by Mel Blue
He brushed his mouth along hers. They both sighed. It was a sound of longing and satisfaction. He clasped the nape of her neck as though to get a good hold for what he was about to do next. Before she could let that worry her, he sucked softly at her bottom lip. The gentle tease felt like a punch. Her stomach and her heart jolted. She didn’t even know his name, and he was inciting a reaction she’d never experienced before. Take me.
As though he heard that private thought, he tilted her head and kissed her fully. She moaned as the heated tingle rushed from her lips and through her body. Her nipples grew taut. Her panties dampened. Just from a kiss. He shifted again; the hard length of his dick prodded her stomach.
She balled her hands, craving more but not sure how to demand it. Her head was spinning too much. Amelia considered pulling away, but he flicked his tongue at the seam of her mouth. She tasted him, tasted the wine, but he was the one drinking her in.
Heat burned in her chest, and all she wanted to do was touch the ache his mouth had spurred. What the hell did he mean he couldn’t seduce women? She felt ready to strip right there, drag him to the floor, and teach him all the ways to make her come. That need was fierce and hungry, and this slow undertaking only built it until her every muscle felt brittle.
His hold on her neck turned into a grip, and a groan rumbled through his chest. He licked into her mouth, languid, hot. All she could imagine, damn near feel, was the way his dick would plunge inside her. Slowly filling her until that pleasure made her pussy squeeze him, send them both right over the edge of oblivion. His next groan was deeper and vibrated through her.
He pulled back, his teeth closed gently on her top lip before he let it go. His breath was as unsteady as hers.
“Any pointers?” he asked
She licked her top lip, maybe just to taste him again. Her mouth was sensitive and swollen. Her sex ached, and he hadn’t loosened his hold yet. Maybe he was lying about needing help, but if he could do that with his mouth… “No. None so far.”
His eyes lit with laughter. “Kissing isn’t my problem.”
Nope. It definitely wasn’t. “Then what is?”
He brought his mouth back to hers and wiped out the need for an answer. He ground against her stomach, which only deepened the ache. Problem? What problem?
This time when he straightened, he let his mouth hover above hers. He sighed as color ran high in his cheeks. “I’m a virgin.”
CHAPTER THREE
Dwayne Blackstone had to give the woman credit. When he had confessed why he was there, her breath caught, but when he inspected her face, she showed no outward sign of shock. She just took his hand and told him they were going to a hotel room to see something he might find useful.
His reservations took root again when he stepped into room 306. Not a room, a theater. He almost muttered, Fuck this, turned on his heel, and waltzed out of the hotel without a backward glance.
The Beuadelaire was legendary. There were the guests who came to NOLO during Mardi Gras and any other time during high season. And the other guests who came when the hotel turned into The Den of Sin—a no-holds-barred sex fest. The Beaudelaire, when it became The Den, made your fantasies come true, by invite only. After a hefty deposit, of course. This was followed by a shitload of medical papers proving you weren’t riddled with disease.
Still, none of that had prepared him for this. He’d expected nothing but hotel rooms, not a 1930s-style theater draped in red and gold, large enough to seat fifty. He could imagine burlesque dancers taking center stage. Right now, a lone Victorian couch and something like a dresser filled the empty stage. Some of his tension leaked out when he saw no one else.
He glanced down at his companion’s profile. She still looked flushed but composed. She had a pert nose, shoulder-length hair, and her breasts were pert, too. Her dark-skin tone only highlighted her almond-shaped eyes. Even though she wore a tight black dress, she looked efficient, soft, and lush. Lust pooled in his stomach, tightening his groin again.
He didn’t know her first name. He faltered as Fuck this chanted in his head again, but he’d accepted The Den of Sin’s invitation for a specific reason. And he’d was willing to believe, to hope he’d found his fantasy with her.
When her sharp gaze reached his, she smiled. It completely transformed her. She looked sultry, mischievous, and a number of other things that made him hyper-aware of everything about her. Hell, it’s why he’d noticed her the moment she’d stepped into the ballroom.
