The Virgin's Guide to Misbehaving

by Jessica Clare

  She bit her lip, putting a hand to his chest, and pulled away just as quickly, since he was still covered in oil.

  “Yeah, I’m going to get you all greasy, aren’t I? Ask me if I care.” He gave her a roguish grin, and his fingers went to the button of her jeans and undid them. The fabric fell, loose, around her hips, and he shoved his hand into her panties.

  And then Elise clung to him as his fingers slid against the slick folds of her sex and found her wet. “Ah, there’s my girl,” Rome murmured, and kissed her again. “All hot and ready for me. You like the thought of my mouth on you?”

  The breath was sucked out of her lungs and she stared up at him, mute. “I . . . yes.” The words squeaked out of her throat, almost forced. It had been hard to admit, and immediately, her face flushed in response.

  “Lie down for me.”

  She glanced around, looking at the cloth-covered floor, then back at him, all naked and gleaming. “I . . . Be careful we don’t knock over any candles.”

  He chuckled. “You don’t have to lecture me about safety. I’m the one covered in oil at the moment.”

  Gingerly, she sat down on the floor, her legs extended in front of her awkwardly. She wasn’t sure what to do. Lie back, flat as a board? The mental image of that was ridiculous. Sit cross-legged? She leaned back on her hands awkwardly, waiting for him.

  Rome knelt in front of her, all gorgeous and oh so naked. He grinned, stealing her breath, and hooked one hand behind her knee, dragging her body toward him. The fabric bunched up under her, and Elise shifted awkwardly.

  “Lift your hips,” he commanded.

  She did, and he immediately tugged on her jeans, dragging them down her thighs. Slowly, her panties—her horrible, embarrassing panties—were exposed. But he didn’t tease her about them. He simply hooked a finger under the waistband and began to drag them down along with her jeans.

  She was going to be totally naked from the waist down.

  Anxiety warred with excitement. She wanted to do this, but she was scared. What if he didn’t like the way her sex looked? What if he noticed her hips didn’t exactly line up to her shoulders? What if he saw that scar on her buttock and started asking about it? She bit her lip, uncertain if she should stop him or not.

  But just then, he looked up at her and flashed a grin. “This is more fun than unwrapping gifts at Christmas.”

  It struck her as such an absurd thing to say that she snort-giggled. Pulling her pants off was nothing like opening gifts.

  But he only grinned and winked at her, and then lifted one leg at a time to drag her clothes off them. Then he cast her jeans and panties to the side.

  And she sat there, waiting, all anxiety, for him to say something.

  His hand skimmed up her pale calf, then caressed her knee, leaving a gleam of baby oil behind on her skin. “Beautiful.”

  She flushed with pleasure. She didn’t have great legs—they weren’t toned, or tanned. They were actually a rather ghastly pale, but he made her feel pretty.

  That hand continued to slide up her leg, and Rome’s eyes met hers, so blue and intense. Then his hand pressed at the inside of her knee, a suggestion for her to part her legs.

  Biting her lip, Elise did so.

  The hand slid to her sex, covering her with his palm. He looked up at her, heat in his eyes. “Tell me if you get freaked out or scared, all right?”

  She nodded slowly.

  His hand moved, his thumb brushing over her curls. She was wet again, incredibly wet to the point that she would have been embarrassed were it not for the look of satisfaction on his face. His fingers slid between her folds and his gaze went back to hers.

  It was hard to keep eye contact with him when his hand was touching her so intimately. She felt incredibly exposed, incredibly naked, and incredibly, terribly aroused. The urge to close her legs and push him away was real and strong, just as strong as the excitement burning in her, wondering what he’d do next.

  “I’m going to put my mouth on you,” he murmured. “I’m going to bury it in that sweet flesh and taste you. And I’m going to lick your pussy like it’s my favorite dessert, and tease your clit with my tongue. And I’m not going to stop until you come.”

  Elise gasped at his words, her legs trembling. Knowing he was going to do it was one thing; having him kneeling between her spread legs and announcing how he was going to lick her was another entirely. But she couldn’t break that intense blue-eyed gaze.

