by Lexi Whitlow
“You’re so fucking sexy. I wanted you from the first moment I saw you.” I’m stroking my cock with this beautiful girl straddling me, and nothing else in the world matters. She moans, and she throws her head back. I think about wrapping my fingers around that perfect neck while I fuck her from behind. I might get to do that, too. When I get her to stick around. Once I make her come, she’ll be begging to stay. Skye is shaking like she was before, and she gasps when she looks down at my cock.
“Oh my,” she murmurs. “That’s… impressive.”
Something about the way she says it makes me look up at her face. I see trepidation. No, more than that. Fear.
“It won’t hurt. I’ll make sure of it,” I say. “I’ll get you warmed up.”
A line I’ve used a hundred times. It’s true. I have the reputation not just for a big cock—but for pleasing a woman like no other man in Manhattan.
But when I say it, her eyes go wide, like a deer in headlights. She pulls away just a bit, trembling.
“It’s just that—” She stops and rolls away from me so she’s sitting next to me on the sofa. “It’s just that I haven’t done this before.”
“You said that. You don’t go home with guys like me. That kind of thing.” I’m immediately feeling a lot more sober, and there’s something slightly off about her tone. More than slightly off, if I’m being perfectly honest. I’m still as hard as I’ve ever been. Still, want her. But I zip up my jeans, going on instinct more than anything else. I gently place a blanket over Skye’s shoulders. She still looks afraid, but embarrassment is starting to creep in on her exquisite face. Her eyes are still as wide as saucers, her lips pursed.
“I mean—I haven’t done this at all before.”
I nod, like I understand. But what she’s telling me is so surreal I can barely comprehend it. I haven’t been with a virgin since before I graduated from high school. That can’t be real. It can’t be. “You mean you haven’t been to a guy’s apartment who works in a bar?” I crack a smile.
She shakes her head, pulling the blanket close around her. “I haven’t been with anyone. Not ever.”
“You’re what—twenty-five? You were just waiting—” I try to search around for the right words, but I’m shit at this sort of thing. That’s why girls don’t stay put, why I don’t want them to. It makes me think too much about Tabitha and all the ways I failed with her. And all the ways I’m failing now with Brie.
“I’m twenty-three. I was waiting. For a guy that I thought loved me. But he said—” She groans and lies back on the sofa.
I want this girl. I want her more than I’ve wanted anything in a long time—more than the rotating door of women, parading in and out of this apartment. Ceaseless, tireless. All the same.
I’m still hard, aching. Tight. The animal part of my brain wants to take her, throw her body back on top of mine, and watch as she lowers herself onto my cock. But as I look at her, half-dressed on my couch, dazed and nervous and trembling, I feel a wave of protectiveness. Shit I don’t normally feel.
“This isn’t the time then,” I say. I lean closer to her and brush a lock of silky dark hair behind her ear. It falls over her face again.
She looks at me, pupils dilated, skin flushed. She still wants it. Good God. I imagine how it would feel to take her for the first time, pushing all the way into her tight, virgin—
“I should probably go,” she mutters. She looks around for her shirt and bra. I watch as she picks them up and holds them protectively to her chest. Her fingers are long, the fingers of an artist. Delicate.
I’ve kicked women out for less. Set up a ride on Lyft while they were in the bathroom.
Skye gathers her things, embarrassed. Humiliated might be a better word. Since I’m an asshole, I just watch her for several seconds before speaking. But something in my character cracks, breaks inside, maybe for just a second. I wouldn’t fucking tell Finn about this kind of thinking, but I want to erase the pain off this girl’s face. When she’s pulling on her bra over those perfect, round breasts, I stand and catch her again, pulling her to me by her waist.
“It’s late. Stay the night. I’ll make it worth your time. There’s plenty we can do without—” It feels strange to say the words, so I don’t. Without taking your virginity. The mere thought of it makes my brain and body nearly explode. It takes every ounce of strength I have to contain myself. “Without, you know.”
