Virgin's Lust

by Kayla C. Oliver

  “You don’t have to twist my arm, baby.”

  I reached for her, my hands cupping her large breasts, squeezing them. She moaned as I did so, encouraging me further. Her back arched, shoving her tits farther into my hands eagerly. I grinned down at her, hungry for her pale, freckled flesh. I palmed her tits for a bit before I let my fingers slip up to her nipples. As soon as I flicked a thumb over the pebbled tips, she cried out.

  “Sensitive?” I asked, flicking them again.

  She moaned loudly and nodded her head.

  I pinched her tips between my forefinger and thumb, rolling them carefully, then squeezing them. She cried out at the movement.

  Fuck, she’s responsive, I thought.

  My cock was straining against my pants, and all I wanted to do was plunge into her balls-deep, but I’d promised her torture. Plus, her fucking tits… they were addictive.

  I leaned forward to capture a nipple in my mouth, letting my hand return to cupping her heavy flesh. I fastened my mouth around the hardened nub, getting another groan of approval. Then my tongue laved at the pebble before I sucked on it. Her hands went to my head, gripping my dark hair, holding me to her breast. I grinned into her flesh right before I caught her nipple between my teeth and worried at it.

  “Jesus,” she said, her voice strained.

  I bit her just a little, not hard enough to cause much in the way of pain, but like a pinch, just to let her know I was there. Not that she needed the reminder. My tongue instantly went over it to soothe the bite, and she writhed beneath me.

  “Fuck, are you going to take off your damn pants or what?” she demanded, half panting, and all I’d done was fondle her tits.

  I sucked once more on her nipple before pulling away. “Impatient?”

  She groaned. “Damn it, yes!”

  I chuckled a little at how demanding she was and how bad she was at waiting. But my hands went to my trousers just the same, because the truth was, I was feeling pretty damn impatient myself. I popped open the button, then slid down my zipper. My cock sprang free, hard and pulsing already, begging to plunge into her unknown.

  Marnie looked down the length of her own body to see my jutting cock. I felt her shudder beneath me and saw her lick her lips. I briefly considered offering her a mouthful, but I was too close already. I felt like I might pop if those red, red lips slipped around my dick and swallowed me.

  Fuck, but I might not get another chance.

  Check that, I wouldn’t get another chance. This would be a onetime deal. But that didn’t change the fact that I was already fit to burst, and if I came, I could shamelessly say, I wanted it to happen while I was buried in her pussy.

  I shifted on my knees, repositioning myself so that I could pull her dress free and drag it up over those lovely, impossibly long legs. Each inch of skin I exposed was another piece of flesh I wanted to touch and taste. I moved the fabric up her thighs, and when I pulled it that last stretch, bunching it around her waist, I swallowed thickly.

  Her pussy was just as pink as those nipples, and it was not only bare, but also dripping wet.

  Leaving her dress gathered around her waist, I let my hands move down. I cupped her first, and she groaned. “You’re hot and wet,” I commented, letting my finger slide along her opening, dipping just slightly between her lips to gather the moisture there. “Are you tight, too?”

  She moaned, her hips bucking up toward my hand wantonly. “You won’t know until you put something in there—got anything handy?”

  I laughed. “As a matter of fact, I do. I’ve got a couple of things to bury in you, baby. Wanna start with this?” I pushed two fingers past her lips into her hot, wet core. She gasped, then moaned as I put my fingers in to the knuckles.

  Fuck, she is tight, I thought.

  Her pussy spasmed around my fingers. I groaned. Fuck, I needed my dick in there now. My fingers pulled out quickly, coated in her wetness, and she groaned in protest.

  “Please—” she started, but she didn’t have to.

  I was already positioning the head of my dick at her entrance. My hands went to her hips, then slid lower and to the inside so that I could use my thumbs to hold her pussy open. I slid myself against her, gathering her moisture on my length. Then, finally, I put my head at her opening, and I shoved in.

  She cried out. “Oh fuck!”

