“Yes.” Her head falls back, lengths of pink and blonde collapsing over my arms. I want her hair to be the only thing draping her.
I’m going to make this woman want me so bad she begs for mercy.
She glances at the bed, gaze bright with trepidation and heat. It’s not the look of someone who routinely has hay-sex. Fleetingly, I think it’s the look of someone so innocent she’d still bob for apples during harvest kids’ games.
I lift her abruptly off the floor. She’s light and instinctively locks her legs around my waist. In two strides, I’ve got her on the bed, excitement puffing from her in small blows against my mouth. I don’t stop kissing her.
“I’m going to undress you,” I whisper. She nods against my mouth.
Hips raised, she helps me remove her shorts. The uncertainty in her eyes sucks the air out of me, because that’s pure beauty. I tell her and kiss down her stomach until I hit soft hair on her mound. Her knees close, trying to keep me out, but I growl a low “no” and slide my hands up the insides of her thighs so I can open her like a flower.
“Uh... embarrassing,” she whimpers. I glance up at that, surprised.
“Why?” I use my fingers, massage her lovely cleft between lips puffy with arousal. I slide up and down, up and down, until I narrow in circles over that nub I’ll be sucking in against my tongue.
Sylvia struggles. Squirming, she tries to speak up. There’s doubt in her movements, choice and no choice. I sink down, find her mouth again, because it’s where she’s the most comfortable. This girl kisses like she means it, and I want her to mean the rest too.
“Sylvia,” I breathe. “Tell me, beautiful. What is it that holds you back?”
Her hips work with me. Clearly, she’s close, and I don’t understand her hesitation. I slip a finger inside of her, causing a heart-stopping moan. She rocks up against me, contracting in small spasms around that one single finger.
“Oh baby,” I murmur. “You were that close?”
She wants my hand off her. Flushed, she blinks against me but averts her gaze when I let go and drop down on an elbow. I’m starting to grasp the problem.
“Sylvia. Answer me. What’s going on?”
She hides her face but doesn’t try to cover her private area.
“Would you rather not be here?” I pry her hands off her eyes.
Sylvia shakes her head.
“No? You want me to take you back to your room?”
“Noo, no, I want to be here.”
“What do you want to do then?” My balls hurt. “Watch TV?”
“Noo... I want to... be with you.” Suddenly, she lets out a hiccough. That’s a sound I only ever expect from people who cry. She definitely isn’t crying.
I gather her into my arms and lean us against the headboard. “You know what I think?”
She responds with another headshake but hides against my throat. Hell if that doesn’t make me want to protect her. Trapped! It’s just my kind of luck; sometimes the urge to protect becomes so big it overshadows everything.
“I think that you’re not used to having orgasms, Sylvia.”
“’Kay.” She muffles the word noncommittally.
“I think you just had your first one ever and you’re overwhelmed.”
Fuck, I’m in pain.
“’Kay...”
“And I think that you’ve never ever been made love to.”
She doesn’t reply.
“Breathe, Sylvia. Then speak up.”
And there she goes, being a good girl and breathing and telling me that everything I just said was true.
This guy must have that same cousin voodoo. Saw right through me like I’m a nineteen-year-old virgin. Just shoot me now, please.
I draw up my knees and bury my face, trying to hide the burn of embarrassment.
“It’s Dan’s fault,” I explain to my thighs.
I can’t believe Shandor isn’t running down the hall, hysterical with laughter. Something flutters low inside me when he responds with a gentle, “Dan?”
I bite my lip and nod, daring another look at him. Ugh, he’s so sexy. So used to groupies and flings and one-night-stands and all the things I thought I could give him but can’t. Because effin’ Dan!
“Who’s Dan?” he prods.
I swallow. “My ex-boyfriend. Four years through high school and we never, you know. Then he dumped me and… I dunno. Here I am. Dried up, old virgin. And now I’m totally screwed because what guy wants a girl who has no idea what she’s doing? I’ll be like the fifty-year-old dude skiing for the first time with all the little four-year-olds zipping around him at the beginners’ class! Who wants to ski with the fifty-year-old dude stumbling all over the side of the mountain?”
