James: A College Girl Romance

by Sheila Grace

  Despite the sharp stab of pleasure that had coursed through me the moment his teeth had sunk into my lower lip, I knew I was way out of my depth. Here I was sitting in his lap like I was about to give him a lap dance. In reality, my experience with men was limited to a few drunken make-out sessions in clubs during college. When I tried to launch myself out of his lap, his hand around my waist tightened, pulling me back until I could feel the hard length of him pressed up against me.

  “Let me go,” I rasped.

  I felt his breath at my ear.

  “Is that what you want?”

  His other hand came up, his fingers lightly trailing across the top of the dress. My breathing stuttered and then sped up.

  “Tell me,” he said more sharply. “Do you want me to release you?”

  His thumb began tracing over the material of my dress. I felt my nipples tighten against the silky material of the corset. When his other hand came up and teased along my jaw, I shuddered and shook my head.

  “No, I don’t want you to let me go,” I admitted.

  It was true—and it pissed me off. Despite the fact that I thought he was a borderline sociopath, I didn’t want him to stop touching me.

  “Good,” he said.

  He suddenly pinched my nipples, hard enough to send another unfamiliar jolt of pleasure straight between my legs. When I gasped, he brushed my hair over my shoulder and began to unzip my dress.

  “Lean forward, lovely.”

  “Why?”

  My question came out breathy and suspicious.

  “Because I’m going to extricate you from your torture device.”

  I looked down self-consciously at the corset as the front of my dress fell into my lap.

  “Unless you planned on sleeping in it?” he asked humorously.

  Leaning forward, I felt him undo the ribbon at the bottom of the corset, loosening the garment. His fingers were quick and sure, and before I knew it, he had reached around and was unhooking the metal clasps at the front. When the stiff material fell away, I shivered and closed my eyes. Then his hands were on me, caressing circles around my breasts, closer and closer to my nipples, until I was whimpering, throbbing, and on the brink of begging.

  “Have you touched yourself, Cass?” he breathed in my ear.

  My eyes snapped open. I hadn’t expected a question like that.

  “Of-of course,” I stammered.

  I was pretty fucking good at it, too, but I wasn’t going to tell him that.

  “From now on, I’m the only one who touches you.” His lips grazed my ear again. “I’m the only one who makes you come.”

  Before I could muster any indignation or form an argument, his hands slid from my breasts to my waist and he lifted me until I was standing. My dress fell to the floor, and suddenly all I was wearing was stockings, garters, a pair of black lace panties, and silver stiletto heels.

  “Very nice,” he said with a sly appreciation that made me blush.

  I stepped away from him, but he was too fast. His arm snaked around my waist, pulling me back into his lap. His lips skimmed the side of my neck as his hands slid from my waist to the tops of my thighs. I started to shake as his fingers continued to tease my skin. His touch slowly moved up, his left hand grasping my hip as his right began to part my legs. When I squirmed, his lips touched my ear.

  “I’m going to make you come harder than you ever have.”

  My breath left me as his fingers skimmed the elastic of my panties before slipping beneath the lace. I shivered and my eyes closed as his fingers parted me. His middle finger teased a circle around my clit before he brushed over me so softly that I cried out. He did it again and again, softer and softer, until I was ready to scream. When he finally stroked directly over the tender spot, my hips jerked forward. Each touch forced a whimper from my lips.

  “Does that feel good?” he breathed in my ear.

  I swallowed and tried to catch my breath.

  “Tell me, Cass.”

  His stroke became rougher, making the pleasure spiral faster and higher.

  “Please …” I begged.

  Just before I could come, he stopped. His hand slipped out of my panties, leaving me breathless with need. He stood, taking me with him, and turned with me in his arms. When he lowered me onto the bed, I was past the point of regret.

  I watched him loosen his tie and kick off his shoes. Then he came down beside me. I didn’t know what to expect as he bent down and touched his lips to mine. His kiss was soft this time. Then the tips of his fingers grazed over the silken panties, and I sucked in a quick breath as his fingers trailed down, pressing the material against me. Every nerve ending in my body felt like it was on fire, each caress bringing me higher.