He told himself to relax. That this wouldn’t end with him being embarrassed. He’d always been a quick study. He could adapt to any situation. A part of his training, yes, and why he was alive. Fucking go with it.
“Washington’s your last name. What’s your first name?”
“Amelia.” She straightened her shoulders.
He’d noticed the tick before. Now he understood she used it whenever she felt unsure. She offered him her delicate hand. Soft, warm, and more importantly, dry. She wasn’t nervous. His handshake was firm as usual, but his palm was damp, which said a lot about how crazy this whole situation was.
“I’m Dwayne,” he said.
How damn ridiculous they were being so formal, given what they were about to do with each other, what they’d already done. He had to laugh. It couldn’t be helped. Her professional exterior faltered. She bit her bottom lip. Full, tempting, and made him want to taste it again.
“I know.” She glanced down, her cheeks suddenly turning rosy. “I get uber-professional when I’m nervous.” She swallowed, her gaze sweeping over him, and this time he could see the desire building again.
He gestured to one of the seats. There were no arm rests, so when she settled next to him, their bodies had less than an inch of space between them.
“Why would you be nervous?” he asked.
She glanced away from him. “It’s tough to go out on a date. I’m usually thinking about all the things the man is doing wrong and how I could help him.”
He relaxed against the chair. He liked the sound of her feminine voice. She talked with a straightforwardness that added another layer to her tone.
“But…?”
“You’re not a date or a client, and I’m going to…” She clamped her mouth shut and rolled her hand.
He had an inkling this woman didn’t flounder often. He found that appealing, especially when he was sure he’d be the one in the vulnerable position, always.
He said, “I think it’s safe to say, this is an extreme circumstance for both of us.”
She shifted and one side of her dress rose above her knee. He balled his hand against the urge to touch her. Terms were needed. She may be nervous now, but she’d hold all the cards before all was said and done.
She pursed her lips for a moment. “Okay, but how are you still a virgin?”
His face heated. “Despite popular belief, not every man feels the need to fuck anything with a pulse. It’s actually quite easy to go without sex.”
“True,” she said and looked abashed. “But I remember being sixteen.”
Since there was no judgment in her voice, only curiosity, he answered her question. “My parents were archeologists. I was born in America, but we moved around a lot. When I turned fourteen, we settled in Egypt. My girlfriend’s father worked with my parents. They were Muslim.”
She perked up. “Ah. That’s explains your accent. Do you speak Arabic?”
“I’m fluent in Arabic and French.” He gave her a second to reply. She waved him on. “Anyway, they were great people. Very religious. They let us entertain a relationship, because we were always on site. No way to get into trouble. It was innocent. But the older we became, the more interest we had…in something physical.” He flashed a smile. “Then we were downright horny.”
She snorted. “As teenagers tend to be.”
“Exactly.” He shrugged. “She wanted to wait until marriage. She was important to me, so I wanted the same. Things were complicated, because she wanted to m
arry someone with her same beliefs. I loved her. I’d wait until marriage, but even though I’m a Protestant in the loosest terms possible, I wasn’t willing to convert.”
She still didn’t look convinced. “So you broke up?”
He nodded. “At seventeen, I started to fly planes. We tended to be in the middle of fucking nowhere so supplies had to be flown in. I bugged whoever dropped by, then one our regulars took pity—Charlie—and showed me the ropes.”
Understanding filled her gaze. “You turned eighteen, started flying and isolated yourself.”
He started to disagree and couldn’t. It wasn’t a conscious decision. He’d been heartbroken, felt rejected at the very core. He’d lost himself in the sky, in rescue missions, and he built up his hours until he became somewhat a legend in his circle. He did that for two years straight. Ate, slept, then back to the sky.
He blinked at the sudden realization this was an interview. Something she probably did with her job all the time. He could see why she was good at it. She asked questions in a way that made him share aspects of himself he usually didn’t.
