Be Mine: A Valentine’s Collection of Sexy Short Stories by Six NYT Bestselling Authors

by A Collection of Valentine Themed Sexy Short Stories (epub)

  She shakes her head, her long dark hair falling over one cheek. "I don't want to talk about it." Her voice is a little hoarse.

  "Are you okay?" I ask. I grew up as an only child, just me and my dad, and have next to no experience with crying females.

  She shakes her head.

  Fuck.

  "Is it something with Tyler?"

  She bites her lip, looking down into the bubbling water. "Tyler who?"

  Well I guess that answers that. "Get your suit on. Come get in," I say.

  Thinking it over, she nods, and disappears back into the house.

  A minute later, she's back and dressed in a skimpy white bikini that looks amazing against her honey-colored skin. She's carrying two bottles of beer. She hands them to me, then slips in beside me.

  Isla makes a small noise of pleasure as she sinks into the water.

  I open the first beer, and hand it to her.

  "Thanks," she says, voice soft.

  She brings it to her lips, and they press together, the delicate column of her throat working as she swallows.

  I clear my throat and avert my eyes as she leans back, exposing the tops of her luscious breasts that spill over the top of the bikini.

  This was not my best idea.

  I open the second bottle and take a long drink, trying to quench the sudden thirst I have.

  "Want to talk about it?" I ask.

  I kind of hope she doesn't, but I'm trying to be the grown-up in this situation.

  "Tyler broke up with me," she says before taking another small sip of her beer.

  Shit. I'm not equipped to handle teenage drama. Granted, she's only a couple of years younger than me, but still.

  "I'm sorry," I say.

  Isla waves me off. "He said I wasn't experienced enough." She makes air quotes as she says this, scoffing like she’s annoyed.

  Okay not the conversation I wanted to be having with her tonight, but fuck it. The least I can do is listen. Maybe try to offer a little advice. “So what happened?”

  "I was going to go all the way with him on Valentine's Day. My V-card on V-day. I thought that'd be romantic."

  I almost choke on the beer in my throat. Valentine's Day is next weekend, and I do not like the idea of her giving it away to some undeserving prick. Recovering, I cough once into my fist and then look over at Isla. "I guess you dodged a bullet then."

  She looks at me like I've sprouted a second head. "Not hardly. If I want to be able to keep a boyfriend, I need more experience in the bedroom, not less."

  I turn to face her. "This guy is obviously a tool, Isla. Anyone who tells you that you're not good enough isn't someone you want to be with. Any guy would be lucky to have you."

  Her lips twitch with the hint of a smile, and I fear I've said too much.

  "Can I ask you something?" she says.

  "Sure." I nod.

  "It's about, um, sex stuff." Her cheeks flush the slightest bit, and I'm pretty sure it's because of whatever's running through that inquisitive brain of hers and not an effect of the hot water.

  "Uh." My brain short-circuits momentarily as I struggle to find a reason this conversation shouldn't be happening right now.

  "I know you've had sex with at least four girls," she adds, her tone certain, a little bossy.

  I almost chuckle, then catch myself. "Do you now?"

  My number is easily north of twenty, but I'm not going to correct her.

  "Yup. That girl Chloe you dated your freshman year, and then Tessa, sophomore year.” She ticks them off on her fingers. “Then Bethany who you brought home for Thanksgiving—you said she was just a friend, but I heard noises coming from your bedroom that night."

  Bethany was just a friend. She also gave great head.

  "Okay so maybe I haven't been a saint, but I'm trying to be a good brother here."

  Isla makes a noise of disagreement. "You are not my brother. Gross, Morgan. I'm just asking for some pointers, that's all."

  "Fine, what do you want to know?"

  She takes a long drink of her beer before setting it on the edge of the hot tub. "I think part of the problem is that I … um, never made Tyler come."

  "Yeah, I'm not talking about this." I rise to my feet, and swing one leg over the side of the hot tub to climb out. Isla reaches out to stop me, her warm palm connecting with my abs. There are six of them, all clearly defined; I work hard to keep it that way, and they tighten when her fingers drag across them.