  Finally, he dipped beneath the material again, stroking me faster until my breath hitched in my chest. He brought me closer and closer, slowing each time before I could come. I closed my eyes, biting down hard on my lip as the pleasure increased to the point of pain.

  “James.”

  “You’re so close,” he growled. “How long do you think I can keep you on the edge?”

  He stopped again, and I blinked up at him.

  “Please,” I begged.

  “You don’t know how badly I want to see you come,” he said as his finger tortured me.

  He began kissing the sensitive spot just below my ear. I was trembling, aching, and desperate for release. He lifted his head and watched me as his touch quickened again. My hips rocked as the pulsing heat building between my legs became too much. I closed my eyes. I needed to come.

  “Oh god,” I whimpered.

  “Has anyone been inside you?”

  I blinked up at him in shock. Before meeting James McDevitt, I had barely kissed anyone—and definitely not like this. I shook my head.

  “No, I told you. I’ve never—”

  When his fingers slipped down and pressed gently against me, I gasped.

  “I need to feel how wet you are,” he said roughly. “I need to know how tight you are before I fuck you for the first time. I want to feel you coming.”

  The ache between my legs became unbearable, and my hands gripped the comforter.

  “Do you want that, Cass?”

  I swallowed, my breathing still uneven as he stared down at me.

  “Will I—will I still be a virgin?”

  I closed my eyes and shook my head. I couldn’t believe I had just asked that.

  “I don’t count it until I’ve buried my dick in you and fucked you until you can’t think straight.”

  My pulse jumped. Then he winked, and I almost laughed. Almost. His finger began teasing my clit again, rougher this time. When he stopped—again—I nearly screamed.

  “You never answered me, lovely.”

  His finger carefully brushed across my clit again. Fuck. He was killing me—and I was desperate. I wanted—needed—to feel him filling this aching, hollow feeling building between my legs.

  “Yes,” I panted. “I want to feel you inside me.”

  His expression changed, his eyes darkening, if that was even possible. It felt like I was drowning in their darkness. He began stroking me again, slowing each time I got closer to the edge—until I was whimpering incoherently. I had never felt anything this intense, throbbing pleasure so close to pain. I moved my hand down to help things along, but he stopped abruptly and grabbed my hand.

  “No,” he growled.

  He sat up and began unhooking the garters before slowly inching them down my legs. He pulled off the heels one at a time. Then I felt his hands at my hips as he slid my panties down my thighs, past my knees, and then over my ankles.

  Part of my brain was screaming that I was on a bed—naked—with a man who, for all intents and purposes, had purchased me. But my body didn’t care. I had never been this turned on before. Most guys I had gotten even remotely close to, physically speaking, had reeked of cheap beer, sweat, and bar funk—an easy combination to resist after they had tried shoving their tongue
s down my throat in the middle of a club. As he came down beside me, James smelled good, like mint and some unfamiliar, hypnotic aftershave.

  “Beautiful,” he said as his fingers caressed along the side of my face.

  He parted my legs and moved until he was kneeling between them. He stared down at me as his hands traced the sides of my neck, between my breasts, down my belly. When his finger slipped down between my legs again, the pleasure built immediately. I pressed my head into the bed and writhed under his touch.

  “James.”

  I didn’t even recognize my own voice. Then I felt his finger press gently against me.

  “Yes. Cass, you’re so wet right now.”

  My eyes popped open. He stared down at me as he pressed into me just a fraction. When I winced at the thickness of his finger, he pulled out slowly before doing it again and again until my hips began to rock against him.

  “So fucking tight,” he said as he pushed deeper.

  I bucked against him and closed my eyes as he thrust all the way. The pressure was almost too much. His lips came down on mine as he pushed a second finger into me, driving into me faster, stretching me. His tongue thrust into my mouth, matching the rhythm of his fingers. The dual invasion made me cry out. When his thumb swept roughly over my clit, the pleasure built until I couldn’t hold back. My eyes closed my orgasm exploded.