“That doesn’t sound like a great idea, Liam.” She doesn’t sound convinced when she says it, but that humiliation is still written all over her face. “I think maybe we should just leave this whole thing alone.” She chuckles for a second and looks up at me. “Maybe I’ll just hire a male escort to get this whole thing over with. Then I can come back next year.”
I grin. “You want to get this whole thing over with? That was your goal, huh?”
“Yeah. I think I ought to go for it before I’m twenty-four.” She chews on her lip like she did in the bar. And she laughs again, light, and airy. I stand up and take her into my arms again, this time gentler. I tilt her face to mine and kiss her again, this time slower and deeper, my hands finding her breasts again. She shudders and lets out a low, throaty moan, like it’s throwing her into ecstasy just to be touched. My fingers find her nipple again, rolling it beneath her shirt.
“Just how inexperienced are you, Skye? Tell me.”
She swallows before she speaks, looking nervous. “I had a boyfriend in high school and college. We kissed. He touched me—over my clothes. We never even came close. ”
A man has never touched her like that. Never made her come.
“Really?” I chuckle, then laugh louder, still holding her tight. “That’s crazy. I mean—really fucking nuts. How does that even happen?”
“It’s not really that funny. Or crazy.” She pulls away, pushing her hand against my chest. “I should go, like I said. I’m better off figuring this out myself without you being an asshole and acting like I’m a circus freak show.”
“Hey, I’m an asshole for sure.” I keep hold of her arm, gentle but firm. “But I wasn’t laughing at you. I’m laughing at the idiot guy who passed up a gorgeous girl like you. He’s the real asshole here. Stupid fucker. He was weird as hell if he wasn’t fucking you every single day he had you at his fingertips.” I flash her a grin, and for a second, she just stands there, looking at me with her eyebrows knitted. “Wasn’t he? Fucking idiot.”
She just pauses, like she’s thinking. “He was.”
“Personally,” I lean into her. She’s still letting me hold her arm, even though it feels like she might bolt for the door at any moment. “I’d fuck you every day. Sometimes twice. Three times. Basically whenever you got naked in front of me. Or sometimes not naked.” I shrug. “I’m not tied to one particular way of fucking you. I just know I’d do it a lot.”
That makes her look down and brush her hair behind her ear, which I like. Very much. It’s sexy as hell.
“Yeah? I guess I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should. I’m up to the task.” I pull her back into me, and she doesn’t resist. She’s like a blank canvas, a sweet little girl I can teach while everyone around me thinks I’ve got some kind of dedicated girlfriend. Even fucking Marta. It’s better than I thought.
“Up to what task?” She raises an eyebrow.
“Making you—” I kiss her on the cheek and trail my lips along the length of her neck, down to her collarbone. “Come. Teaching you what you need to do to—” I let my hands move lower, cupping her ass, and then lifting her skirt. The smooth ripeness of her hips gives me the sudden image of her bent over, taking me to the hilt. This whole plan suddenly seems very enticing. “Please me. Please yourself.”
“What makes you think I want that?”
“The fact that you came up here tonight. That you even took a chance on a guy like me. I think we’ve established that I’m not exactly the type you would usually go for.”
She gives me an indeciphera
ble look. “Okay, yeah. I wanted to get it over with and leave in the morning. I’m not looking for a long term… anything. Nothing long term.”
I shrug. “I think that’s what you need. Just for a while. Friends with benefits. You get the benefit of someone teaching you. I get to have fun while I do it. We’re both a little less—alone.” She smiles at that.
And you can play the part of my girlfriend. Fiancée. Wife if we need to.
Something about that makes me excited. Even though the deal is far from sealed.
“Okay.”
“Yeah?” I pull her in closer and kiss her again. It feels good, kissing her. Like I should be doing it. I wonder if I ought to inform her about what she’s about to sign up for. But I’ve never told any other girl about my daughter, my ex. About the custody battle. Anything like that. The words sit on the tip of my tongue, but they don’t come now. She’ll know tomorrow morning. Maybe it’s best if all the information comes out at once.
