SeductiveIntent

by Angela Claire

  It all felt so wonderful that she was startled by the pressure when he started to push in. She knew what it was of course. She wanted it. But she pulled her head away from the kiss, taking a deep breath to try to adjust to the sensation. His cock was much bigger than his fingers had been and it took a moment.

  He groaned, continuing to push in, and almost involuntarily, she put her palms to her shoulders as if she could hold him back. “Stop,” she whispered swiftly, despite her best efforts.

  He did. Immediately. But she still felt so very full. It didn’t hurt exactly. It just felt…different enough to take her out of the moment.

  “Just wait a minute.”

  “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  Fuck, she was killing him. She was so fucking tight, her delicious, incredible tits against his chest, her tight, wet pussy sucking him in. Fuck. Stop what? He was shaking with the need to thrust all the way into her. He groaned and realized she was trying to look down to where they were joined.

  “What?” he begged.

  “You’re, oh my God, you’re only in a little bit.”

  Her voice didn’t sound all breathy and sexy and wild for him, as it had a minute ago. It sounded…like nothing he’d ever heard in bed with a woman before. It sounded…worried.

  “What is it? Am I hurting you?”

  “A little.”

  He took a deep breath to calm himself. “Relax. You’re very tight, honey.” He ran his lips along her cheek, her ear, the side of her neck and felt himself slide a little farther in. Although he was very much in danger of losing his self-control, she needed more foreplay apparently and those gorgeous tits were right there, begging for it. He gently brought his hand to her breast, flicking the hard rose-colored nipple with his thumb, and then bent his head to it, licking softly.

  “Oh, oh, Brendan…”

  He was keeping his damn cock perfectly still, going no farther in, as he lapped at her, her whispery sighs more like it. And though she was still tight, he felt her getting wetter and wetter until it would take a saint not to slide farther into her. But he switched to her other nipple—God, she really had incredible tits—and worked her further until he felt it safe to raise his head and ask, “Now, Sophia? Are you ready for me now? Can you take me?”

  “Yes,” she whimpered, her eyes closed, her head moving from side to side, her hips even moving a little, damned near pulling him in, though he resisted still.

  “All of me?” he clarified. Jesus, he was a fucking saint, since he waited for her answer even.

  “Yes,” she finally whispered, opening her eyes, her hands on her shoulders. “All of you.”

  He thrust his cock in swiftly, all the way in her tight, luscious pussy.

  And registered her gasp.

  Oh, wait, that…that hurt for a minute. She closed her eyes. But just for a minute, as she accustomed herself to that initial overwhelming sensation of having him all the way inside her. Now that he was, it felt, so, so wonderful. Full as she was, she felt herself take him even more fully, welcoming him with her body, though she wasn’t doing it consciously. Not precisely. He seemed to feel it anyway.

  He groaned. “Are you okay?” he asked again, sounding as if he was the one in pain.

  How many times was he going to ask her that? What prompted it now? She was fine. “Yes,” she said, wanting something, wanting him to move.

  And at her answer, he did, slowly at first, just a slight swirl of that incredible hard instrument of his, inside her. He kissed her temple, and then took her mouth again, plunging his tongue in as he pulled his cock out a little and then thrust back in.

  Whoa. That was…whoa. He did it again and she lost her train of thought. No, that wasn’t it. She lost all thought. Her body began to move with him, against him, on its own, knowing just what would make her, them, feel just right. Before she knew it, she was clinging to him, straining against him, listening to the grunts and gasps one or the other or both of them were emitting with awe as she registered this pinnacle of sensation.

  She came. Hard. Deep. In a way she never had, not even when he was fingering her before on his bed in Connecticut. She realized this was it. This was the big O. Not to be faked or replaced or substituted. She shuddered back on the pillow. No wonder he got all the women he needed. He could do…this…for them.

  Panting, she looked up at him in the moonlight. He was still balanced on his palms above her, still hard within her, not moving now though.

  He hadn’t come?

  What was up with that? Had she done something wrong?