  Then his his fingers curled inside me, caressing a spot that forced me to come even harder. It was like nothing I had ever felt. He stroked me until little sounds escaped my lips as I rode his fingers. He continued until I sobbed and collapsed onto the bed. I only opened my eyes when his lips brushed my forehead. I winced as his fingers began to withdraw.

  “That was beautiful, and you are going to be one incredible fuck.”

  I shook my head.

  “You know just what to say to a girl to sober her up.”

  Still dizzy, I began to sit up and draw my arm over my chest. Before I could wriggle away, James pushed me back onto the bed and caught my wrist in his hand.

  “If you can still speak in full sentences, then I haven’t done my job.”

  He jerked his tie off with one hand, and before I could break free from him—if that was even possible—he had the tie looped around my wrist. Then he grabbed my other wrist and tied them together.

  “This isn’t funny,” I hissed.

  “You’re right.”

  He pushed me back on the bed.

  “Are you always such a chauvinist?” I snapped.

  He smiled as his hands caressed up my legs.

  “For the record, I don’t think men are superior to women; therefore, by definition, I can’t be a chauvinist.”

  “All right,” I huffed. “You’re an egotistical bastard, then.”

  “Guilty as charged.”

  It was impossible to insult this asshole. He either welcomed the aspersion, or he decimated my accusation with an obnoxiously infallible rebuttal. I squeaked when he grabbed my ankles and dragged me until I was at the edge of the bed.

  “What are you—”

  “Shhh.”

  As soon as he began to part my knees, I struggled. Then I felt his fingers spreading me. His breath caressed me, and when his tongue stroked slowly around my clit, all the air rushed from my lungs. Holy fucking shit! My head dropped back onto the bed. He took one leg and then the other and hooked them over his shoulders.

  “Do you want more?”

  I raised my head and stared at him as he waited, poised between my legs. Feeling his fingers circling my entrance, I cursed silently.

  “Yes, goddammit.”

  He laughed quietly. Then, before I could catch my breath, his tongue plunged into me. My hips launched off the bed until his hands gripped me and held me perfectly still as his tongue flicked my clit. When his finger pressed into me this time, I arched against the grip of his other hand.

  His touch slowed, and he patiently began teasing me and then backing off until I was aching again. He stopped and stood. Suddenly he was loosening the tie wrapped around my wrists. He pulled me up onto the bed and came over me, easily holding himself up with one arm.

  I reached up and touched his bicep, wondering vaguely how long I could maintain plank position without falling on my face. Then my eyes widened in shock as he took my hand and placed it over his erection.

  My fingers automatically wandered up the rock-hard thickness jutting against the material of his pants, and I shook my head. If two fingers had stretched me to the limit—then no way. I couldn’t even close my grip around him. There was just no way. He was huge.

  “That’s why I’m taking it slow,” he said with another obnoxiously charming grin.

  Fucking asshole. How did he always know what I was thinking? My hand dropped away from him.

  “This is slow?” I asked disbelievingly.

  “For me? Glacially slow.”

  “Then why bother?” I snapped.

  He bent down and kissed me slowly, languorously as his hand trailed down my stomach, splaying out across the tender skin and making me shiver as goose bumps appeared. Then his hand slid lower, and when his middle finger brushed across my clit, I had to bite down on my lower lip to keep from moaning.

  Heat rose in my cheeks as he began stroking me faster. I had no idea how he knew exactly the right way to touch me, but within a few seconds I was at the edge again, panting and desperate.

  “You can’t even begin to imagine how badly I want to be inside you right now, Cass.”

  My breath caught as his finger began circling my clit faster, and I practically mewled with need.

  “That’s right. You’re going to come so hard. But first I want you to imagine the moment I take you for the first time.”