  “You ready?” he asked her.

  Oh god, she was supposed to say something? Like yes, go ahead and start licking? Couldn’t he just start? Elise’s mouth worked for a moment, and when no words came out of her locked throat, she gave him a wide-eyed nod.

  Then Rome gave her that sexy, confident little grin that made her melt inside, and he leaned down, breaking their eye contact. She stared in wonder as he leaned over her spread legs and then shifted his big body.

  And then his mouth was on her.

  Elise froze, her body stiffening as she felt the first probe of his tongue against her flesh. It wasn’t quite the fireworks and explosions she’d expected. Instead, it just felt like the gentle prod of an unfamiliar touch. She frowned to herself. Was he doing it wrong? Oh god, what if she was the one doing something wrong? What if there was a trick to this and she didn’t know it—

  “Elise,” he murmured, not looking up. “You’re tense as hell. Lie back, close your eyes, and relax, okay?”

  “A-a-all right,” she stammered, and lay back on the hard floor, trying not to feel embarrassed. “Do you need me to do anything—”

  “Yeah. Relax.”

  “I’m trying to. It’s difficult when you’re sitting there between my legs,” she retorted.

  He chuckled, and a shiver broke out on her skin when she realized she could feel his laugh against her flesh. She wanted to look again, but she’d promised him she’d lie back and close her eyes, and she did.

  “Why don’t you try deep breathing or something?”

  “Huh?” Why were they having a conversation about breathing when he was going to lick her between her legs?

  “Yeah,” he said. “It’s a good way to relax. Breathe in, count to five, breathe out, count to five. Rinse and repeat. You’re still tense as all fuck and it’s making me antsy.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” She obediently began to do as he’d suggested, breathing in slowly, counting, and then breathing out again. His mouth wasn’t on her anymore, but she felt his hand slide up and down her thigh in a stroking, soothing motion. That was . . . rather nice, she had to admit. Almost nicer than when his mouth had been on her, but she wouldn’t tell him that. It might hurt his feelings.

  Maybe she just wasn’t the kind of girl who liked oral sex.

  She continued to breathe in and out slowly, her muscles slowly easing. Some of the tension was leaving her body, helped by his stroking hands. They were just stroking the insides of her thighs, now, sliding up and down her skin. His knuckles grazed where her thigh and hip met and she shivered, but it was a good shiver.

  “You counting?” His voice was a low murmur.

  “One, two, three, four, five,” she chanted obediently as she exhaled, then began the count again in her head as she inhaled. This breathing thing was rather nice. She was definitely feeling relaxed.

  Something pressed on top of her mound.

  His mouth. Oh.

  Her count was interrupted and she got distracted, then gave herself a mental shake and continued counting to herself.

  “I’m going to touch you a little,” he said in a low, husky voice that made her skin prickle all over again. “Keep counting.”

  “One,” she said obediently. “Two, three—”

  On four, his tongue flicked over her clitoris.

  The breath whooshed out of her lungs.

  “Count,” he commanded, and his tongue flicked over it again.

  She felt a little squirmy at the sensation of his mouth against her. Not tense like before, but, differ
ent. She wasn’t sure if she liked it or not. “One,” she began again, her voice sounding rather breathless even to her own ears.

  He didn’t wait for her to get to four that time. His tongue began to push and lick at her clit in slow, languid motions.

  Oh. Oh. She wanted to push his face away. No, scratch that. She wanted to mash it against her clit and rub hard. Not soft and flicking like the touches of his tongue as they coaxed and teased her. She’d push hard, and rub to end the wonderful, awful tension he was creating with those small, flicking licks.

  “You counting?” he asked between licks.

  She’d forgotten her count. Her legs trembled and she fisted her hands, unsure what to do with them. “One,” she began again. “Tw-uh-huh-huh,” she sobbed as he changed tactics and began to suck on her clit. Oh god. Oh Jesus. Oh sweet heaven, that was good. Her hands found their way to his head and she tried to direct him to go back to licking. She could stand the licking. The sucking, though, that was going to make her crawl all the way out of her skin. “Th-th-threee,” she exhaled in a wheezing gasp as he made a soft smacking noise, as if eating her was delicious.

