The Virgin Rule Book (Rules of Love #1) - Lauren Blakely Page 0,64
hardness against wetness.
Breathing in purposefully, deeply, I let the air fill my lungs, my whole body. And I imagine relaxation flooding me.
My legs fall open wide as he continues rubbing the head against me. I stare down at us, mesmerized, utterly mesmerized, by the erotic sight—his big hand curled around the base of his cock, the slow and sensual way he rubs the crown through my wet folds, then how he presses it against my clit.
A blast of pleasure smashes into me, and I curl my hands tighter around his strong shoulders, digging into his muscles, his flesh.
“Feels so good,” I murmur.
A smile curves his lips. “You fucking bet it does.”
His eyes darken, arousal coming over them, but passion too—passion for me.
I feel it.
I sense it.
This is not just sex.
We’re not just fucking.
We’re connecting.
Anticipation ignites a fresh rush of tingles down my spine. Pleasure rolls through me as he pushes in.
My thighs clamp, tightening for a second, gripping his hips. Then I laugh, letting go. “Hi.”
“Hey,” he says, bracing himself on his palms. “You good?”
“So good,” I whisper as I hook one leg over the back of his thigh, tugging him a little closer, a little deeper.
He sinks in another inch, and I arch up, savoring at once the utter intoxication of him starting to fill me at the same time as I bite back a burn.
He goes deeper, and I’m being stretched.
It’s good, but uncomfortable too.
So much pressure, so much pushing, like an invasion.
My fingers dig in. I need to grip him, and as I grasp him tighter, he groans, a long, slow sensual sound that sends a wave of hot sparks across my skin.
From his reaction.
From his unrestrained response to sinking into me.
His noises help me to relax, and relaxing helps me to take him in.
He’s halfway there, maybe more, and I coax him deeper, my thigh hooking more tightly around him as I grit my teeth momentarily.
His eyes lock with mine. “Nadia, it’s hurting you. I can tell.”
Shaking my head, I breathe in, out. “It’s a good hurt. Let me feel it.”
“Are you sure?” His question is desperate, like his eyes, like his expression.
He wants this as much as I do. He wants me like I want him.
And I do want him.
In every way.
Deep in my bones, far into my heart.
Thank God I am a toy aficionado.
I’ve done this, I’ve been here.
Yes, the real thing is different, but I can handle this, and I want to.
I want to so much. I wrap both legs around him, hooking them over his firm ass, then I jerk him closer so he sinks deeper into me.
“Oh God,” I gasp.
“Fuck, sweetheart,” he groans, then grits his teeth, clenches his jaw.
The realization that he’s as affected, as lost, as I am unravels me.
It wrecks me and takes me apart.
I inhale deeply, slide my hands down his body, cover his ass, and hold on tight, closing my eyes as he sinks all the way in.
All. The. Way.
I tense, tremble, bite my lip at a rush of pain.
It radiates in my center, a burn, and a sting.
But I breathe through it, again, again.
And soon, the pain ebbs, like a tide flowing out to sea and leaving a gentle lull in its wake.
A tender push, a delicious pull.
And the sensation of being filled, of being one.
That’s how I feel with Crosby.
Connected.
And also insanely turned on.
I lift my hips, seek him out, ask for more.
He grits his teeth, a bead of sweat forming on his forehead. He pulls out, inch by inch, until he’s almost all the way out, then he swivels his hips and sinks back into me.
“Oh!” I gasp, arching into him.
“Yes,” he grunts, then eases out, pauses, and slides back in, his shaft grazing my clit as he goes.
And that right there is better than a bunny.
Hotter than a dolphin.
And way more intense than any battery-operated little darling.
I wrap my arms around his neck, my fingers playing with his hair as my legs slide up his body, my thighs gripping his ass.
He lowers himself onto his rippling forearms, his muscles taut. His expression is torture and bliss all at once, but then soon it’s sensual determination as we find a rhythm, hit a pace, and move together.
I moan, writhing under him, gripping him, loving this.
Savoring this connection.
What I love most of all is when he dips his face, brushes his lips against mine, and then sighs a needy, dreamy sigh, like he can’t get enough of me either.