  A bolt of electricity zings through me, snapping south.

  She swallows, and pulls her hand away, as if realizing she's touching my bare skin. I've always been careful around her, and I can see now that getting into a hot tub while drinking probably wasn't a good judgement call on my part. My bad.

  It's time to go inside. Possibly take a cold shower. Or perform a lobotomy so I can erase this conversation from my brain.

  2

  After my shower, I’m only slightly more clearheaded. I’m not proud to admit that I also had to jack off, but it is what it is. And I’m trying not to feel weird about that.

  I mean, Isla’s not family. She’s just a hot as fuck nineteen-year-old with great tits who wants to drink my beer, prance around in a bikini and talk to me about sex. And as I said, I’m not a saint.

  After dressing in black athletic shorts and a white T-shirt, I make my rounds through the house, locking doors and turning off the lights. It’s not even ten yet, but I’m guessing both Isla and I are ready to turn in for the night, considering she’s not in the hot tub anymore. I wonder if she showered. I wonder if she got herself off.

  Not your business, man.

  Deciding that I need to be the one to be the adult in this situation, I climb the stairs and head across the hall to Isla’s bedroom rather than my own. The door is closed, and I knock twice.

  After a few moments, it opens and Isla stands before me dressed in a baggy sweatshirt that’s falling off one shoulder and a tiny pair of pink boxer shorts that show off her long, toned legs.

  “Hey,” I say, voice coming out gruff. “You okay?”

  She lifts her bare shoulder, eyes on mine. “I guess.” Her eyes are such a pretty shade of blue. It’s one of the first things I noticed about her. They’re like the color of the sky after a storm. It’s striking.

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  Her fingers curl around the edge of the doorframe she’s leaning against. “I know. It was stupid of me to ask you. Of course you’re not going to help me.”

  Fuck. I feel like an asshole. I could at least talk to her, answer her sex questions, even if it is a little tense between us.

  “Listen, I overreacted before. Let’s talk, okay?”

  “Really?” Her full lips part and she smiles. “Thank you, Morgan!” She leaps up on her toes to throw her arms around me. She practically tackles me with her excitement.

  I bring one muscled arm around her trim waist, feeling for the first time how well she fits against me, then quickly release her.

  She leads the way into her room and I sit down on the bed. I’ve never been in her room before. It’s not as girly as I expected. The walls are painted dark gray and her bedding is light gray and white. She’s hung a painting of a colorful llama on the wall across from her bed.

  “I love llamas,” she says when she catches me looking at it.

  “Who doesn’t?” I grin at her.

  Isla sits down on the bed across from me and crisscrosses her legs. I see of peek of her pale pink panties and quickly pull my gaze away.

  “So,” she straightens her posture like she’s a star pupil vying for the teacher’s attention. “As I was saying before. I think one of the reason’s Tyler broke up with me was because I never made him come.”

  I grit my teeth together. “Right.”

  She smiles. “I mean, I tried. Trust me I did. With my hands and my mouth.” But then she shakes her head, her smile falling away. “Not with my pussy though. I was saving it, as I mentioned, for Valentine’s Da
y.”

  I’ve died and gone to heaven. Or maybe this is hell? Because Isla is talking about using her hands and her pussy to get off her dickless ex and I want nothing more than to push her back on the bed and show her how easy it would be to make me come, in spite of my release not even fifteen minutes ago.

  Focus, Morgan.

  I clear my throat, realizing she’s waiting for me to say something—to impart some wisdom that will make sense of this crazy exchange between us.

  “Right. Well, it’s generally just a matter of pressure and speed. All guys are a little different, I’d imagine. But the idea is the same. You just need to communicate—find out what he likes and what feels good. Honestly, in my opinion he should have just showed you. He sounds like kind of an asshole, leaving you to guess.”

  At this, she chuckles, her cheeks flushing the slightest bit.

  “Maybe he had something wrong with him physically, Isla. Maybe it wasn’t you at all.”

  She puts her fingertip on her lips. “I never thought of that.”

  I nod. “You never know.” The guy sounds like a fucking douche, that’s for certain. Isla is sweet, and kind, and beautiful. And she was willing to give him her virginity. I’m suddenly glad she didn’t.