“In part,” he said, “I did cut myself off. At the same time, the longer I was a virgin, the harder it was to try and explain why I hadn’t found the first willing woman.”
She nodded. “You waited with your girlfriend because it was important to you. Of course, men aren’t supposed to feel that way.”
Damn. Hit the nail on the head. “I dated when I could, but my work got in the way and things never…progressed.”
She waved at the room. “Why are you here, then?”
His uncertainty was so fleeting, he barely felt the emotion. Dwayne shook out of his suit jacket and rolled up his left shirt sleeve. Healed-over burns etched the skin from his forearm to his elbow. Her guarded expression softened.
He pulled the sleeve back down. “My life flashed before my eyes as the plane was going down.” He paused and wanted to lighten the mood. “And I was going to die a virgin. Son of a bitch.” He smiled at her laugh. “I had some downtime to think while in the hospital. Sometimes I’d get these rich guys who wanted the real Outback experience—”
Her eyes widened. “You left Egypt?”
“Only way to see the world.” See it, not live it. He kept that to himself.
“I’m sure those clients bragged about the Den. Some of mine did.” Her lips pulled down into a frown. “So this will be more than you just losing your virginity. You need the whole gamut. Or do you?” She looked embarrassed again and added, “The best way to learn how to please a woman is to watch her please herself.”
His gaze whipped to the stage, seeing it in a new light. The couch suddenly made sense. Then, slowly, the dresser. It was probably full of sexual paraphernalia. Heat slid down his spine. He wiped his mouth, because it felt dry. He wasn’t a prude, but how many sexually active adults witnessed a woman masturbating or having sex in a public place? This entire situation was too extreme. They still needed rules of engagement and boundaries.
He said, “The next few days I’ll be the student, and you’ll be the teacher. What’s off-limits?”
“Group sex. I’m not that kinky.” She blushed.
It felt right, so he touched her cheek to caress the hot flesh. “You’ll be learning just as much about me.”
“But in the end, you’ll know what you like.”
“I did some research. It’s part of who I am. ” He trailed his finger down to the pulse in her neck. Her breath hitched. He wanted to take her now.
“Research?” She smiled.
“If you don’t know a technique, or you suspect you’re going to be flying blind, you research. So, I—” he broke off to laugh at himself. “I watched some videos, but not the kind where the women have big fake tits and a shitton of makeup. And I read up on some other…things. So I can say I get the gist of the mechanics but no applicable training.” He dropped his hand from her warm, smooth skin and offered it to her. “Do we have a deal? You teach me.”
“Saying it’ll be a crash course in seduction feels ironic somehow.”
As he was about to laugh, a woman walked out on the stage. She wore a beautiful robe that looked like a kimono. A mask covered her face, and brunette curls cascaded down her back. She relaxed on the couch and made no quips about shedding the robe before spreading out on the furniture. Her pale skin looked luminous under the stage lights.
Amelia nodded. “We agree, then.”
His heartbeat pounded in his ears. The woman had laid back, legs closed, for now. He sucked in a steadying breath. Her breasts and hips had a delicious heft and made his brain short circuit. Amelia shifted beside him. Her eyes were bright, and she looked just as aroused as he felt.
He whispered, “Do you like women, too?”
She shook her head, a bit adamant. “It’s just titillating.” She glanced at him. “I feel like a voyeur.”
The woman on the stage trailed her fingers over her nipples. Even from where they sat, he could see how they beaded from the way she rolled them beneath her fingertips.
“Interesting,” he murmured.
He glanced down. Amelia’s dress was molded to her. Again, he watched what the woman on stage was doing, detailing when her back arched, the slight lift of her hips, the change in the way she breathed. His former apprehension vanished. He could take this all in for hours. Wouldn’t change a damn thing.
Amelia’s hands were locked together on her lap. Should he take that as a sign of discomfort and not do what he wanted? Should he wait for clues? His lips stretched with a self-deprecating smirk. These questions may be why he was still a damn virgin.
