Page 7 of Keeping The Virgin

I can’t.

But then he slides his hand down my face, between my breasts, and over my stomach and belly, leaving more shivers behind. When he dips his fingers into the front of my panties, I groan. My legs part for him, my hips arch as he separates my folds, then slowly strokes my pussy.

So good…oh, god…

I hear how wet I am, how excited, and I find myself doing what he wanted me to do in the first place. I look into his eyes from beneath my heavy lids.

He seems to like what he sees, because he smiles, just a lift of one sensual corner of his mouth, but it’s enough to send a shock through me.

“Shit,” he says. “You were born to be fucked, baby...”

He bites off his words, keeps stroking me, and my temperature keeps rising. I’m still looking into his eyes, unable to tear myself away.

“How close have you been to having a cock inside of you?” he asks.

I can only let out a soft sound of delight with every drenched caress, but when he slips a finger up and into me, I cry out.

“Have you ever been this close?” he asks.

Still slumped against the wall, I shake my head. I want him to start working me again, so I gyrate once, feeling his finger buried inside me.

More, please.

His smile is ravenous now. “Good. That’s good, Karini. And this will be even better.”

He adjusts my hips, lifting them so that I can see the sheer red panties I bought just for this night, the slight patch of my light brown hair under them, his fingers between my legs. The hot sight makes something brutal fan out inside of me, its edges sharp and insistent, pushing to be released.

Then he eases another finger into me, and this time when I cry out, the sound is tighter.

But the discomfort slips away as he begins to massage my clit with his other thumb, swirling his fingers, pushing in, out, sending me into an oncoming tizzy.

I grip the edge of the table with my hands, and I still can’t tear my gaze away from his as he pumps into me, out of me, so slowly and expertly that I want to scream. He circles me with his thumb, priming me until my cream is so wet and thick that it bathes my thighs.

“Fuck,” he says. “My little gift…”

Everything inside of me begins to swell, the whirring fan blades swishing faster and faster, beating, keeping up with the increasing pace of his arousing fingers. As I look into his eyes, the blue of them darkens, pulsing with my own heartbeat. Then they start to go black, the color seeping into me, pounding at me unbearably, swallowing me up little by little until, with one big rush, everything pulses and I—

Something tears me apart like blades flying off in a million directions, and I let out a sound that’s somewhere between a yes! and a more!Then…

Then my head and body start to piece themselves back together again, and I’m gasping for air, slumped on the table as Cage removes his fingers from me, then pulls up my panties and pulls down my dress.

Even in my glowingly buzzed state, his gesture surprises me, because a man who can talk that dirty to me isn’t the kind of man who cares about making anyone comfortable.

He only proves that as he steps away from me, rubbing his fingers together as if enjoying the slick feel of my wetness on his skin. Or maybe he’s only reveling in the taste he got of the gift he’s about to toss back outside.

Just when I think he’s about to turn away from me and leave me hanging, he looks back with a dark, cocky grin.

“Fuck the drive to the airport,” he says. “I’m going to take you up on that gift after all.”

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