Is he laughing? Is that jerk actually laughing at me? I shoot an icy glare but soften at his amusement once I get a better read. It’s not a mocking chuckle, but adorable, like everything else he’s been since he found out.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t laugh,” he so astutely points out. “It’s just, come on. Dried-up, old virgin? You’re nineteen, not ninety. Give yourself a break.”
“Yeah but…”
“Look.” He shifts to face me and takes my hands. “Your first time is a big deal, okay? It obviously wasn’t the right time for you before. That’s nothing to be ashamed of just… you have to be honest to yourself about what you want. And also to the guy so he knows how to meet your needs.”
He slides off the bed and retrieves my underwear from the floor. My brain has stopped participating at this point and instinctively accepts the satin gift, sliding it over my hips. Next, he hands me the shorts, and suddenly reality snaps back into place.
“Shandor, wait.” His eyes fix on me as I push myself up and close the distance between us. Gosh, there’s nothing sexier than a guy who could have had everything and accepts nothing. “I want it to be you. I still want you.”
His expression shifts from confusion to concern to I don’t know what.
“I mean it. I’m sure. I want it to be you.”
It’s hard to convince a guy you “mean it” when you’ve spent the entire night trying to convince him you “meant” something else. But I do. I so do. I can’t explain it, but from the moment my eyes found this one, they lost focus on everything else.
“Sylvia…”
“I’m serious!”
“So let me get this straight. You want your first time to be with some guy you just met and know nothing about?”
“I know your name.”
“Say it.”
“Shandor.”
He slips his fingers under my chin, searching my eyes. “Last name.”
“Um…”
“Xodyar.”
I swallow.
“If I’m going to be your first, you’re going to at least know my full name.”
I sigh and make an attempt at the foreign syllables. His lips curve into the sweetest grin at my butchering, but I’m rewarded with a gentle kiss for my efforts.
“Xodyar,” he repeats, soft, hot breath against my hair. My body is pleading for him again. If all he wants is a name in order to feed this fire raging deep into my hips, then he’ll get a name.
“Xodyar,” I whisper.
His lips shift to mine once more, but the kiss is different this time. It’s not demanding, not urgent, just a lazy exploration that leaves me panting when he pulls away and studies me. My heart stops as he takes a step back, eyes scanning slowly, considering.
Retreating? No! Is he going to make me beg? Because I actually think I would. But there’s no cruel glint or self-righteous critique in his face, just thoughtful amusement as he works something over in his mind.
“Tell you what,” he says. “We can do this, but you’re calling the shots.”
What part of “I have no clue
what I’m doing” is confusing for him?
“But…”
He silences me with those perfect fingers on my lips. I can’t help trapping them there, infusing my sincerity into a kiss. Geez, I must be making him crazy, but no more than what I’m feeling at the moment.
“It’s your way or not at all, got it?” he explains, so considerate I’m afraid I’m going to officially register as a ten-year-old in his eyes with honest-to-goodness tears. Orgasmic crying before sex. That would be a first.
“What do you want to do first?” he continues, his hands moving to my cheeks, tracing, inviting. This one’s easy even if it’s about to be the most awkward sentence of all time.
“I want you to take your shirt off… I mean! See you. I want to see you.”
Oh god. I have to be burning red. But he has mercy with only a brief flicker of a smile before following my orders. And there it is. That pulsating need again, hammering through my body as he drags the fabric from his torso. The vision that follows sends the blood straight from my face to somewhere way more dangerous.
I forget all about my embarrassment and transform into a little moth who just has to touch, touch, touch that deadly flame. I can hear his own breath catch as my fingers spread over his naked abs, sliding up to well-defined pectorals. Exploring, seeking, there’s freaking pain from the longing and it intensifies my tracks on his skin from timid to downright desperate.