Instead of telling her, I lift her up into my arms, and I carry to the bedroom.
To show her what it feels like to give in.
Chapter Four
Skye
He carries me into the bedroom, throws me down onto the bed. My heart is racing, and I taste salt and metal at the back of my throat. I used to feel that way when I was little and I woke up in the middle of the night. I’d look into the dark, gaping mouth of my closet, just waiting for a sound, or a small movement. A monster hiding inside. Or worse, a man come to abduct me and take me away. Later, that feeling was mixed with fantasy, mixed up with the Harlequin novels I’d read. The sinful priest. The pirate with an appetite for virgins.
It’s been a long time since I had that feeling. Fear, mixed with deep, forbidden excitement. When I look up at Liam, I feel that now. He could do anything. Tie me to his bed. Keep me here forever. The heat between my legs only intensifies, magnified by fear. His strength. The things he’s not telling me—the tattoos, scars. His family.
He sits down next to me on the bed, and I prop myself up on my elbows, body vulnerable. Exposed. I’m suddenly very aware that I’m not wearing a bra and that I have on a thong. I think of the comfortable things I usually wear—briefs, sports bras. Nice long shirts and jeans made soft by washing and drying many, many times. These clothes—this whole mask—it makes me awkward, my body out of place. There’s something terrifying about it. Something thrilling.
Liam is silent as he takes off his shirt. There are other tattoos, faded ones, interlaced with old scars. But otherwise, his body is a fierce work of art. His abs are chiseled, leading down to the deep V of his pelvis. The sensual, long lines of his forearms and biceps hypnotize me. I’m sure he’s set it all up that way—he’s made it so that he’s irresistible to any stupid woman who walks into his bar.
And you, Skye, are one of those stupid women. It’s a Saturday night, and I’m usually curled up with a book. Harry Potter. Pride and Prejudice. Jane Eyre. Or one of the soft, well-loved Harlequins my mom left for me when she died. The pages are worn, like petals. Those romances feel safe.
They’re not hot, or strong. Not simmering and physical, like this man. The sex exists only on the page—or not at all. And if I had to guess, the real Mr. Darcy didn’t look anything like this man.
He slips off his jeans again, and I can see the faint bulge of his cock. A shock goes through me. Does he plan to use that on me tonight? He said he wouldn’t. My breath hitches in my throat, and my heart flutters in my chest.
“Take a picture,” he says, smiling. “It’ll last longer.”
“I wasn’t looking at—”
“You were. I don’t blame you. It’s a pretty fucking impressive instrument. But it’s not happening now. You’ll have to wait.”
I chew the inside of my cheek. I want to wait forever. And I want it now.
“Then why am I here?”
“Because I say you should be. If you’re in this deal with me—I’m calling the shots.”
I sit up straight. “I didn’t agree to that.” I think of all the time I spent trying to stand up for myself in college, in my own family. And here I am, letting a stranger tell me what to do. For the sake of losing my virginity. It doesn’t make a bit of fucking sense. But when I look at him, I feel something profound and animal, drawing me to him. Making me want to give in. Stay at least one night. See what he does.
“I didn’t say you couldn’t go.” He stands at the edge of the bed. My eyes are drawn to his muscled legs and the curve of his ass. “You can leave now if you want to. But you won’t find someone else who will make you feel as good as I can.”
That gets me. For all my hesitation, for the freak-out I had earlier, I can’t help but imagine what it would feel like to have him between my legs. His fingers, his lips, the length of his cock.
“And tonight?”
“You ever sleep next to this boyfriend of yours?”
“Ex-boyfriend. One time. He only let me stay over one time. There was an ice storm. The electricity was off, and we stayed in our clothes, wrapped up in blankets.”
“That doesn’t count.”
“I guess not. Six years of my life, and it feels like none of that counted for anything. I’m boring—and I’m still a virgin. I told one other guy about that, and he dropped me after the first date.” The words pour out, even though I don’t mean for them to.
