Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 232(@200wpm)___ 186(@250wpm)___ 155(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 232(@200wpm)___ 186(@250wpm)___ 155(@300wpm)
“It’s not that,” I murmur. “It’s not—you know, the emotional stuff. I trust that. I believe in it. Maybe that makes me crazy because we only met so recently, but I don’t care. There’s something inside of me – call it a soul, my heart, whatever – that just knows that Kris is the man for me.”
“What is it, then?” Jackie says.
I shoot her a look.
“Oh,” she murmurs.
“Oh, exactly,” I say.
“You’re worried that, because it’s your first time, certain things won’t – um – happen?”
She stumbles on the word happen.
I can tell she was going to say fit.
And that is my worry.
That I will disappoint him.
“You don’t have to go and see Kris tonight,” Jackie says a moment later. “You can tell him no. If you want to wait. If he tells you to go fuck yourself, then you know he’s not the man for you after all. But if you really want to go—”
“I do,” I say, unable to hold it in anymore. My voice soars and Tinkerbell yips. “More than anything. If you remove my nerves from the equation, I want to be there right now.”
“Then do it,” Jackie says. “Throw yourself into the experience. See what happens. The thing is, Kimmy, I know you.”
“Better than anyone,” I say passionately.
“And I’ve never seen you like this before. Maybe it’s only been a short amount of time, but I can see how much this means to you. You owe it to yourself to try. If you didn’t want to, fine, that’d be one thing. But letting anxiety hold you back. Fuck anxiety, remember?”
I giggle, nodding.
It was what I said to her when she had her first art showing and she was too terrified to go and mingle with the guests. She was just part of a larger show, one artist among many, but the nerves still caused her to question everything the same way I am now.
“Fuck anxiety,” I repeat. “Yeah, you’re right. Thanks, Jacks.”
She blows me a kiss, grinning, and I turn and walk back into my bedroom.
I sit on my bed and take out my cellphone, hovering my thumb over the call icon.
Fuck. Anxiety.
I press down and bring the phone to my ear. Kris answers midway through the second ring.
“I want you,” I whisper. “I want us.”
“So do I,” he growls. “More than anything. More than I want air. I’ve been dreaming about you all day. Should I send the car, Kimberly?”
“Yes,” I say. “But give me a little while to get changed and do my hair. I want to look pretty for you.”
“You’d look pretty anyway,” he tells me firmly, flooding my chest with starlight. “But I’m not going to argue with that. I’ll give you an hour. See you soon, my sweet little virgin.”
“See you soon, Kris.”
I hang up and chew my lower lip, but then I smile, and when it starts I can’t stop. My smile spreads further and further across my cheeks until I’m beaming like a fool.
This is it. This is really it.
The night I lose my virginity.
Chapter Sixteen
Kristian
I sit in the plush living room in the hotel suite, in a regal looking chair, one leg laid across the other, my fingertips tapping against my knee.
Impatience surges through me each time I think of my woman, of the way she looked in that wetsuit, her curves highlighted and irresistible.
But it’s not the impatience of a college frat boy or the immature fuck-head who would hurry a woman along. This is the impatience of a beast, stalking the jungle, predator’s eyes scanning for their prey, their mouth salivating when they think about the juiciness of their quarry.
My cock gives another insistent throb when I hear the private penthouse elevator make a ding noise, announcing Kimberly’s arrival.
I stand, glancing briefly around the living room. Three regal looking couches and chairs are laid out across a Victorian style rug. The floor is a marble. A miniature chandelier hangs from the ceiling. The suite is fifteen thousand dollars a night, and everything is of the highest quality, as befits my queen. Little diamond light glinting along the walls.
But nothing is brighter than the need which flares alight within me when I lay eyes upon Kimberly.
Her hair falls in curls down to her shoulders, gorgeous ringlets that make me want to run my hands through them. She’s wearing a subtle touch of makeup, just enough to enhance her naturally captivating features. Even underneath her heavy winter coat – a coat that covers her from neck to knee – I can see the outline of her enthralling form.
My body hungers for her, growling imploringly.
I need her as I’ve never needed anything or anyone before.
I stalk forward, my heart thumping heavily, as though my seed is fueling it, sending all the tension to my manhood.
My manhood presses against my pants, my engorged helm pushing against my zipper.