Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 101736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
No, of course I didn’t own a vibrator.
It was like . . . contraband. Just sitting there in its box, resting on my lap, felt excitingly wrong. I didn’t know what my parents would do if they found out I had one—but knew it wouldn’t go over well.
I’d thought once about buying one while I was away at school, but decided it was too risky. My parents might have questions about the charge on my credit card, plus I shared a dorm room with a roommate who was always around. When would I ever get a chance to use it?
I crinkled up the wrapping paper in one hand, while using the other to examine the box for a lid. There was a broken piece of tape across it.
“I opened it already,” he said, “and charged it up.”
I gulped down a breath so loudly, he had to have heard it. There was only one reason he’d have done that. “You want me to use it now?”
“No.” He pulled the box from my grasp, opened the top, and withdrew the sleek, sexy wand. “I want to use it on you . . . during.”
During.
How had he taken such a simple word and filled it with so much fire? The vibrator on its own was plenty hot, but the idea of him using it on me while we had sex? That was incendiary.
I couldn’t take my eyes off his strong hand clenched around the handle of the wand. It was so fucking sexy.
But perhaps my silence made him nervous.
“Because I want you to enjoy it,” he said. “I know a lot of girls don’t their first time.” He sounded like he thought I needed convincing. “I thought this might help, but if you’re not into it—no problem. I just want you to . . .”
He paused for so long, it drew my gaze back to him, and I wasn’t prepared for the way he looked. This wasn’t the cocky, selfish boy I’d had a crush on all through high school. This was a man who was trying to think outside himself and struggled with his newfound feelings.
“I just want you to be comfortable,” he blurted. As if saying it as fast as possible would rid him of his awkwardness.
It was so surprisingly sweet, it made my heart ache. He had so much more experience than I did, but was it possible he was just as anxious about the sex as I was?
I put a hand on his cheek to reassure him. “I am comfortable.”
“You’ll tell me if that changes.” He’d said it as a statement, but I heard the question buried inside it.
“Yes.”
A hint of relief glanced through his eyes, and then was gone, replaced by a growing intensity that was so magnetic, I couldn’t look away. What was he thinking about? Whatever it was, it was serious.
He rose from the couch and strode to the nightstand that was on the side of the bed he preferred, judging by the alarm clock and charging cord on top. The vibrator was plunked down there, and then he went to the dresser and retrieved his drink.
“Tell me how you want it,” he said, turning to face me and leaning against the dresser.
This question gave me the same feeling as cutting into a steak I was sure was medium-rare, only to discover it was over-done. “What?”
“What are you hoping for?” He took a sip of his drink as he studied me. “Candles and romantic music? You said you always imagined your first time would be with me. What was it like?”
My mind went blank. “Uh . . .” I’d had fantasies of us together, but in them he was always my boyfriend, and we were in love—so what I wanted wasn’t possible. “I don’t know. It’s kind of hard to explain.” I leaned over, snatched up my cup from where he’d set it down, and drank a big gulp, stalling. “I guess I want it however you want it.”
He shot me a serious look. “You are not ready for the way I want it.”
I sat up straighter and did my best to sound confident. “Maybe I’d surprise you.”
His laugh was soft. “You probably would, but I think we’ll save that for another lesson.” He ticked his head toward the cup in my hand. “Finish your drink so I can get you naked.”
My breath caught.
His command set me on fire, and while I drank the last of my rum and Coke, lightning buzzed through my system. It was finally happening. The good girl was going to do something very, very bad, and I couldn’t fucking wait.
FOURTEEN
Sydney
Preston finished his drink, straightened away from the dresser, and his gaze was locked on me as he strolled forward. Once again, he took my cup from my grasp and set it aside, and then offered a hand to help me up.