Liam nods and looks at me like he’s calculating something. He pauses and sits on the edge of the bed, his hand going to my leg, pushing its way up to my thigh. “You’re going to stay here tonight. You’re going to sleep next to me, naked. And if you decide to keep coming back for more, you’ll do a favor for me in the morning.”
“What kind of favor?” Liam’s hand roams higher, his fingertips playing with the waistband of my thong. My aching sex throbs in response. It almost doesn’t matter what he says the favor is—I know I’m staying the night and waking here in the morning.
“It’s not a big deal. The favor. How about I tell you in the morning?”
I shrug like it’s no big deal even though my heart is racing. “Okay.”
“Lights on or off?” he asks.
I stare at him in disbelief. Did I really agree to stay here tonight? I don’t know how we came to this. “Off,” I say. “I guess. I don’t know.” Part of me wants to see him, to memorize the hard, straight lines of his body. To remember it all.
But he flicks off the light, and we both become shadows, the moon and streetlamp the only source of light to illuminate us.
Things happen fast after that.
Liam slides in bed beside me. His cold hands find my body in the dark and make me jump.
“We’ll take things slow. We have plenty of time.” He takes my face and turns it toward him, letting his tongue explore my mouth, lips covering mine. My body sings with desire. I turn to him, let myself go.
This isn’t me, but it also is. It’s the self that I left hiding in those romance novels, the invisible part of me that I let fade when I was with Charlie.
Strong, deft fingers pull at my shirt, ripping it and flinging it away from my body. Liam groans and presses into me, the bulge of his cock against my thigh. He cups my breasts, bringing his mouth to one, and then the other. His tongue glances against my nipples, sending white hot need straight to my center.
“You ever have a man’s mouth on you before?” he asks as he pulls away. I shake my head, and his fingers move away from my skirt and panties.
I can’t help it.
I think of him filling me, coming inside of me. What would that even feel like? Is it like I imagined a long time ago?
His strong fingers move down the length of my body. I’m naked now, and he wears only his boxer briefs, a thin layer of fabric separating us. Even though I’ve seen it—the length, the girth. It makes it that much more real, that much more present in my mind. Like I can fill in the blanks and for a moment, feel his cock entering me, hips grinding against my skin, fast and then slow.
“I
’m going to touch you. Which is what I’ve been wanting to do all night.” He stops for a second, his hand resting against my breast. “Actually, I was going to fuck you first and then make sure you came. I don’t like to leave my guests dissatisfied. But this—we’ll take it step by step.” His hand travels down the length of my body, over the curve of my belly, stopping just above my thighs. “Is that what you want? For me to make you come? Slowly?” His voice is husky and low.
“Yes,” I say. I arch my back. My spine is tingling, my nipples stiff as bullets.
His fingers slide lower, finding my sex, exploring it, barely grazing my clit. Each time he touches it, I shiver.
“Good,” he mutters. “So good. So wet.”
A finger slips inside of me, and I gasp. “Oh, my God,” I whisper. My brain starts to go blank, the room collapsing in on itself as I close my eyes and give myself over to the sensation.
“It’s so tight. When I fuck you, I’m going to love how you feel.” A second finger slips inside. Gently, methodically, Liam presses the base of his palm against my clit, moving his fingers inside of me, sending shockwaves through me, each stronger than the next. Each building to an inevitability that I’d only ever reached by myself.
I arch my back, moan, voice loud and animal. Sounds I don’t recognize coming from my throat as he brings me closer and closer to the edge.
“Come for me,” he whispers, his fingers rocking inside of me.
He says it as the tongues of flame rise through my thighs, through my sex, setting fire to my core. I groan, sigh. Come against his fingers. Come for him.
I slump against his body after that, sleep heavy behind my eyelids.
“You get a free pass this time.” He holds me to him when he says it, arm wrapped around my shoulders possessively. I wonder if this is what it feels like. The thing I didn’t have with Charlie. “Next time,” Liam says, “I’m going to make you beg.”