  She’s quiet for a minute, and I can’t help the next words that fall out of my mouth. “Did he ever get you off?”

  Those stormy blue eyes latch onto mine, and something inside me twists.

  “No.”

  My throat feels tight, and I draw a shallow breath. “Have you ever had an orgasm, Isla?”

  She nods. “With myself, yes. Never with anyone else. I think I get too self-conscious or something.”

  Damn. The idea of her making herself come is hot. “It could have been the same for him. Maybe he was just nervous.” I can’t believe I’m making excuses for this dickhead.

  “But you don’t have that problem,” Isla says, voice soft.

  She meets my eyes again, this time with a hungry look.

  Hungry for knowledge, Morgan, not your dick.

  Get your head in the game.

  “Sex has always kind of come naturally for me,” I admit.

  She chews on her lower lip, considering this. “How old were you when you lost your virginity?”

  I consider blowing off her question, but she’s been so open and honest tonight, I can’t bring myself to lie to her.

  “Fifteen,” I admit.

  “Wow!” She laughs. “Holy shit, Mor.”

  I chuckle. “Yeah. Freshman year of high school.” I also lasted about three seconds, but I don’t think I need to be quite that honest with her right now.

  Things grow quiet between us, so quiet that I can hear the steady thrum of her heartbeat as she sits across from me.

  She pushes out her tits, and fuck, I want them in my hands. In my mouth.

  My gaze drifts down to the front of her parted legs again and I catch another glimpse of her panties. I can’t help but wonder if her pussy’s wet right now.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  Of course it’s not. We’re just talking.

  “Morgan?” She raises up onto her knees and crawls closer to me until she places one hand flat against my chest. I can feel the heat of her skin searing me through the thin material of my T-shirt. “Don’t freak out, okay?”

  “Why’s that?” I ask, voice husky.

  “Because I want to try something, okay?”

  I don’t answer. I don’t move. I don’t even fucking breath as she lowers her plump mouth to mine and leans in for a kiss.

  I don’t respond right away, mostly because I’m completely stunned. But then Isla parts her lips and teases the seam of mine with her tongue. It’s instinct when my lips part and I touch my tongue to hers.

  She lets out a low groan, and I deepen the kiss.

  Then my brain snaps back on and I pull away, heart pounding. “We can’t.”

  She nods. “I know. I just wanted to see what it was like to kiss you.”

  “Why?” My brows crease.

  Isla licks her lips, her tongue touching where mine just was, and I feel a sudden pang of jealousy. “Because I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to be with a guy who knew what he was doing. And I can tell you do.”

  She’s not wrong. I know I could make her come. Probably in the next three minutes if I wanted to. But I won’t. Some lines cannot be crossed, no matter how close we’re skating to the edge.

  “Can you just tell me a little bit more about what you meant before about pressure … speed … I need to know how to make a guy come.”

  My eyes sink closed and I draw a frustrated breath. “Why don’t you just watch a porn video or something?” I suggest.

  Isla shrugs. “I have. But I really need some hands-on practice with an actual person.”

  My cock hardens, thickening against my thigh, and I pray she doesn’t notice that the motherfucker is practically standing at attention, volunteering to be tribute.

  And then everything changes with the next words out of my mouth.

  "One time and this never happens again."

  "Deal." She grins like she just won the fucking lottery.

  3

  Before I can reconsider, I draw my shorts down my hips and my cock springs free. Isla sucks in a sharp inhale, her eyes glued to my crotch.

  “Oh, it’s …”

  She doesn’t finish that sentence, but what she does do makes my toes curl. Running her palm lightly against my steely shaft, she traces her thumb along the crown.

  “How do I …” she starts.

  “Wrap it in your fist.” If I’d been uneasy at first, you wouldn’t know it. My voice comes out rough and commanding, and like a good little student, Isla aims to please, curling her hand around me firmly. Even tentative, her touch sends heat rioting through my veins.

  I wrap my hand around hers and demonstrate the motion, sliding slowly up, then down. “Like this,” I say, voice a harsh pant.

