Chapter 6 #2
The sight of her nearly stops my heart. Simple white bra, simple white panties. Nothing overtly seductive, yet the most erotic thing I've seen in years. Her body is slim but strong. Her breasts are small but perfect, straining against the thin fabric.
I finish removing my shirt, then kneel on the bed. "Come here."
She sits up and moves toward me without hesitation. I cup her face in my hands, kissing her again—slower this time, deeper. Teaching her. Her responsiveness is intoxicating. She follows my lead eagerly, learning with each stroke of my tongue what pleases me.
My hands slide down to her bra, unhooking it with practiced ease. She stiffens slightly as it falls away, a flush spreading across her chest.
"Don't hide from me," I murmur, tipping her chin up when she tries to look away. "You're beautiful."
I lower my head to her breast, taking one nipple into my mouth. She gasps, arching into me. My hand finds her other breast, thumb circling the sensitive peak until she's squirming beneath my touch.
"Alexander," she breathes, the sound of my name on her lips sending a fresh surge of heat through my veins.
I ease her back onto the bed, my mouth never leaving her skin as I trail kisses down her stomach. At the edge of her panties, I pause, looking up at her.
"I'm going to taste you now," I tell her, my voice dropping to a register that makes her shiver. "I want to hear you. Do not hold back."
I peel the cotton down her legs, tossing it aside. She instinctively tries to close her thighs, but my hands are already there, gently but firmly spreading her open to my gaze.
"Perfect," I murmur, settling between her legs. "So fucking perfect."
At the first touch of my tongue, she cries out—a sound of pure surprise and pleasure that goes straight to my cock. I take my time, licking and sucking with deliberate pressure, reading her body's responses to learn what makes her tremble.
Her inexperience is evident in the way she writhes beneath me, unsure what to do with the sensations building within her. I grip her hips, holding her in place.
"That's it," I encourage between strokes. "Let me hear you. You're going to come for me, Camille. Right now."
Her thighs begin to shake, her gasps turning to moans as I focus my attention on the sensitive bundle of nerves. When her orgasm hits, it takes her by surprise—her back arching off the bed, her hands fisting in the sheets, my name torn from her throat.
I don't give her time to recover. I rise above her, unbuckling my belt, pushing down my pants and boxers in one motion. Her eyes widen at the sight of me, fully aroused and ready.
"It's okay to be nervous," I tell her, positioning myself at her entrance after rolling on a condom. "But I won't hurt you. Not more than necessary."
I push in slowly, just the tip at first, watching her face for any sign of pain or fear. Her breath hitches, but she nods, urging me on. I continue my careful advance, feeling her body resist then yield to the intrusion.
"Breathe," I command when she tenses. "It will feel better if you relax."
She does, and I slide deeper. The sensation of her tight heat around me is almost overwhelming. I have to grit my teeth against the urge to thrust fully inside in one stroke.
"You're taking it so well. Such a good girl," I praise her, my voice strained. "So tight. So perfect around my cock."
Her eyes widen at my words, but I see the flush on her cheeks deepen. She likes the way I talk to her. Good.
When I'm fully seated inside her, I pause, letting her adjust to the fullness. Her hands clutch at my back, nails digging into my skin.
"Feel that?" I murmur, flexing inside her. "That's how deep I am. You're going to remember this every time you sit down for the next three days."
She moans in response, her hips shifting beneath me, seeking more. I begin to move, slow withdrawals followed by careful thrusts, building a rhythm that has her gasping with each stroke.
As her body relaxes further, accepting me more easily, I increase my pace. The headboard begins to hit the wall with each thrust, punctuating her cries of pleasure.
"That's it," I bite out. "Let me hear you. You're going to come again, and when you do, I want you screaming my name."
I shift the angle of my hips, hitting that spot inside her that makes her entire body jerk. Her eyes fly open, surprise evident on her face.
"There it is," I say with satisfaction. "Again."
I drive into her relentlessly, watching as her second orgasm builds.
When it crashes over her, she does exactly as I commanded—screams my name, her inner muscles clenching around me so tightly that my own release is triggered.
I bury myself deep inside her, groaning as wave after wave of pleasure washes through me.
Afterward, I hold her against my chest, feeling her heart rate gradually slow. She falls asleep like that, her breath warm against my skin, her body curled trustingly into mine.
I watch her sleep, the peaceful expression on her face, the slight smile curving her lips. And something unfamiliar twists in my chest—something I've never felt after sex before.
Guilt.
Not for taking her virginity—she gave that freely, eagerly.
No, this is something deeper. A recognition that I've stepped over a line I've always maintained.
I don't get involved with virgins. I don't take women who might develop feelings.
I don't do anything that might complicate my carefully ordered life.
Yet here she is, sleeping in my arms. And here I am, not wanting to let her go.
I brush a strand of hair from her face, my touch gentler than I knew I was capable of. This isn't just about sex anymore. It hasn't been from the moment she walked into that interview with her dildos and her nervous smile.
And that terrifies me more than any business rival or market crash ever could.