  “Jesus,” I said at the same time, burying myself inside her to the hilt, filling up every bit of space until there was nothing left.

  She arched her back, pointing her breasts to the ceiling, and pushing her hips toward me. Her hands clutched at the comforter beneath her, gripping tightly as I pulled myself out only to thrust inside her once again. I began to piston inside her, too worked up to even try to go slow, but she didn’t seem to mind. She cried out for God and Jesus and the devil all at the same time, her hips working hard to keep up with my breakneck pace.

  My hands went down to her knees, lifting her legs up higher until I could throw them over my shoulders, changing the angle of entrance. She cried out in approval as I groaned. I caught a flash of those heels out of the corner of my eye and grinned wickedly.

  There was little sexier than a woman being fucked in her heels.

  I kept one hand on her hip as I plowed into her, the other wandering higher to her tits. I wrapped my fingers around one and squeezed her tightly. Her back arched in response.

  I dove into her as hard and fast as I could, but when I felt myself get closer, I made a quick decision to let the hand at her tit drift lower again. My fingers found their way between her legs just above where I was sliding my cock into her. When I found the little bundle of nerves there, I knew instantly, because she let out a long, drawn-out cry.

  In time with my rhythmic thrusts, I began to move my finger against her nub. I rubbed hard and fast, that little movement becoming more and more difficult as I felt myself get closer toward release. My thrusts became erratic, my body aching for the release that was building up hot and fast in my system. Just before I lost myself, I felt her explode beneath me. Her hands gripped at the comforter until her knuckles were white, her voice rang out through the room, and she arched those wonderful tits as she lost herself to oblivion.

  I felt my own release power through me, unloading everything I had into her perfect body. For a moment, I was gone. My body was shaky, uncoordinated, and my mind felt like it was disconnected. When I finally came back to myself, I was leaning over her body, barely keeping myself from crushing her by supporting my weight on shaky forearms.

  Our eyes met for just a moment, and I had a weird feeling that this was something more.

  Then it was gone, and I pulled out of her. We both groaned. I found a towel in the attached bathroom and cleaned myself up. Then I threw a second towel to her. She did the same. As I zipped up my fly, she adjusted her dress until she was fully covered once more.

  Both dressed again, we faced each other.

  “You know this doesn’t mean anything, right?” I asked her calmly.

  She barked out a cool laugh. “I’m not a schoolgirl, Mr. Reid. I know what this was. And I just want to remind you that this doesn’t mean I’ll be giving up.”

  “Then our little competition is on?”

  She smiled sweetly at me. “Agreed. Best of luck—you’ll need it.”

  I escorted her out then and we parted ways. I was still a little loopy from my orgasm, but I had a weird, twisting feeling in my gut like this might have been a very serious mistake on my part. I tried to shove it away quickly, but it followed me home and remained even as I finally drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter Ten

  Trent

  “Callum called. Again.”

  I glanced over at Sara and raising my eyebrows at her, I said, “What did he want? And why didn’t he call my damn cell?”

  She rolled her eyes at me. Sara was a little thing with dark hair and olive skin. She was Italian or Greek depending on who asked, but it didn’t really matter because she was 100 percent
American in the end. The closest to Italian and Greek she got was the Italian sub she ordered from that sandwich shop down the street and the disgusting Greek yogurt in the fridge. I reminded her she was gross every time I saw her eating it.

  “He said you’d ask that,” she answered, reaching for her memo pad. Clearing her throat, she said, “And I quote, ‘tell that bastard that I’m going through you’—he means me—‘because he informed me that I have to make this formal, otherwise it doesn’t fucking count. Sorry, Sara, I should watch my language’—he’s always been such a sweetheart, don’t you think?—‘tell that idiot to call me.’ End quote.”

  I was laughing by the time she was done. Sara was a smart mouth when she wanted to be, and being the go-between for me and Callum usually brought that quality out in her. Shaking my head a little, I grinned down at her. “Guess that means I should give him a call, eh?”

