Page 41 of Thief

“Jeez, sick bastard.”

“Well, how old are you?”

John pressed his forehead gently to hers. “Thirty, the perfect age for you to…” He paused and pulled in a deep, steadying breath.

“Perfect age for me to what?”

He touched his mouth to her lips and spoke onto her tongue. “To lose your virginity to.”

“I think it’s a bit late for that.”

“Do you want to have sex with me?” He stroked his hand over her hair and down into the centre of her back.

“Yes, I just told you that.”

“Did you want to have sex with Phil?” He spat out the name as though it were venom in his mouth. “Or any of the other losers you’ve put out for?”

“No, not at all, you know that.”

“So wipe the slate clean and have your first time with me, now.”

“But it’s hardly the first time we’ve done it.”

“It will be the first time we’ve done it honestly. At my place, you were fucking me for my car—”

“But I did enjoy it.”

His face cracked into a grin. “Glad to hear it, but it doesn’t count. You were still doing it to gain something.”

“And in the shower?”

“In the shower, I was angry. I was punishing you for stealing my life. It was a revenge fuck, not good for a first time either.”

“So it doesn’t count, even if I came?”

He shook his head. “No, your first time should be sweet and loving and be for one reason only.”

“What’s that?”

“Because you want to do it with that person more than anyone else in the world, for mutual pleasure.” He tipped his head. “Do you feel like that about me?”

Kat pushed her hand over his bristling hair and felt the raw essence of his masculinity beneath her palms. She could hear her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. “Yes,” she said pulling his head down. “Yes, I do.” A now familiar, hungry sensation quivered between her legs, a pull, a demanding desire. Only John was going to be able to satisfy it, and oh God, she wanted him to. “This will be my first time,” she murmured into his mouth. “Take my virginity, John. It’s yours to have.”

He shifted his palms under her backside and scooped her up. Like a clinging limpet, she wrapped her arms around his neck and locked her legs around his waist. She felt weightless in his big arms.

Their kisses plunged deeper. He turned and strode blindly towards the bedroom, kicked open the door and stepped inside. The curtains were un-drawn; the duvet a bundled pile in the middle of the bed, a huge assortment of clothes and shoes littered the floor along with magazines, plates and empty water bottles.

Halting by the bed, John unwound her lower limbs from his hips, sat and pulled her between his thighs. Kat watched him stretch out his bad leg, and then with her heart fluttering, she lifted up her sweater to expose her breasts encased in a white lace bra.

“Take it off,” John murmured, reaching to help it on its way.

She tugged the jumper over her head and dropped it on the floor. With dexterous fingers, he undid the tiny front clip of her bra so it sprung open.

The heavy weight of her breasts spilt into his waiting palms. “God, you have the best tits ever,” he said as he brushed his thumbs in sync across her taught nipples. Like hard bullets, they pressed forward for his touch as though they’d missed him, as though they wanted him.

Letting her breasts hang loose, he rode his palms over the gentle slopes of her waist to her low-rise jeans. His fingertips ignited a fire deep within her. His eyes were hungry and hooded, but she wondered why she was the only one stripping off. She wanted to see his body again. She wanted to flesh on flesh, to share the warmth of their skin and search out the connection she hoped she’d find. She tugged ineffectively at the front of his T-shirt, tried to pull it upwards but not quite reaching at the right angle for success. “John…I can’t…”

He bunched the material between his shoulder blades and pulled. It slid over his head and was discarded.

---