  “Are you okay?” she asked, with not even the slightest ironic echoing of his earlier queries to her. “Did I…is there something I’m supposed to do?”

  He shook his head, smiling slightly, breathing as if he was trying to slow it down. “I’m trying to summon up some control.”

  “Why? Don’t you…er…shouldn’t you…”

  “Come?” he supplied. Then he moved, very slowly, very deliberately. She gasped. “Not until you do again.”

  She groaned. Oh, she couldn’t do that again. It was too soon. She was too raw. But he was winding her up again with his slow movement and his light kisses and she arched into him. This time, he was the one who groaned, as well as thrust so hard into her it robbed her of breath from a minute. Then he was off, pounding in such a way it was clear he’d lost all control and she was as shattered by it as she had been by his measured finesse. She came again, so hard and so deep, that she barely realized he came with her this time, shuddering over her, holding her close, his face buried in her shoulder.

  When they could both breathe normally again, he rolled off her, coming up on his side, moving a strand of hair from her face. She smiled up at him.

  “Sophia.” He said her name so softly. Then he brushed his lips lightly against hers and whispered, “I must be going crazy. But when I first put my fingers up you, I thought I felt like…and then you were so tight…was this your…” Finally he pulled back and said, “Were you a virgin?”

  She should have been ready for the question. In every romance novel she’d ever read, the hero could tell the moment he took the heroine’s virginity. But those were romances, historical ones at that usually. In this day and age, with tampons and gynecologists, she’d more or less supposed a man would probably not be able to tell. But the tampon part was probably a myth—she used pads anyway—and she’d never been to a gynecologist—her lifestyle being what it was, on the run half the time—so she didn’t know why she’d been relying on that.

  She didn’t check below to see if there was blood on the coverlet, but whether there was or not, he’d obviously felt something when they had sex.

  How to explain that away? She couldn’t exactly tell him the truth. I’ve had an unusual kind of life that involves a lot of foreplay but doesn’t require intercourse and I’ve never been inclined to it without some kind of a payoff. That wasn’t precisely the truth anyway. She didn’t know what was at this point or why she’d put a sudden end to her virginity tonight with this man. Or maybe she did know that part. She was wildly, honestly attracted to this Brendan Beckett, and had been for some time. She just plain had wanted to sleep with him, as simple as that would be for most girls and as complicated as it was for her.

  “No,” she finally answered him, lying of course. “I just, I haven’t…I told you I wasn’t very experienced.”

  He continued to play with her hair and then pulled her to him so that she found herself cuddled up against him, her head on his chest.

  “You’ve had sex before? Because it felt like, I mean it’s been a long time, but it kind of felt like, you, ah, hadn’t.”

  “No, I hadn’t,” she blurted out. “Not all the way.”

  He chuckled and she could feel it against his chest. “That’s kind of what a virgin is, Sophia.”

  “All right. Fine. I was a virgin.”

  He kissed her ear. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. As a matter of fact, it’s an incredible turn on.
Men are very territorial. It’s hot to think no one has ever done this to you.”

  “You’ve never slept with a virgin?”

  “Not for a very long time, since I don’t sleep with fifteen-year-olds, at least not since I was around that age myself. It’s, ah, a little unusual to find a virgin these days who’s what, twenty-two, twenty-three? How old are you?” When she didn’t answer, he said, “Unless that’s a big secret too.” He pulled away to remove the condom, tying the end and tossing it into a nearby wastebasket.

  “I’m around that age, I guess.”

  “You don’t know?” He said it as if that was a joke. As if it was impossible that somebody could not know their own age.

  God, she was a freak.

  “No, of course I know.”

  He pulled her into his arms again. “I haven’t just slept with an ex-nun, have I?”

  She laughed. “No. Just a girl with an overbearing father.” It was out of her mouth before she knew it.

  “Wow. He must have been something to keep the boys away from you. He’s not going to come gunning for me, is he?”

  “He’s dead.” Again, talk about winging it.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Sophia.”

