The Virgin Sex Queen (19 page)

Right now she
could barely think, not with Alan’s chest comfortably snugged
against her breasts, his position putting their faces close.
Luckily he had long arms or they’d be tongue-tied. Literally.

His eyes held a
hint of laughter, but something else, too. His hips were resting
against hers, his long legs resting between her thighs, which meant
that their bodies were pressed together from chest to groin. Yeah,
that other thing in his eyes was heat.

Even if she had
her notepad with her right now, she wouldn’t be able to get her
shaking fingers to hold a pen.

“Soph?”

“You’re wrong
about the second part,” she managed to croak out. “I don’t care
what you think of my opinion of myself.”

“You’ll be
wanting to change that,” he drawled, that same hint of danger of a
few minutes ago trickling through his mild tone. “Trust me.”

That just made
her tingle in all the wrong places. Forcing herself to concentrate
-
game face!
- she met his gaze as coolly as she could.

“Oh, don’t even
try that.” Amused, Alan lifted his other hand to push a lock of
hair back behind her ears.

The gesture was
unexpected, making her breath catch as a flicker of what could only
be called tenderness showed briefly in his eyes.

“I’m onto the
game face now, remember?” Pulling the lock of hair back over her
shoulder, he twirled his finger into it while shifting his gaze
back to look down at her. “So, Virgin Sex Queen, care to tell me
about it?”

If he kept
touching her, she’d melt into a puddle. Controlling her expression
wasn’t easy and regardless of his words, she kept her game face. It
was the only way she could answer without embarrassing herself.
“No.”

“Huh.” He
un-twirled the lock of hair and re-twirled it around his finger.
“Let me try, then.”

“Sure.” She
shrugged, a big mistake when it made her breasts rub against his
chest. Rub a little, huh, more like a massage because they were
mashed together. Delicious. She could feel every hard swell against
her soft curves and boy, was it doing things to her that she’d
treasure in her memory forever.
Keep cool! Keep cool!

Seemingly
unaffected, Alan looked her directly in the eyes. “You’re
reputation as an erotic writer stems from your façade as a woman
experienced in everything she writes. You’ve fed that belief until
everyone who reads your books thinks you’re this chick who has
personally experienced everything she’s written, every naughty,
decadent word. Right so far?”

“You’re telling
the story.”

“But Sophie
Willow, Sex Queen, has never made love to a bloke. Or even a
vibrator, for that matter.”

Her cheeks were
on fire. Jesus! He had heard everything!

“Sophie Willow
is a complete virgin. The Virgin Sex Queen, in fact.”

“Oh God, just
rub it in!”

“Sure.” He
rocked his hips against her, shocking her. “But can I finish my
story first? Then we can really rub.” He grinned. “And more.”

Speechless, she
could only stare up at him, belatedly remembering to instead switch
it to a glare.

“Your
reputation and career will suffer if it ever gets found out that
you are, in fact, a virgin. Untouched, pure, etcetera
etcetera.”

“Are you going
to blackmail me?” she demanded.

“Am I
right?”

“Yes, yes,
you’re right, okay? But only because you eavesdropped and knew the
whole bloody story anyway!”

“A good cop
always keeps his ear to the ground,” Alan replied smugly.

“So does a nosy
one. Are you going to blackmail me? Is that the plan here?”

“Not at
all.”

“I constantly
amuse you, don’t I? What am I, entertainment?”

“Yes, you do
amuse me sometimes,” he replied. “You make me laugh.”

Ouch.

“But you amuse
me in the nicest way, Soph.” Un-twirling the lock of hair from his
finger, he tucked it gently behind her ear before again meeting her
eyes. “You make me laugh in the nicest way, and I love it when you
laugh with me. I admit I like teasing you, I like seeing that spark
in your eyes. Your smart mouth and quick comebacks delight me. But
most of all…” His gaze wandered across her face.

The night was
suddenly still, the darkness seeming to envelope them in a private
little cocoon. He was close enough for her to see every line of his
face even with his back to the moonlight. Those firm, masculine
lips which she now knew could soften at all the right moments. His
straight nose, the firm jaw, and the thick eyelashes that hid those
dark eyes that darkened even more with delicious promises.

