How to Date the Guy You Hate by Julie Kriss Page 0,37

nipples cherry-red and hard. I cupped them, rubbing my thumbs over her nipples, and then I moved one hand up to the slim line of her neck, holding her gently and kissing her hard as I moved my other hand down between her legs.

She made a soft sound and gripped my shoulders. She smelled like damp woman and shower soap and hot, musky sex. I held her in place and rubbed her, feeling how wet her pussy was as she ground against my hand.

She broke the kiss, still moving against me. “Jason,” she said, her voice a husky whisper. “Get naked.”

“Maybe,” I said, kissing along the side of her neck, slowing my fingers inside her. “Are you begging?”

In reply she dropped her hands from my shoulders and worked at the button and fly of my jeans, which were damp from her. She leaned in so close her breasts brushed my bare chest and her breath warmed my neck. “I need you naked,” she breathed.

It was like a bolt of lightning going through me. My heart pounded in my chest. My dick pulsed in my jeans. For a second I couldn’t believe I had this girl on my lap, naked, trusting me completely, asking for what she wanted.

I need you naked.

Even with sex, I had always been the good guy. I asked girls out first. Took them on dates. Paid for dinner. Went at the right pace, made them come first. Called them afterward.

But Megan… Megan was the only girl I hadn’t been nice to. That night at the party was the only time something like that had happened to me. The only night I’d ever fooled around—naked—with a girl I wasn’t dating. The only time I’d ever been so drunk I didn’t even remember who she was. Even when I tried to make it up to her, I ended up saying the wrong thing, or giving her an orgasm in the middle of a rainy park, or fucking her quick and hard on her couch. I couldn’t seem to do anything nice around Megan.

And she didn’t care.

I gripped her hips and pushed her backward off my lap, tossing her on her back on the bed. Then I got my knees under me and leaned over her, braced on my arms. I took one of her nipples in my mouth as she gasped and dug her hands into my hair.

I moved to the other nipple and sucked hard as I pushed her knees apart. Her back arched and I moved my hand down to my jeans, shoving them and my boxers down just enough to free my cock. I stroked it and let her nipple go. Her gaze dropped down and she watched, my body hovering over hers, my hand stroking my dick. Her eyes went dark with lust and her breathing went shallow, her chest moving up and down.

“Is this what you want?” I asked her.

Her gaze stayed fixed on my hand. “Please tell me you brought condoms,” she said.

“I did.” I took my hand off my cock and wiped pre-come onto her lower lip with my thumb. “I brought a box. I told you, I can go all night.”

She looked up at me, and I knew no guy had ever been this dirty with her before. There was a split second when I wondered if I’d gone too far. Then her tongue came out and she licked her lower lip, slowly, in a thorough sweep that made my balls hurt.

“Bring it,” she said huskily.

“You asked,” I told her. “Roll over.”

Sixteen

Megan

There had never been anything as exciting in my life, not a single thing as sharply, perfectly thrilling, as Jason Carsleigh telling me to roll over.

I felt like someone had spiked my blood, like I had something hot and prickling in my veins. My skin was so sensitive I felt every thread of the sheets beneath me, every whisper of air. As he backed off the bed and stood, pulling his clothes the rest of the way off, I obeyed him and rolled onto my stomach, my nipples pressing into the bed with an almost unbearable ache.

There was movement behind me, a rustling. Then his voice, low and even. “Ass up, Megan.”

I sucked in a breath. I had always considered myself a risk-taker, the kind of person who didn’t play things safe and easy—because I’d had an unconventional life, chosen an unconventional path. But now I realized that was complete, utter bullshit. Because I had never taken a risk, a