“This is your cherry.”
She knew what his hesitation meant. Fun was over—but did it have to be? “Why are you stopping? I’m on the pill. If you’re safe we can do this.”
“I am safe. But when I take you, it won’t be in a hotel room with people working outside. I want to make it special for you.”
Her heart melted into wine, and it must have showed because he flashed her an impossibly sexy and crooked smile. He touched her clit again, and it didn’t take long to get her going, waves of hot pleasure forming inside her. She reached for his cock and stroked him again, wanting to give him as good as she was getting.
He made a quick, circular pattern on her bundle with his finger, then tapped it, his other hand scissoring her folds. God. She came again, and squeezed his cock, intensified the rhythm on his dick as she quivered and entered a sexual bliss she never thought could be possible.
“I’m coming on your tits,” he said. “Stay still.”
He splashed his release on her chest, while he threw his head back and let out a groan that resonated inside her. Within seconds, his cum coated her breasts and nipples, and she slid her finger to get a taste. “Yum.”
When he finished, he fell on the sofa next to her.
She closed her eyes, trying to make sense of what just happened. One step closer to her goal of losing her virginity to him—he’d said when I pop your cherry and not if. Maybe he’d come to his senses and could no longer fight this attraction between them. She knew she couldn’t—then again, it wasn’t like she tried.
The sofa shifted a bit, and she saw him striding to the bathroom. From a housekeeping point of view, they’d been smart to have sex on the sofa—which meant no changing sheets or making the bed again before the VIP guests arrived. When she heard the sound of running water, she made a mental note of items in need of refreshing: the sink would need to be dried, new hand towel for sure, and a brand new soap. Oh, she’d have to check the trash too. Maybe starting from the bottom is working. I’m already overanalyzing everything.
Gosh. When he returned, still gloriously naked, she sighed. His muscles shifted and bunched when he walked, and her lips parted. Or maybe her jaw dropped, impossible to know for sure. Graham Davenport was a fucking gorgeous male specimen.
He carried a sheepish smile on his face, so unlike his usual confident grin, and held a damp towel on his hand. Rather than handing it to her, he wiped his sperm from her breasts, and the fact he’d thought about it quickened her pulse.
“I’m going out of town tonight to check on other properties in Oahu and Kauai for a few days,” he said, cleaning the remainder of his load off her. She kept watching him and tried not to move. “I come back the day of the Preston ball.”
“And?”
He winked at her. “Be ready.”
She bit back a smile. Ready is not the problem . . .