  She lifted a single shoulder in a half shrug. “It’s probably not a bad idea. He sounded a little rough around the edges, like maybe he didn’t sleep so well last night.” She pursed her lips together thoughtfully.

  “Aww, is little Sara concerned about the poor little baby’s bedtime?” I teased.

  Instantly, her high cheeks reddened, and she narrowed her eyes at me. She threw her memo pad in my direction half-heartedly. I dodged easily, laughing my ass off.

  “You’re so immature!”

  I only laughed harder. Sara had had a crush on Callum since college. When I used to drag Callum to that little Greek restaurant she worked at—because she looked the part and could fake an accent—she would be at our table every two seconds to make sure that Callum had everything he needed. I teased her mercilessly about it until she threatened to tell my grandmother that I was being mean. Although I was sure the threat still stood, I got away with a little light teasing now and again.

  Annoyed with me, she stood up from her little corner desk and walked over to me. She snatched up the fallen memo pad and then spit her tongue out at me. Turning, she stalked off.

  “Oh, yeah, real mature!” I called after her, but it wasn’t very effective given that I was still laughing.

  Still chuckling over Sara’s schoolgirl crush, I headed toward my workroom, pulling out my phone as I went. I was going to call Callum and set up another meeting because I was already about 90 percent sure I’d sign with him. S&W could offer me the sun and they still wouldn’t be able to convince me to go to the dark side. I was about to dial him when I got an incoming call. As soon as I saw it, a wide grin spread across my features.

  I knew she was only calling on behalf of S&W Publishing.

  I knew that she didn’t think she was talking to Trent Parker, but rather his “agent,” Malcom Resner.

  But I couldn’t help the thrill that rushed through me at the sight of Courtney’s name on my caller ID. Pulling myself together, I cleared my throat, let the phone ring two more times, and then answered.

  “Hello?”

  “Mal—I mean, Mr. Resner,” Courtney greeted me, coughing a little after nearly using my first name. “This is Ms. Hughes at S&W Publishing.”

  My grin widened. She was getting used to calling me Malcom, which, although it was my middle name, I couldn’t help but view as progress. “Courtney, how are you?”

  “I’m good, thank you.” She paused, then added, “How are you?”

  I did a little fist pump. She was warming up to me, I could tell. “Doing better now.”

  “Very cute, Mr. Resner.”

  “I told you, call me Malcom.”

  There was another pause. I could imagine her warring with herself now, with her cute little vintage dress and those ruby-red lips. Damn, she was beautiful. Finally, she sighed into the phone. “Malcom. I’m calling about Mr. Parker.”

  “Oh, and here I thought you just missed me,” I teased lightly.

  She gave a short laugh that must have been genuine, because she ended it abruptly with a cough. “Yes, well, sorry to disappoint. But the fact remains that I do need to discuss Mr. Parker’s schedule.”

  I sighed. “Can I be honest with you, Courtney?”

  “Of course. In fact, I’d prefer it.”

  Which means I really should just tell her who the hell I am—but I’m not going to.

  Because I wasn’t done with this. I needed to warm her up a little more, then make the big reveal. That way she’d be too smitten with me to really care that I had been lying to her about my identity.

  That was realistic, right?

  “Mr. Parker isn’t interested,” I told her seriously. Although I truly did want to keep chatting up Courtney and I had every intention of winning her over, I wasn’t going to sign with S&W.

  There was a pause that was long enough I almost thought she’d hung up on me.

  “Hello?”

  “I’m here,” she answered. “You could have told me that when I picked up instead of wasting my time, you know.”

  I frowned. I took a seat in my overstuffed lounge chair, reclining in it as I held the phone to my ear. “I didn’t think talking with me was a waste of your time.”

  “Look, it’s not that I don’t enjoy our chats—”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “—but I’m on the clock. Officially, this is a business call.”

  “And unofficially?” I prompted.

  She hesitated. “Unofficially, I called to set up a meeting with Mr. Parker, but I’m not necessarily upset that we had time to… talk.”

