my virginity for dear life.
For him.
As ridiculous as that sounds. As impossible as that may be.
Somehow, I knew that one day we’d be here, and I’d have to prove to him that he means more to me than any other guy in the whole world—even those that mean less than nothing.
I want him to know he’s special.
That I’m his.
That I belong to him, and only him.
Josiah Bale owns me, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I’m shuddering all over, inside and out, as he slows his kiss. He tastes every inch of my mouth, playing with my tongue, drawing out the ecstasy of this moment. I start moaning, and whimpering, and squirming—coming undone from need.
“Where?” he whispers, moving his lips away from mine.
I moan sulkily at the loss, and then buck into him so hard he groans. “Anywhere, I don’t care.”
“You will care. Tell me.”
“Fuck.” I’m panting. He watches me, unmoved by my impatience, my frustration.
“Where, darling? Where do you want me to fuck you?”
I shiver, eyelids fluttering closed in delight as those words send a hard spike of pleasure through me. My underwear’s starting to get damp, my skin heating up.
In the kitchen, the phone starts ringing.
We both ignore it.
Then it comes to me. Somewhere private. Somewhere special. Somewhere no one would think to look for us.
“The pool house.”
“The pool house,” he repeats, already turning and heading there. He locks lips with me again, and we crash against furniture and walls like a pair of drunks as he stumbles toward the back door.
Our kiss is ravenous now. My lips tingle, hot and engorged with blood. I don’t know why, but his saliva is as sweet and intoxicating as a liqueur, and it’s having the same effect on me.
My head spins as he hurries past the pool. We crash against the glass doors. Jo grasps roughly at my breasts with one hand while he fumbles to open the door with the other.
“Jo!” I pant his name. “Hurry.”
He groans when I reach down and squeeze his dick through his jeans, and finally gets the door open. We crash inside, the lace curtains snapping around us. Thankfully, there’s a couch in the way, and I fall against its back instead of cracking my head on the flagstone floor.
We’re laughing, and panting, and trying to drag each other’s clothes off without our lips losing contact.
I am drunk.
So is he.
We could have been gone already, away from this place. We’re risking everything, and for what?
Logic is a foreign concept right now. Common sense? Nowhere in sight.
We’re drunk with sin. Stoned on lust. There’s no right and wrong anymore—there’s just pleasure and ecstasy and bliss…and neither of us can get enough.
I’m left in just my underwear when he drops to his knees in front of me. He’s still wearing his shirt, boxers, and a lone sock. He dips his head, back arching as he rains kisses down my thighs.
But he’s too tall, and the couch is too low. Just as I grab a handful of his hair, he shakes me off and slides his hands under my ass. I squeal when he hoists me up, and gasp as he spins me around and sets me down with a thump on the bar counter. The cool granite clings to my skin, and it squeaks when he drags me closer to the edge.
He wrenches another gasp from me when he grazes his teeth over my underwear. Jo steps back, chest heaving as he stares down at me. Slowly, his gaze drags up my body.
He can’t seem to look away from my eyes when he’s done savoring me.
A gust of wind sends the curtain billowing.
We should close it.
We should stop.
This is wrong.
We should stop—
“Take off your bra,” he commands.
I sit forward and reach behind me. He rewards me by running his knuckles over the now translucent fabric between my legs. As long as he’s telling me what to do, I don’t give a fuck about whether this is wrong or right.
I’ve always been a good girl, but it’s gotten me nothing but pain and suffering. So I’m done. It’s time I took what I wanted, and if what I want is a bad thing, then so what?
Whatever I end up paying for this sin, it’ll be worth it.
We both know that.
“Open for me.” His voice is rough, his lips trembling.
Slowly, I spread my legs apart. Another cool breeze flutters in through the curtains. For a brief moment, part of the patio and the pool’s gleaming surface is