  “Don’t be. He was an ass. I’m glad to be free of him.”

  He tightened his arms around her. “I’m sorry. I was lucky. My parents were great.”

  “Really? What was so great about them?” She was being flippant, but he didn’t seem to notice or mind if he did.

  “I don’t know. They loved each other. A lot. But it wasn’t to the exclusion of us, the kids. There was always this sense that here were two people who just loved you so much, it was unquestioned. It was a given. I’m not explaining it very well, I guess.”

  “Well, give an example. Loved you how? Gave you a Corvette on your sixteenth birthday? What?”

  He laughed. “No. Although they were complete push-overs when it came to material things. I had a lot of friends, rich friends, whose parents used their wealth to try to control them. Get perfect SAT scores and then you can have a Corvette. That kind of thing. With my parents, there was none of that. If I wanted a Corvette, they would’ve given me a Corvette. They just felt at some deep level that their money was my money. It should have made us more spoiled, but oddly I think it had the opposite effect. It was like, no I don’t want a Corvette. Thanks. I’m good. It was probably some kind of elaborate reverse psychology, but it worked.”

  “Come on. I bet you took the Corvette.”

  “Actually, it was a Porsche, but okay. I did. What the hell, I was sixteen. I was desperate to look cool.”

  “And were these perfect parents of yours pissed when you totaled it?”

  “I didn’t say they were perfect. Far from it. But they were,” he hesitated, “constitutionally incapable of being disappointed in their kids. That was really what was so incredible.”

  Her limbs were entwining with his, her head on his chest, his hands running through her hair. Parental love might be a mystery to her, but sex she was finally getting. She practically purred with contentment at this physical closeness and to keep this moment going, she urged him on with questions, although she couldn’t care less about parental love right now. “I don’t get it,” she murmured.

  “Well, for instance, I was the only son. My father ran the family company and his father before him did and so on. So there were a lot of expectations for me early on. A lot of assumptions.”

  “Mmm.” Her eyes closed.

  “But when it became abundantly clear I was the goof-off and my big sister was the CEO-in-training, my parents switched gears and were just fine with that. As a matter of fact, by the time they were done they usually had themselves convinced that was what was for the best, what they’d wanted, all along. They loved my ‘free spirit’ and it wasn’t even like it was a consolation prize. They were proud of Virginia, but it wasn’t to the exclusion of me.”

  He was talking softly and she didn’t know what he was envisioning as he spoke. The situation was completely foreign to her. As if he had said he’d grown up on Mars with space creatures. “Hmm, they sound too good to be true,” she couldn’t help herself from saying.

  “They weren’t. But they were pretty damn good. I love my sisters, but it’s not the same. I miss my parents. We all do. Probably always will.”

  His faraway voice, his vision of these space alien loving parents, was ruining her moment. And suddenly, what she didn’t have, could never have, was making her angry. “Well, don’t worry,” she snapped. “I’m sure you’ll see them in heaven.”

  Shoot. Sarcasm was practically dripping off that comment. She snuggled closer, hoping Brendan in his la-la land of perfect families, hadn’t noticed.

  But he heard it that time. Still for a moment, he then kissed the top of her head lightly. “I’m sorry.”

  She sat up abruptly, pushing him away. “Stop saying that,” she snapped.

  Man, she was so far off the reservation from being dream girl bait for this guy, it wasn’t funny.

  “Okay. I’m not sorry you apparently had shitty parents. Is that better?”

  Chapter Five

  She looked like some little wild thing, glaring at him, with her hair down to her waist, fluffy from their lovemaking, and her chest heaving. Or at least a Playboy Playmate version of a little wild thing. How was a guy ever going to get annoyed with a girl who looked like this, especially when she was naked?

  And how the hell had he gotten off on that tangent about his parents? He rarely talked about them with people outside the family, and never, to his memory, with a girl. But holding her like that, here in the Cayman house, and finding she’d never had sex before, it just kind of flowed together in some crazy way.