  She smiles at me shyly before those stormy eyes drop to my lap again. I try to see what she’s seeing—eight inches of swollen flesh pulses crudely inside her small fist.

  “It’s so much bigger than …” She grins, wickedly. “Never mind. I’ll stop talking now.”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose and exhale as her movements grow faster.

  It feels so good.

  “That’s it,” I encourage, my voice little more than a soft murmur.

  Before I can process what’s happening next, Isla lowers her head to my lap.

  A helpless eager noise pushes past my lips just as her tongue licks along the vein in my shaft.

  I watch in stunned fascination as she holds onto my cock and licks it like it’s her favorite flavor lollipop. One teasing lick along the crown, another slow lick down the side.

  It’s fucking torture.

  The best kind of torture.

  I grip the comforter in both fists, dropping back onto my elbows so I can watch her work me over.

  She takes her time, tasting me tentatively. It’s nice, but I want more. “Swallow it.”

  Her eyes snap up to mine, filled with questions.

  “The whole thing,” I say.

  She obeys, pushing her head down until I touch the back of her throat and she gags lightly around my length, withdrawing slowly.

  I curse, and take a shaky breath.

  “Like that?” she asks, coming up for air.

  There’s a smear of spit on her lower lip and I wipe it away with my thumb. “Yeah. Exactly like that.”

  “And that would make you come?”

  So fucking hard. “Yes.”

  “Even though I gagged?”

  Especially because you gagged. What the fuck is wrong with me that I like choking her with my dick?

  “Yes, Isla.”

  She goes back to work, lowering her mouth to my cock again, sucking me with such prideful determination it makes my abs tighten.

  Unable to resist touching her tempting body
any longer, I bring one hand under her sweatshirt and cup her warm tits in my hand. They’re bare and bouncing slightly with the motion of her movements. I tease and pinch her nipples as she sucks on my cock, earning me a whimpered moan that I feel deep in my balls.

  She lifts her eyes to mine and the pleasure I see reflected back at me makes my heart stutter. “If you come, do I swallow it … or?”

  For a second, I just stare at her. I want to say something flirty like spitters are quitters, but fuck, I can't do that. This is Isla. I'm already going to hell.

  "I can't let you make me come."

  "Can't let me? Why in the world not? Isn't that the entire point?" Her hand doesn't stop it's torment, slowly dragging up and down over my swollen cock. It feels incredible. "I told you I didn't know how to please my boyfriend and he broke up with me over it."

  Fuck. She's right. That was the entire point of this erotic affair. She said she wanted practice. I stupidly agreed to be her guinea pig.

  "Trust me, I'm close. You keep doing that, and I'm going to blow," I force out, a little breathless.

  She looks pleased with herself, a slight smile forming on those beautiful full lips of hers.

  “Fuck, Isla,” I groan, watching the way her hand moves. Her fist doesn’t even fully close around my thick shaft, and her thumb teases the precum at the tip on each upstroke.

  “Fuck, fuck,” I heave, pushing her hand out of the way to finish myself with short, choppy strokes as thick spurts of come pulse out, coating my hand and lower abs.

  “Oh,” Isla inhales, bringing her fingertip to the warm mess on my stomach and painting a distracting-as-fuck figure eight through it. “It’s so messy,” she murmurs, voice full of teasing pride.

  “Be right back,” I say, jumping up from the bed. I head into the adjoining bathroom and grab a wad of tissue which I use to clean myself up. Then I wash my hands and dry them on one of her towels.

  When I join her on the bed again, Isla has removed her shirt and all my resolve about stopping this weakens.

  “Jesus,” I groan, running one hand through my hair.

  Her tits are perfect, high and perky with pale peach-colored nipples. Isla makes room on the bed beside her and I sit down right next to her. “You’re beautiful,” I say, softly touching her. I still can’t believe she’s offering herself up this way. Her breasts are so full in my palms, and as I massage them, she makes a surprised noise of pleasure. What I really want to do is nuzzle them with my face, and suck them into my mouth, but I’m still testing the waters and trying to make myself go slow.