Page 25 of Teach Me
“Conlan.” The word was more moan than language. This was going so fast, flying by, and she wanted to slow down and savor him but she couldn’t. She needed him now.
Conlan understood. He stepped forward, pushing her before him until her back met the steam-warmed wall. Taking her mouth with a desperate kiss, he brought her hand to his rock-hard shaft.
“Touch me,” he demanded against her mouth.
The feel of him was at once shocking and, somehow, familiar. Desperate to please him, she copied the way he’d touched her, kneading and molding, moving up the length of his erection to explore the tip with the pads of her fingers. His hips shifted forward, pushing him harder against her hand. His breath blew hot between her lips, but it was the intensity of his eyes as he stared into hers that spoke his pleasure the loudest. That look filled her heart to overflowing.
She slid her fingers down, tracing the vein that ran along the underside of his shaft. Cupping his sensitive sac, she rolled it in her palm. His head dropped to the side until it met her shoulder, and she could hear him gritting his teeth.
“Yes,” he bit out.
Oh, she liked this. She liked holding him, having all that power and masculine drive in the palm of her hand. She continued to rub, to entice, barely noticing when his teeth lightly gripped her neck and he sucked. One hand gripped her thigh. He lifted her leg to prop her foot on a nearby shelf, knocking off a bottle of shampoo, but neither of them paid attention. What she did notice was the feel of his fingers as he sifted through the curls covering her mound.
This was it. Conlan was going to take her. She tried to relax, to focus on the feel of him, hard and dominant, in her hand rather than the nerves tightening her muscles. She didn’t need tighter; his heavy length was intimidating enough as it was.
A whisper of cooler air washed across her heated core as Conlan separated her tender folds. She didn’t know if she’d ever get used to that feeling, or the next one: a single finger rolling up and around her throbbing clit. Jess dug her fingers into the muscles of his back, unable to control the need to beg. “Con—please. Please, I need you.”
He circled, teasing her flesh, setting a rhythm she met with small pulses of her pelvis. She could feel her body weeping, cream dripping down her thigh, and knew she was as ready as she’d ever get. When he pushed back to rim her sensitive opening, she met him with a hard thrust, on the verge of exploding.
“So good, Jess. You feel so good,” he said against her breast. He slid not one but two fingertips inside, just barely, just enough for her to feel them.
She needed more. Pushing onto his fingers, she tried to impale herself, but Conlan drew back. Forward, retreat. Again and again until she thought she’d scream.
“Now, damn it!” She was frantic, needing it, needing him inside her. She didn’t care if it hurt. She had to have him.
And then she felt it. His fingers advancing into her, deep, deep, deep, until he hit the barrier that she’d give anything for him to breach.
He stopped.
“Jess?”
Chapter Eleven
Her name escaped, resonating on a pitch of confusion. Unable to believe what he knew was absolutely true, he slid the tips of his fingers against the thin veil of flesh high inside Jess’s passage. She flinched, but his palm grazing her clit had her eyelids sliding gracefully closed. She was so fucking beautiful in her need. And so very new to it. Her hymen screamed that news in his head, the news that, when he took her, Jess would be his alone. Deep down, where all those feelings men denied actually existed, a primitive roar echoed through his soul, a masculine triumph so fierce it shook the foundation of the man he’d thought he was. The violent need to take the gift she offered—and do it as fast as possible—surged inside him.
And turned his hunger to ash. Because taking her now wouldn’t be a one- or even two-night stand. No, taking her now would mean forever.
When he didn’t move again, Jess dragged her eyes open, the effort it required obvious in her scrunched brow. “Conlan?”
“You’re a virgin.” The words barely escaped over his tangled tongue.
His fingers twitched inside her, and Jess nudged her hips forward, pressing down on his palm. “Yes…”
Conlan didn’t think, didn’t stop to consider. He had pulled his hand back and was across the length of the shower before he’d blinked again. Water splashed in his eyes as he retreated from the one thing he knew he couldn’t overlook.
Jess didn’t follow him. She moaned, curving down around the hand pressing hard against her lower belly. She stayed like that for long minutes as Conlan battled for control—of his body, his emotions, the driving instinct to protect and comfort the woman huddled against his shower wall. Any idea he’d had about that disappeared when Jess straightened, her blazing eyes meeting his like a lightning flash.
“What. The hell. Is wrong now?”
If it wasn’t for the sick churning in the pit of his stomach, he might’ve laughed. She was all hellcat now, spitting fire, venom dripping from every syllable. The sight hardened his cock despite his command to fuckingstand down.
Jess ran a hand over her wet hair. The move lifted her breast too, aiming a taut pink nipple in his direction. His brief curse made her flinch.
“Conlan—”
“You’re a virgin. Why didn’t you tell me you were a virgin?”
“Because I didn’t think it mattered.” Her tone tacked adumb-asson to the end of that sentence.