  “Mmm,” he said in a low voice that made her shiver all over again. “This is some juicy pussy, Elise. Love how wet you get for me.”

  Of course, that made her get distracted all over again, especially when he groaned low in his throat and began to lick her all over again. Her hands on his head curled into fists, and she wished for a moment that his hair was long so she had something to hold on to. Instead, all she could do was press her knuckles to his scalp and try to hold on.

  “Count,” he growled between licks.

  “One,” she began again, and it ended on a bit of a sob when he did this incredible nuzzling thing with his lips against her clit. Then it stopped, and he went back to licking, which was frustrating and wonderful at the same time. Her hips rocked a little, trying to push against his mouth, and then she stilled, worried that she wasn’t supposed to do that. “Sorry—”

  “No, that’s good, baby,” he murmured between licks. “Show me that you like it.”

  “I like all of it,” she wheezed, her hips rocking again.

  “Yeah? Can I do more, then?” He nuzzled at her clit again, and she cried out. “Gonna take that as a yes,” he told her.

  She felt a finger press against the opening of her core. Her breath whistled out of her throat.

  “Count,” he demanded, and then nuzzled again.

  Oh god, she was helpless against that nuzzle. “One—”

  His finger pushed inside her.

  She keened, her hips raising up. She felt his hand brace on her hip, forcing her back down on the floor, even as he continued to lick and suck at her clit. The finger inside her was joined by another, and then she was being stretched, fingers pumping in and out slowly, even as he continued to lick and suck at her clit.

  And it was rapidly becoming too much. Her breath was coming in short, hard pants. “One,” she gasped. “One. One. One. Oh god, one—”

  He chuckled against her clit but she was beyond caring, because he did that nuzzle thing again and she pushed her knuckles against his scalp, her hips raising even as she tried to bear down against his fingers. Oh god, it was too much. “One,” she cried out again.

  “You gonna come?”

  She nodded, her breath catching in her throat like a sob.

  “Good,” he said in a possessive, hungry voice, and then he began to lick and suck even harder, those fingers pounding into her.

  Elise came with a keening cry that might have been “one” again. Her entire body locked up, and she felt the gush of wetness between her legs, felt his groan of pleasure, and heard the slick hammering of his fingers inside her, pushing in and out, and she just kept coming and coming and coming, her body arching like a bow.

  And then she collapsed on the hard floor, panting and trying to catch the breath that couldn’t quite seem to find its way back into her lungs again. Her hair clung to her forehead in sweaty tendrils; she hadn’t even realized she was sweating.

  Lord have mercy.

  Okay, so she’d grossly underestimated what it was like to have a man eat her pussy. She’d been tense at the beginning and hadn’t relaxed enough to enjoy herself. As soon as she had, though . . . holy crap.

  “You,” Rome said with a chuckle, crawling up over her with a pleased look on his face, “need a few counting lessons.”

  He looked rather satisfied with himself, his mouth damp and his lips a little red and swollen, as if he’d been thoroughly kissed. She supposed he had been kissing . . . it just wasn’t her mouth.

  Blushing, she ducked her head against his arm. “You were distracting me.”

  “I was,” he agreed. “And you came beautifully once you relaxed.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her mouth.

  She opened her lips for him, pleased when his tongue skated against her own, and surprised to taste herself on his mouth. “Did I . . .”

  “Oh yeah,” he said, and sounded pleased as hell. “We’re definitely two for two.”

  She ran a hand along the arm braced next to her head, and winced at the baby oil coating her palm. “I think we’ve made a mess of the staging sheets.”

  “Huge mess,” he agreed. “We’re probably lucky we haven’t caught on fire, what with all the distractions and writhing we’ve been doing.”

  “You sure did look nice all oiled up, though,” she said, sliding her hands up and down his front.

  “Did I? I’m glad you liked it.”

  “Do you want to see the photos when they’re done?”