“What’s next, Sylvia?” he breathes. “Tell me what you want next.”
Sounds come out of my mouth but nothing I understand so I know he doesn’t. His body has me all kinds of disoriented. I just want. Everything. All at once. Every inch of him over me, under me, inside me. I finally find the waist of those jeans and thumb the button with careless abandon, wondering if this patience is wrecking him as much as me.
I don’t release the clasp, though, but use my grip to tug him against me instead. I briefly recall the feeling of Dan’s hard desire pressing into my hips, but he didn’t know what to do with it. Eventually, he decided he’d rather figure that out with Missy Freaking Fellowitz. I don’t mind. Missy would scratch my eyes out to swap places right now.
My fingers return to the security of Shandor’s neck and pull his lips back to mine so I can revisit that one place I feel I can be enough for him. “There’s something else you need to know,” I gasp between kisses.
“What’s that?” he returns without even pausing in his intoxicating dance with my mouth.
“Well, technically, my name isn’t Sylvia.”
I draw away enough to search her eyes. They gleam with heat in the soft light. “What do you mean your name isn’t Sylvia? You’ve got an alias?”
She huffs a little. It would be a laugh if she weren’t so aroused. “No, it’s Sylvie. You got it wrong, and I didn’t want to correct you. That’s all.”
I dip back in again, finding her lips parting, her tongue responding to mine, wet, soft, igniting everything in me. “Sylvie...” I hum, and she whimpers in response.
“I like Sylvie. Don’t let me call you something you’re not.” The words are unnecessary—she’s already corrected me. “Don’t ever change who you are, no matter what life throws at you. I love who you are.”
“Mm, so serious. Weren’t we doing adult stuff?”
“Yes, let’s adult. Where were we? Or where were you? I think you stopped.” I utter the words between kisses. It’s impossible to stop kissing her mouth. I’ve never felt anything like this before. Jesus, this isn’t the love fire, is it?
The love fire runs in the Xodyar clan. It devours with its intensity, an obsession only a Gypsy can feel once he has laid eyes on his beloved. Nothing can eliminate it. It doesn’t even die with death. The only cure is to live happily ever after with her, so—Yep!—if a nineteen-year-old virgin from Canada happened to be my love fire, I’d be toast, done for, screwed to hell and back.
“I... don’t know what I want though. What should I do next?” she whispers. Eyes big, beautiful, and shifting over my body. She’s shy again.
“Do you want me like this? Dressed?” I specify, holding back a small smile.
She giggles at that, realizing it would defeat our purpose. “No...”
I lean back on my elbows, watching her sit up over me. Tentatively, her hand moves to my belt, and I nod in encouragement. I watch her unbuckle it, and her fingers tremble. I close my eyes briefly, because the pleasure of her touch is already damn intense. She glances up to be sure that she’s doing it right.
“You’re great at unbuckling belts.” I tilt her a grin, and her touch becomes more certain as she pops the button and rips the zipper open. She pulls in a deep gasp when my cock strains against the fabric of my boxers, wanting to greet her in a vertical salute.
“Have you seen one before?” I ask her softly.
She shakes her head. But then she nods too, color flooding to her cheeks. “Not in real life.”
My pitch deepens when I continue, “Is tonight a good night to change that?”
“Yeah.”
“Go ahead then. Free him.”
I help her pull my shorts down, but I don’t change my position on the bed. Anything not to startle her. With my shorts off, my dick isn’t going to remain under the lining. The bulb of its head pokes out, and I do nothing about it. Her call.
She’s breathing faster, and god that is hot. Cautiously, one small hand flutters toward me. She peeks up for permission.
“Oh believe me, he wants your touch,” I say gruffly. “He doesn’t bite either.”
Disappointment hits me when she withdraws her hand, until I realize it’s just to cover her mouth while she laughs. Brave, she lowers on her hands and knees and shifts closer. Before I know it, she inhales deeply and folds my boxers down. Oh relief!
