Page 14 of Forbidden Virgin

Pleasure built in her core and pounded into her bloodstream. Her moans became louder as she quivered under his body. He growled, and spilled himself into her pussy. The warm and thick semen flooded her and she loved the sensation of completion. God. It dawned on her. She loved this man and couldn’t fight it. She was screwed in a much deeper way.

* * *

“Are you okay?” he asked, and she turned her head to face him. He’d rolled on the bed and taken her with him and she reveled in after-sex bliss. What could be better than their two bodies slick with sweat, limbs lazily entangled?

She looked up at the ceiling. A moon roof. Of course. “Yes.” She kissed his chest. “I love the idea of a moon roof. Very eco-friendly.”

He caressed her hair, his fingers sliding into her tangled mess. “Thanks but I can’t take credit for it. I didn’t have it designed with that in mind.”

“Then why?” She propped herself on her elbows and watched him. He stared back at her, his eyes hooded.

“When I was a child I loved looking at the moon and stars. It reminded me they were there no matter what. They were a constant to me,” he said, his voice strained. “The dark sky at night.”

Her heart squeezed. Her father had mentioned Graham had had a tough beginning, and the charity her grandfather ran had helped get him off the streets and find him a job after he finished high school. A friendship took place between the two men and her late grandfather invested in him when he had an idea to open his first hotel in his twenties. “Did you wish for anything special when you looked at the moon?”

“For a long time I just wished it’d be there the next night,” he said, his eyes darkening to a black. Maybe then he realized what he’d said had been so deeply personal, because he cleared his throat and said in a lighter tone, “But enough about me. How do you feel now you’ve been devirginized?”

She sat on the bed, carrying a part of the sheet with her. It dawned on her he didn’t like to talk about his own issues. But knowing about it didn’t mean she’d leave it alone. “Have you ever seen your parents again?”

He ran his fingers through his hair and let out some air. “My father died of an overdose when I was twenty. And I couldn’t bring myself to forgive my mother.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Really? Because I could have insisted, you know. After I became wealthy, I paid for her rehab once but she went back to using the day after she left. Then I just didn’t try anymore even though I have access to good doctors, and I could pay a clinic out of the country if needed to get her away from her crowd of addicts. Yet I did nothing.”

“The fact you paid for her rehab after all she’d done to you shows you tried.”

“She sent me letters throughout the years, but I never opened them,” he said but even his deep baritone couldn’t hide a trace of sadness.

For the first time, she wished she could time travel to be the person holding his hand decades ago, when his parents deserted him, and to tell him everything would be okay. “Did you throw them away?”

He shook his head. “I kept them.”

“Maybe you weren’t ready to read them and one day you will be. And it won’t hurt as much.”

His lips curled at the corner of his mouth. “Do you always see the good in everything or just in me?” he asked, his tone lighter than earlier.

“I see a lot in you. I’ve been seeing it since I was sixteen,” she said. “I remember my grandma had once said touching yourself is a sin. So I avoided doing it even though my body sometimes asked for it,” she said, and wrestled the urge to look away. She hadn’t come this far—geographically and sexually—to play pretend now. With Graham she could finally be herself. Why change? “Remember my seventeenth birthday party at the beach? I tried to kiss you and you wouldn’t let me. I understood why, but I wondered if you wanted it, too. That night I touched myself for the first time without guilt.” Thinking of you.

He touched his throat, as if he wanted to reach an invisible lump. A spark flickered in his eyes, and he shook his head more to himself than to her. “Masturbating isn’t a sin. You know that, right?”

It had never been a sin. “Yes. My family means well. They have big hearts and love to help others, but they have very strict rules about everything,” she said. At times she really wondered how happy her mother was in the middle of all those rules. Did she submit to them or resent them deep down? I won’t ever have the same problem.

“Have you chosen to study abroad to get away from your family?” he asked.

“I want to have my own career, make my own money and live by my own rules.” One of the reasons why she’d refused to be a part of the family’s investing business and instead chose a field where she had no ties to her father. Only to Graham, a snarky voice inside her remembered.

He traced her jaw with his index finger and a delicious shiver rolled down her spine. “I have to say I like your rules. Or lack thereof.” He shoved her sheet to the side and stretched out his hand. “Come on.”

She slid out of the bed and hoped he didn’t want to take her back to the hotel already. “Where are we going?”

He gave her a sexy smile. “To the outdoor hot tub.”

* * *

Graham intertwinedhis hand in hers and led her to the stone patio. When she’d told him how uncomfortable her family made her, he decided sex would be the safe way to change the subject—and keep the intruding thoughts out of his mind.

When she’d told him she touched herself after the bonfire, he almost told her he’d felt a strange sensation then.

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