Then those
thick lashes lifted and those dark eyes were looking directly down
at her, and the promises in them were so very dark, so very
hot.

“But most of
all, Soph, I like you,” he said huskily.

Like was one
thing, but the like he was hinting at, the like glowing in his
eyes, the like she was seeing on his face, was not quite the same
kind of like she knew. His like was carnal.

“I like you
beneath me,” he whispered, leaning closer and closer still until
his mouth hovered just above hers, his breath sweeping out to
tickle her lips and slide past to be sucked into her lungs in a
dizzying invasion. “I like you at my mercy, to do with as I
please.”

Her brain was
in overload. Sensations, heat, desire, the magic of the moment, it
all surged through her in a combination that had her arching up to
meet him.

Their lips met
and his were as silky as she remembered. Not very experienced in
kissing, she was more than happy for him to lead the way, and he
was obviously more than happy to take control.

Coaxing,
pressing, sliding, his lips moved against hers, and she followed
him, doing his silent bidding, opening when his tongue traced the
seams of her lips and nudged. His taste filled her even as he
plundered the depths of her mouth, seeking and taking from her,
demanding more, and she could only follow, learning from his groans
of pleasure, his whispered encouragement when his lips left hers to
trail across her cheek and further to her ear, pressing
open-mouthed kisses to her overheated skin.

A kiss, a lick,
and then his mouth was on her throat, fastening, sealing, the
strength of his mouth drawing on her making her loins weep.

Unable to think
clearly, the sensations and passion of the moment sweeping her up
in a burning prurience, Sophie forgot all about her surroundings,
the house, Sam, the neighbours. Hidden by the night, the bushes,
the shelter of Alan above her, she threw caution to the wind and
revelled in the heat of the moment, the sheer ecstasy of being in a
man’s arms, of feeling a large, hard body above her, a man’s lips
on hers, the clear desire he had for her evident by the hard shaft
pressing against the apex of her thighs.

That the man
was Alan made it so much more magical, so sinfully, hedonistically
magical.

His scent
filled her nose, his essence her mouth, and the heat of his body
seeped through her skin to coil around deep inside her, warming
places she hadn’t even known were cold.

Tugging the
elastic free so that her hair tumbled to the ground around her
head, Alan tangled his hand in the thick mass, using it to hold her
head at the right angle for him to kiss her again, mastering her,
kissing and licking deep, eating at her mouth like a starving man,
as though he couldn’t get enough of the taste of her.

“So sweet,” he
groaned huskily. “You make me so Goddamn hungry, Soph. I could
feast on your mouth forever.”

He did it so
expertly, too, and she accepted him as hungrily as he took her.

She wasn’t
aware of his other hand until a big palm cupped her breast, fingers
sliding beneath the clasp at the front to snap it free, then Alan’s
calloused palm was pressed against her bare breast, making her gasp
into his mouth and press into that expert hand.

Rubbing,
massaging, his hand tested the globe, fingers spreading out to dig
lightly into the tender flesh, making her whimper in longing for
more, so much more, and then he gave it to her, spearing her nipple
between two fingers, scissoring dexterously to tease the nub until
it was hard, peaking, begging for something she knew she should
recognise - God knew she wrote about it enough - but she couldn’t
remember, only want.

He laughed
softly, darkly against her lips, but she didn’t care, couldn’t
think of a coherent word to say. But he knew what she wanted,
proved it when he kissed, open-mouthed and hot, down her throat and
shoulders, further, his hands cupping her breasts as he leaned down
to lick first one begging nipple, then the other, blowing lightly
on them, his teeth a wicked gleam in the dark when he glanced up to
watch her shivering reaction.

“So hot,
Sophie.” His voice was as dark as his eyes. “So hot, baby. You’re
burning up.”

“Please, Alan,
please.” She could barely speak, her voice a whimper.

“Poor baby.”
The words were whispered against her nipples, that wicked tongue
spearing out to touch the tips one at a time. “How about I give you
a little release, Soph? How about I give you - this?”

The sensation
of his hot mouth engulfing her nipple had her writhing, his hold on
her hips tightening as he drew on her, sucking long and hard, her
tender nipples so ultra sensitive she thought she’d surely
faint.