“Goodness,” she whispers. I make short work of my underwear, kick it off me, and here I am, ready for whatever she’s got in mind.
“Scary?” I ask.
“No... just crazy. Like an alien or something.”
“You need to work on your sexy-talk.”
“A... very hot alien... penis.” She’s flushed again. I can tell there’s some internal dialog going on in her head in which she’s beating herself up. It would have been funny if I weren’t so desperate to have her hands on me.
“Please, Sylvie,” I grit out. “If you want to— Please feel free to touch him.”
“How?”
“Do exactly, exactly what you want to him.” Frustrated, I scrunch my eyes shut and thump the back of my head into the pillow. I have to admit it’s a good frustrated. It seems we’re doing delayed gratification after all.
“Whoa!” I grunt, my hips bowing off the mattress.
What the hell. Is she—?
No way.
I groan again, unable to absorb this turn of events.
I’m not holding back now. This girl, she’s so freaking full of surprises. My hips move automatically, working with her, meeting her mouth. “You weren’t even going to touch it first?” I don’t recognize my own voice.
“Too much?” she asks, pitch husky. “I just... felt like it.”
“No! No, not too much, perfect. Oh you’re perfect. So perfect, and god you’re fucking killing me. Stop.”
My hands go into her hair. The last thing I want is to come in her mouth. She sucks me like a lollipop, like I’m her favorite flavor and she’s trying to coat her tongue with all my sugar. Just—fu-u-uck.
She doesn’t stop. I don’t stop her. Instead my hands help her. With my stomach, I lift up enough to see her bob over me. She’s doing it, oh she’s bobbing, and good lord that is a gorgeous sight.
“Enough!” I practically drag her off me. Sylvie’s eyes are liquid with desire when they meet mine.
“But it’s nice.”
“Shh,” I pull her toward me, hands around her face
, and kiss her deeply. I inhale sharply through my nose as I do, still holding back the urge to come on the spot. “It’s not what we’re doing tonight. I want tonight to be about you.”
“It is. I... liked doing that.”
Unreal. Lovely. Perfect. Love fire.
Shut up, Shandor.
I sink down on my back, pulling her with me. I still need her in charge, but it’s time I steer her efforts. She lies down on top of me, instinctively pressing herself against me. Oh she’s a natural. So many hottest things ever tonight.
I cup her ass and bring her upward on my body. She doesn’t understand, so I whisper, “Come to my mouth, baby. Higher.”
She scrambles to do what I ask for, eager but clumsy. Those panties are still on, so when I’ve got her close enough, I move the fabric to the side and devour heaven, first with my eyes, then with my mouth.
Oh such a quick study. Soon, she rocks in time with my hands, small pants of pleasure escaping her as I swirl, suckle, and press her down on me when she doesn’t want to stay there anymore.
“Don’t hold back, Sylvie,” I murmur. “You won’t run out of orgasms.”
My good girl, my beautiful girl, she listens again, and then she does. She rides it.
All the way out.
My limbs tremble. My body feels weak as I collapse in recovery from some souped-up firework display. Not the illegal lame ones my Aunt Hilda did to impress us cousins, either. The real kind. The ones that require permits and a solid police presence.
“You okay?”
No. Not even a little bit, but that’s not true either. I’m so okay and not okay my brain has stopped processing extra stimuli. It especially can’t deal with the Greek god of a man beneath me. Forget about the gazillion things he makes me feel at the same time.
“Sylvie, hey. What is it?”
I bite my lip and shake my head. I can’t handle his gentle side right now.
“Um— I have to go to the bathroom!” It comes out in far fewer syllables than it should as I dart toward the door and slam it shut. My breathing is still rough. Whether from what my body just did to me or the resulting sprint, I have no idea. All I know is that I love him. I love that man and for absolutely no reason that is going to hold up in a court-of-Holland. She is going to ka-ill me. And that’s not even the worst of it.
Sylvie + Shandor (Rocker Shenanigans Book 1) Page 5