  I imagined a blush on her cheeks. A rosy color would look good on her, natural amidst the deliberately styled hair and the big eyes and those pretty button-down dresses. “Good. Because I’d like to keep our conversation going, regardless of whether or not Mr. Parker decides to sign with S&W.”

  I waited after that. It was true. I wanted to keep talking to her, but I didn’t want to have to sign anything to do that. I was a notorious flirt, it was true, but that didn’t mean I was willing to get into the legal crap to win someone over. If I’d been willing to do that, I’d have been married already.

  Yeah, right. Fat chance of that ever happening.

  After a moment, Courtney responded. “Well, I can’t promise anything. But S&W is willing to promise Mr. Parker quite a bit.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m not sure that S&W can offer anything to change his mind.” I waited a beat, then couldn’t help myself. “What can you offer?”

  Instantly, I regretted asking that.

  “I’m not going to offer that player anything,” she snapped at me. “I know how he is with women, and I want no part. This is purely a business transaction, and if he isn’t willing to consider the generous offer of Ms. McKenna, then I’m really not interested in furthering the conversation independently.”

  “Whoa, whoa, easy honey,” I said, doing my best to soothe the feathers I’d just ruffled.

  “Don’t call me honey.”

  “Courtney,” I corrected myself. “I’m glad that you wouldn’t sacrifice your integrity just for a sale. I had that sense about you right away.”

  “Are you trying to butter me up with flattery?” she accused.

  I grinned. “Maybe. Is it working?”

  She tried to resist, but I heard a laugh escape her lips. “Okay, maybe a little bit. But I still want to set up an appointment with Mr. Parker. Any chance of that?”

  I held back a sigh. I realized instantly where I’d gone wrong here—she thought I was my agent, not me. Which wouldn’t be that big of an issue if she didn’t know what I looked like. But she did, so how the hell was I going to get a date with her if she recognized me? It was one thing if I had time to win her over, but I was quickly losing that time.

  “I’ll pitch it to him,” I finally said, knowing already what “Parker’s” answer was going to be.

  “Thank you,” she said sincerely. I could hear the smile in her voice, and it made me feel warm inside.

  “You bet. Don’t hesitate to call, Courtney. I like our chats, too.”

&nbs
p; She laughed again but promised she would when she got a chance. We hung up then, and I mulled over my predicament. How was I going to win her over when she thought Trent Parker was a total asshole?

  “I’m going to have to do some serious work.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Marnie

  Three days after the mind-blowing, spur-of-the-moment, complete and total brush with insanity that was sex with Callum Reid, I had lunch with Courtney. Although we were good friends, the kind that generally told each other everything, I hadn’t yet brought up my tryst with Mr. Reid. It wasn’t that I was ashamed—people had sex; we were both consenting adults—but I was a little embarrassed. It was Callum fucking Reid for Christ’s sake. Of all the guys to end my dry spell, he was not exactly the one I’d been banking on.

  But, man, what a way to end a dry spell, I thought, picking apart my sandwich to eat each individual piece.

  “You’re disgusting,” Courtney informed me matter-of-factly.

  My eyes went wide, and I jerked my gaze up to look at her. I was so terrified that I was caught, so focused on how I’d gone all wanton lady with Reid the other night, that I didn’t realize she wasn’t talking about that at all. She was still looking down at her salad, mixing it all dutifully together, and I realized that she was talking about my eating habits.

  “You’re gross,” I told her finally, a little breathless. “How can you just mix all those flavors together and expect them to be tasty? That’s just wrong.”

  She lifted her shoulders. “Makes more sense. It all gets mixed up in my stomach. And at least I don’t have to touch anything with my fingers. Gross. Do you know how many things you’ve touched in the last twenty minutes that you don’t even realize?”

  “No,” I said dryly. “If I knew that, I’d know what I’d touched, wouldn’t I?”

  She flicked a piece of lettuce in my direction. “You know what I mean.”

  I lifted a shoulder in a shrug, then popped a piece of my tomato into my mouth. I chewed thoughtfully. After I’d swallowed, I asked Courtney, “Any luck with Parker?”