  He shrugged. “I only did it so you’d have to see me again.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “You didn’t think I was going to come back?”

  “I wasn’t sure. You’re awfully skittish at times.”

  Well, that was true enough. “But I’m still a virgin,” she told him, pleased at the way his gaze seemed to grow hooded at the mere mention of the word. “That would defeat the purpose of our experiment.”

  “Experiment, huh?” Rome leaned in and kissed her again. “So what now?”

  “Now I clean up the mess I made in here,” she said, glancing at the flickering candles.

  He tweaked her nipple through the fabric of her shirt, surprising her—and sending another bolt of lust through her body. “I meant you and me.”

  Elise wasn’t sure what he was asking. “What’s next . . . for you and me?”

  He nodded, the look he gave her surprisingly intense. “You’re still shy around me. I don’t scare you, do I?” He tugged at her shirt thoughtfully.

  She shook her head. “I’m not . . . I just . . . I’m not comfortable, I guess.”

  “I don’t see why. You’re sexy as hell.” He brushed a lock of hair away from her face, the touch of his fingers tender. “I’m just shocked no one’s scooped you up before me.”

  That didn’t sound like the words of a man who was content to be used for de-virgining. Elise looked up into Rome’s rugged face and gave a small, soft sigh. She touched his face gently. “Maybe I just got lucky.”

  To her surprise, a wry expression curved his mouth. “Yeah. Lucky.”

  He didn’t sound like he believed her. Well, he wasn’t the only one feeling like the other was going to have a harsh wake-up call sometime soon, was he? Why was Rome so down on himself? From what she knew, he was perfect. Strong, gorgeous, smart, funny, patient with someone as ridiculously silly as her . . .

  Her fingers brushed against the lip ring. “So . . . when do you want to get together again?”

  He nipped at her fingers, sending a skitter of excitement through her body. “I am at your beck and call.” He thought for a moment, and then gave a small shrug. “Well, unless your beck and call is on a weekday, because your brother would have my head if I skipped out on work.”

  “We wouldn’t want that,” she said shyly. Should she suggest tomorrow night? Would that be too forward? Could you be too forward with a m
an who’d just licked you until you came? Who, even now, was sprawled between her legs, naked? Her fingers traced along a tattoo thoughtfully. “My schedule is more open than yours. Do you want to just text me when you’re available?”

  “I can do that.” He leaned in and pressed another kiss on her mouth. “But for now, I suppose we should clean up this room, shouldn’t we?”

  She nodded, and tried not to think of him never calling her again. He would, wouldn’t he?

  NINE

  A week later, Elise got the courage to drop the staging sheets off at the dry cleaner at the next town over. She tried not to blush when pointing out that the material was stained with baby oil and wax, and could they please get it out. Again, not something she wanted to take in to a Bluebonnet dry cleaner, since it was a small town and people talked. But all this subterfuge was getting a little ridiculous.

  Would it really be so bad if people found out she and Rome were dating?

  They were dating, weren’t they? He’d taken her out a few times in the last week, and sure, they made out a bit—okay, a lot—but they also laughed and talked and did couple-type things. He wasn’t pressuring her for sex just so he could bang her and get it over with.

  That was dating, wasn’t it?

  And she hadn’t expected it from him—she’d expected him to have sex with her, of course, but not more than that—and it was a pleasure to be around him. When he wasn’t there, she found herself thinking about him. What was he doing that day? Did he think about her while he was at work?

  She had it bad.

  Of course, she was naive, but she was rather hoping she wasn’t the only one. Just this morning, she’d gotten a text from Rome.

  Woke up this morning and you weren’t in my bed. Kinda sucked.

  Which, of course, made her all giddy and giggly. She sent back: Did you check under the bed?

  No sexy brunettes. Just a blonde, but I kicked her out.

  Hey!

  J/K. Maybe you should come check for yourself. :)

  She thought about that smiley all morning. It matched the smile on her own face. Heck, she couldn’t stop smiling. Okay, sometimes she thought about their interlude in the salon and how he’d buried his face against her sex, and then she blushed along with her smile. But mostly? Just smiling.