Invisible
strings tied to her secrets deep inside pulled taut, quivering, and
just when she thought it couldn’t get any better, he shifted his
attention to her other nipple, licking and teasing, making her moan
and whimper before he took pity on her and sucked deep, drawing
once again, his tongue pressing and rubbing even as he sucked.

Slow, torturous
sucks, deep and hot, driving her insane with the ardour raking
through her.

Strings of
heated nerves stretched taut, she could feel herself flying towards
something, cresting, her breath almost sobbing, so caught up in
sensation.

Cool night air
on her thighs, the shifting of Alan above her, her nipples peaking
as a breeze blew across the wet nubs. Something landed not far away
with a plop in the grass, the scent of old leather. His wallet.
Alan moving above her, his hips leaving her, and she thought in
despair that he was actually leaving her.

“Alan!” The
panic was in her voice.

“It’s all
right, Soph.” The sound of foil ripping. “I’m right here.” His
voice so deep, almost rasping, the heated desire clear even to
her.

He wanted her,
desired her, the knowledge making her arch up instinctively when
his hands pulled impatiently at her panties, nearly ripping them in
his haste. Within seconds her legs were free, the panties plopping
in the grass right alongside the leather wallet.

His weight came
down on her, his hands supporting himself as he wedged his hips
between her thighs.

The probing of
his shaft between her slick nether lips had her whimpering, her
legs automatically widening to allow him greater movement, and he
sank down with a growl of approval. A slide against her perineum
that had her sucking in her breath in anticipation and ecstasy
combined, one more nudge, and he was there, the tip of his shaft
entering her slowly. Breathing harsh as he moved forward, the
flexing of his muscles and the tightness around his mouth testament
to the fact that he was holding back, not hurrying, and she felt a
different warmth engulf her knowing he was being careful.

Only she didn’t
want careful, she wanted it all. She wanted everything Alan had to
give. Instinctively she arched upward, rubbing against him, her
hands curling around his shoulders.

“Ah -
Jesus
! Soph, don’t. I’m trying to be gentle, baby, I-”

“Please. Please
Alan, I can’t take it anymore.” She felt like she was going on
fire.

The slow
advancement of that thick, hard shaft stretching her sheath was
darkly erotic, the invasion of her body a torturous tease.

“Bend your
knees, Soph,” he ordered between gritted teeth. “It’ll make it
easier.” He added, “I hope,” right before he thrust hard and
fast.

The pain of her
hymen tearing wasn’t totally unexpected but nevertheless she
stiffened. Holy cow that did sting! At the same time her nails dug
into his shoulders, she opened her mouth to let loose a startled
cry.

Almost
immediately he muffled it with his own mouth, catching her cry,
taking it from her at the same time his hips stilled. Buried deep
within her, he waited, releasing her mouth to press little kisses
across her cheeks. “All right, Soph?”

“Cripes,” she
whispered in a mixture of annoyance and arousal. “Since when do you
listen to me? That stung!”

Lifting his
head so he could study her face, Alan’s heated gaze drifted down to
her lips and back up to her eyes. Then, with a slow, wicked and
decadent smile, he shifted, a small roll of his hips that had her
gasping and her slightly restrained nerves coming back on full
alert. Another roll of his hips and the flames that had dimmed just
a little at the stinging invasion sparked up, sending skittering
flares dancing along her skin and deeper, the heat uncoiling once
more inside her as he started to thrust slow and gentle, but
firmly, letting her know he was in charge.

“Ooohhh.”

His teeth
flashed whitely in the dark. “Change of heart, Soph?”

“Are you
laughing at me?” She moaned and arched her hips helplessly upward
as he continued the slow thrusts, each and every one dragging
through her highly sensitised sheath, the slickness of her arousal
easing his way so alluringly, though it was still a tight fit.

“Maybe just a
little,” he admitted with a lusty, amused growl right before he
took her lips again.

His kisses were
as carnal as she’d ever dreamed of, his tongue plundering her
mouth, licking deep, washing through her until all she could taste
was him once more. He took her mouth as he started to take her
body.