Dwayne pushed aside his reservations and touched Amelia’s collarbone. He waited until she exhaled before letting his fingers explore her breast. He frowned when his finger caught on her…bra. Cushion or padding kept him from feeling all of her. He cupped her breast and tightened his hold a fraction. Arousal flashed through him. That emotion fought with surprise. Her breast was firmer than what he’d imagined. He never felt more like a virgin in his life.
He snatched his hand away. Amelia licked her lips, tugged on something beneath her dress, and then glanced at him with an expectant expression. He took her breast again, except this time as he closed his hand, her nipple rasped against his palm. He lingered for a second to take in the image of his hand on her breast, the way her breath tickled his neck as he moved closer.
He circled the taut bud, not letting himself touch the tip yet. “Am I doing it right?” His heart raced as he looked into her eyes.
Her lids were low. “Yes.”
He touched the nipple, curious and needing to touch the hard point. She moaned. He dropped his hand to his lap and balled it into a fist.
“Why’d you stop?” she asked. “It was feeling good.”
He shifted his cock to hide the tent, and a look of understanding dawned in her expression. Fuck this. But he’d paid money to stay at this hotel. He’d already faced the hard part of telling her he was a virgin. What more did he need?
Her nipple strained against her dress. He stole a glance at the stage before he took possession of the soft, round globe again. He lightly pinched her nipple through the fabric. Amelia responded by kissing his neck and closing her hand over his to show him how she liked to be touched. And, apparently, he really liked to have his neck kissed. He groaned. This was making him hard as fuck. He had to know what her breasts felt like bare. The pull in his stomach intensified. He didn’t know what the fuck he was doing, but he wanted to drag her to the floor and plunge inside her.
Amelia’s soft moans against his skin sounded louder, hit him harder than the masked woman’s on the stage. His gaze drew to the front for more. Her pale legs were spread wide. Her skin had a faint tinge of red. He watched intently as she played with her clit. Her pussy glistened from being so wet.
Dwayne rested his forehead on Amelia’s. “Stop touching me,” he said without thinking. There was no way he wouldn’t come if she so much as brushed a
gainst him.
She shifted, this time pulling up her dress. “Show me what you’ve just learned.”
He checked out the theater to see if they were still alone. A couple sat in the back of the room. The man looked familiar, and there was something about the way the woman sat up straight in her chair that tweaked his memory. She wore what looked like a butterfly mask decorated with gems. Her entire focus was on her companion until the man rose and disappeared behind the seats. The woman reached down, likely grasping the man’s head or shoulders. Oh. Heat slammed into his face, feeling like he’d caught that couple’s private moment.
He turned back to Amelia. This was theirs. She had bared her long legs, right up to her hips. Following his instinct, he grabbed his jacket and tossed it over Amelia’s lap. They should leave. Go to their room. But he was already reaching beneath his jacket to slide his hand up her smooth thigh. He stopped when the heat of her sex teased the tips of his fingers.
“It’s okay,” she whispered, her voice sounding raw. “I want you to touch me. Right now. In here.”
Her permission washed away his reluctance. He lifted his hand higher until he made contact with her panties. Lace. Moist. He shut his eyes and licked her neck. She tilted her head, exposing more of her skin. The perfume she must have dabbed in the cleft of her neck had long since faded. He followed those same primal instincts that had guided his every action so far and grazed his teeth along her silky neck.
Her moan sounded pained. His heartbeat thudded as he tugged her panties to the side. What he wanted to do and what he knew he should do first, pounded in every beat. Nothing in his life had ever felt this intense.
He brushed his fingers along the outer lips, memorizing her physical makeup. Smooth to the touch, but lower she was wet. He followed that source of her arousal. Her inner lips were slippery, not soft…just different than anything he’d ever touched. He swirled his finger around, getting used to the feel of her. The first time he’d moved his finger, her clit was almost flat, but now he could tell the difference. It was swollen. She twisted her hips, whispering a curse.