intense greed that makes me feel as if he’s never tasted anything like me before, as if I’m an instant addiction. I grapple at him, out of control, slippery between my legs and aching for him to play with me some more.

My passion seems to push him to his raw limits as he lets out a feral sound, scoops me up, and lifts me, taking me somewhere until I feel something cool and smooth underneath my bottom.

I hear something crash to the floor, and it’s only when I think it might be my phone that I realize I’m on a table, slouched against the wall and panting for him.

Hungrily he nips at my bottom lip, and I wince, but not because of pain—purely from pleasure and need. And he seems to know that because he sucks off of me, leaving me breathing even harder.

I feel like I’m strung together by a chain of heartbeats, and most of them are palpitating between my legs, begging, pleading.

As he watches me, his blue eyes seem to see everything inside of me—how much I want him, how much I want this—and I have to look away from him before he sees too much.

Secrets and all.

“Look at me,” he commands in a whisper.

---