  As soon as he realized that he had taken her virginity, all thoughts of her having any involvement in the burglary went right out of his head. This girl was more innocent than he’d thought, not more guilty.

  And now, as she glared up at him, naked, he should be focusing on the fact that she was so kooky she wouldn’t tell him her last name, took ridiculous chances like swimming out to God knows where and had had such a bizarre childhood that she managed to remain a virgin until her twenties even though she looked like a fucking sex goddess. But he wasn’t. His brain wasn’t functioning enough to take all that in, let alone respond appropriately to it. No nice guy comforting about her childhood, whatever. Staring at her naked, he had room in his tortured brain for only one thing with this girl right now. Fucking.

  Disgusted with himself, he got out of bed.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Come on. Let’s take a swim. If I can trust you not to swim out to Cuba again, that is. You’ve worn me out. I can’t chase you this time.”

  She got out of bed, wrapping the sheet around her, which he actually thought was kind of sweet. “Let me just go get my suit.”

  He tugged the edge of the sheet away from her and let it drop. “Not necessary. There really is nobody around now. Let’s go skinny-dipping.” At her doubtful look, he crooned, “It’s a wonderful night for a moon-dance…”

  “You have a nice voice. Have you ever thought of doing anything with it?”

  “Like what? Form a rock band? Talk about clichéd rich guy.”

  He took her hand, leading her naked downstairs. “Or maybe join a choir?” he teased. “But I’m afraid my masculinity couldn’t take that assault.”

  She shook her head reprovingly as he opened the door wall and walked her out to the beach. He loved to swim naked and this late in the night no one really was bound to wander down the beach. It was kind of cute how she was crossing the arm he wasn’t holding across her breasts to shield them. She’d seemed confident with her body when they were in his room at Bransport, her carriage perfect, but now she seemed shier. It was hard to believe she really had been a virgin. He was still absorbing it.

  The ocean was still pretty warm as they walked into the waves, hand in hand. When it was waist high, he fe
ll into it, turning onto his back and bringing her into the circle of his arms. They floated for a while, her back to his front, until he began to kiss her neck and then turned her around and devoted himself to her lips. Standing in the water, the waves lapping at them, he kept both his arms around her waist at first, but the temptation was too great. Slowly, as the kiss got deeper, he brought one hand up to her breast, feeling the supple heft of it with his palm. She put her arms around his neck, arching into him, pulling him closer, and he steered her back to the shore. Engrossed in their kissing, the waves made them stumble and reluctantly he pulled away.

  “If you haven’t seen The Godfather, I take it you haven’t seen From Here to Eternity either.”

  “Of course I have. Now that’s a classic. That’s romantic.”

  “Hey, The Godfather’s not romantic?” He laughed. “Well, actually, you got me there. But what I was going to say is despite what Deborah Kerr and Burt Lancaster made it look like, making love on the beach is a little more gritty than that in real life. I know, I’ve tried it.”

  “You’ve probably tried everything,” she said softly, but it didn’t sound like much of a compliment.

  “I know. I’m a slut.” He kissed her wet shoulder. “You’ll have to reform me.”

  “I wouldn’t even try.”

  “In that case, let’s go inside and I can show you a little more of what I’ve learned.”

  They walked into the house together, arm in arm, wet still from the ocean. He reached into a side closet by the door and took out a huge fluffy towel, wrapping her in it as they both wiped their feet on the mat.

  “Is that good enough?” she asked. “I don’t want to trail sand in the house.”

  “Beach house, Sophia. That’s what it’s all about. That’s why there are no carpets, just tile and hard wood. Besides, you could trail in a sand box full and I’d still want to take you upstairs.”

  She laughed.

  “But you’re right. Maybe we should stay down here a while.” He picked her up in his arms and brought her to the low granite counter separating the kitchen from the main great room. As he deposited her on the counter, he spread the towel out around her and then stood between her open legs to kiss her some more. This time, his lips wandered down, kissing the satiny skin of her breasts for a while and then going farther down.