  My breath rushed out and I closed my eyes as my pleasure reached the breaking point, forcing a breathy cry from my lips as I came. His fingers pushed inside me, pumping in and out as my muscles squeezed against him. I shuddered, my legs tightening as the orgasm rolled all the way through me with frightening force.

  “Yes, Cass. Fuck. You are so goddamned beautiful when you come.”

  Just as I thought I was coming down, he curled his fingers into me, causing my body to tighten around him until I was completely exhausted and humming with an unfamiliar state of full-body bliss I had never felt before. When I opened my eyes, James was staring down at me.

  Without thinking, I reached up and brushed his jaw with my fingers. I jerked back as soon as I remembered the circumstances of the most incredible back-to-back orgasms I had ever had—not to mention the first time someone else’s touch had made me come. James grasped my hand and drew it to his mouth, brushing my knuckles with his lips.

  I stared up at him and tried to sort out what I was feeling. He had made me come harder than I had thought possible. That was it. Nothing to get emotional over. At least that was what I was going to tell myself over and over until it sank in.

  “This is strange,” I muttered.

  I struggled to sit up.

  “What is?”

  “Multiple orgasms with a virtual stranger.”

  “I imagine sex with a virtual stranger is a normal night out for a lot of people, minus the multiple orgasms,” James said.

  Whenever Vicki talked about her boyfriend, I got the distinct feeling that he got off more than she did—if she got off at all. Not that she ever said anything directly, but I was willing to bet that James McDevitt was either a more skilled or more generous—or both—sexual partner than most guys I had run into.

  It wasn’t that hard to determine that the guys who tried jamming their tongues into my mouth as they rammed my pelvic bone with their hard-ons in the middle of a club weren’t going to be the world’s best sexual partners.

  When James rose lithely from the bed and walked over to pour more champagne, I realized he was still in his suit from dinner. Part of me was itching to get him undressed just to make sure the washboard abs I remembered were real. Really, though, I wanted to see him naked �
�� even if I knew better.

  While he was standing at the wet bar with his back turned, I jumped up and rushed—naked—down the hall to the second bedroom with all the shopping bags. I rummaged through them until I found a lace-trimmed slip. I yanked it over my head and then paused at the sound of music drifting from the other room.

  Fade Into You by Mazzy Star? Fucking really? I gritted my teeth and resisted the urge to run into the other room and kick James McDevitt’s ass. The only problem? He was a foot taller than I was and outweighed me by a hundred pounds or so, but still. Asshole! Why did he have to be so damn charming?

  I walked back down the hall and into the main bedroom. He was on the bed, sitting back against the headboard, wearing a pair of grey pajama pants, no shirt. I smirked. Well, I had gotten half my wish—and yep, he totally had washboard abs. Fucker. He patted the spot on the bed next to him and gestured to the flutes of champagne sitting on the nightstand. Then he pointed at his lap.

  “Modest enough for you?”

  I nodded primly. I was secretly happy that I could get another look at the multitude of Latin inscriptions on his torso—if only I could manage to take my eyes off the distractingly large bulge in his pants.

  “Flimsy enough for you?” I asked, gesturing to my nightie.

  “Absolutely not. I preferred naked.”

  I walked over and took a flute of champagne before sitting at the edge of the bed.

  “Mind if I ask you a personal question?” I asked.

  James smiled charmingly.

  “Whatever you’d like. I am at your service, lovely.”

  I blushed and looked down at my glass.

  “I—well, I kind of thought that if you paid women for their company, then you would—”

  “Not care about the other person’s gratification?”

  “Yeah, I mean, in my limited experience, guys don’t care so much about—”

  He started laughing.

  “Oh, lovely. For shame. Are you comparing me to drunken frat boys?”

  I smirked again.

  “You were one once, weren’t you?”

  “A long time ago, and I’ve learned a hell of a lot since then.”

  I blinked at the reminder of the chasm between us. There was no question I was an adult, but he was a fully functioning adult. Undergraduate degree, advanced degree, money, job. He had all these things, while I was struggling just to finish my undergrad degree.