12. How to （Not） Lose Your V-Card in a B&B
12
HOW TO (NOT) LOSE YOUR V-CARD IN A B&B
SOPHIE
I ’m unable to form a coherent sentence, my rational mind lying in shatters at his feet. His large hands spread over my lower back, pulling me in and letting me feel his hardness. As his hot breath hovers over my mouth, nervous tingles dance over my back, shivers spreading down my legs and turning them to jelly. But his grip on me is firm and safe, and I’m soft and pliant in his arms.
“I want to make you squirm and writhe,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with dark promise, wrapping around me like a velvet ribbon. The way he says it, low and husky, sends a firestorm through my body, every nerve igniting in response. My brain tries to claw its way back to logic, to reason, to every warning I’ve been silently chanting since the moment I met him.
This is Liam O’Connor. The New York Defenders’ golden boy. The man whose face is splashed across billboards and tabloid headlines surrounded by women who probably know exactly how to handle someone like him. A man so dangerously magnetic, he could unravel me completely—and walk away unscathed. A man who could ruin me for anyone else, leaving me hollow and aching.
I should stop this. I should remember all the reasons why this is a terrible, reckless, absolutely stupid idea. But the heat in his eyes holds me hostage. His thumb brushes over my wrist, a subtle, devastating touch. I’m at war with myself, my mind screaming at me to back away while my body leans in, drawn to him like gravity.
Outside, the storm rages on, wild and unforgiving, mirroring the chaos inside me. My fears swirl like snowflakes caught in the wind—memories of every warning I’ve given myself. And yet, I can’t seem to break away. I can’t stop the inevitable pull between us, the way he dissolves my better judgment with nothing but a look.
His gaze is piercing me as he tugs the neckline of my dress down, revealing my breasts to him. “Is this alright?” he asks in a rumble, and I nod, helpless to protest. The sensation of his thumb caressing my nipples, pink and erect, pulls a throaty moan out of the depths of my soul.
“From the moment I saw you, I had to make you mine,” he growls, his voice vibrating against my neck. Then he bends his head and places his hot mouth on my nipple, sucking, his tongue twirling at the hardened peak. “You make me so fucking hard.”
The sensation of his lips on my skin turns me liquid, heat pooling between my thighs, my breath a frantic pant. A rivulet of thick liquid trickles down my thighs, and I squeeze them together, the friction giving me some relief. At the same time, I’m overcome with a primal fear, native to every woman who has never been alone with a man, knowing what could happen.
What will happen .
“I want you. Your body. Your beautiful mind,” he murmurs and without warning, lifts me up in his arms and carries me to the king-sized bed, placing me down as if I am made of glass. He looks down at me with hunger. It’s good that I’m lying down, because I’m rendered boneless, morphed into quicksilver from his heat. Slowly, he tugs my dress down my waist and my legs, leaving me exposed and vulnerable in only my panties.
Shame washes over me, and I instinctively cover my chest.
Smirking, he leans over and gently pushes my hands aside, his palms now cupping my breasts possessively.
“A perfect handful,” he murmurs, and lowers himself over me, taking a nipple in his scalding mouth. He tweaks the other one between his fingers, hard and pointing at him. He licks me, then bites teasingly. He runs a hand down my legs, a slow, claiming touch that doesn’t tolerate dissent.
“I want to have these wrapped around my waist while I’m buried deep inside you,” he drawls, nudging my thighs open and playing with the hem of my panties. His hand slides them down my legs until I’m completely bare to his gaze.
Then in one swift move, he turns me over on my belly. A quick, probing slap of his hand on my hot flesh makes me jump up. Without a thought, I push backward, searching for friction, and his scorching breath greets me, licking at my exposed center. I gasp, surprised by the unfamiliar yet delicious sensation. His large hands fondle my ass and slap me again, this time harder, leaving a hot burn on my cheek. Without protest, surprised at the pleasure the pain is giving me, I’m writhing and searching for the touch that turned me into a heap of pure want .
“You taste like heaven, angel,’” I hear his muffled voice as he takes a long, feathery lick up and down my opening.
“More,” I mutter in an incoherent babble.
He chuckles and complies, greedily lapping at my arousal like a starved man. “This sweet pussy will be the end of me,” he murmurs against my hot flesh. “I’ve been thinking of it night after night, my cock hard with nowhere to go. It’s just as delicious as I imagined it to be.”
Two fingers slide through my slick arousal to my clit, twirling the sensitive button, bringing more friction and pleasure. His warm tongue circles my clit until I’m shamelessly humping his face, incoherently begging. He continues licking and tweaking my clit, pushing me closer and closer to the edge.
“Let go for me, angel,” he orders, and an earth-shattering orgasm washes over my body in a soul wrenching wave. Goosebumps rise on my skin, my nipples turning tight, almost painful.
He flips me on my back, luxurious pulses still owning my body. Pulling himself back up, he licks the side of my throat, then claims my mouth, letting me taste myself.
“Will you be mine, angel?” he asks as his hand comes up to wrap around my neck, then tugs me to lie on him, allowing me to feel his hardness.
I realize then that he is still fully clothed.
“Yes,” I moan, and he squeezes a bit harder around my throat. There is no other choice at this point. I never thought I would enjoy being manhandled in this way, but my arousal surges through me like a storm. His fist clenches my hair, tugging hard, and he angles me so that our mouths almost touch. I’m made pliant by his dominance, and my lips fall open, pain and pleasure intertwining and egging on one another.
His fist pulling my hair should feel wrong.
But I love it.
“This makes you hot, doesn’t it?” He smirks and edges me closer, kissing me hard, his tongue plundering my mouth, claiming me.
My eyelids flutter under his intense gaze, almost unable to bear its weight. He then moves me to his neck, and I understand what he wants from me.
To worship him the same way he did me.
With trembling fingers, I unbutton his shirt, and he helps me remove it, revealing a chiseled chest with a tattoo of a lion over his heart. He’s cut and toned, almost like someone sculpted him from marble. I trace my hand over the tattoo, then follow it with long, slow licks.
He’s mouthwatering in a way that has heat burning me up from the inside.
“Dangerous,” he grunts, as I move lower, lower, toward his bulge. I unbutton his pants and tug them down, removing them along with his boxer shorts, revealing his throbbing manhood. He is now fully naked, glorious muscles shimmering under the soft light of the lamps. I gasp at the sight of his erect cock, surprised and scared by its size.
How will this ever fit inside me?
I lower my head and lick at the tip, tasting the salty liquid and letting it coat my lips, then lazily trail my tongue down the side of his shaft. I’ve never done this before , my rational mind intervenes, but I don’t allow it to take over. As I open my mouth and take him in as much as I can without choking, I hear his groan and a curse.
“You’re killing me.” He pulls me up to his chest. “I won’t last a minute like that, angel,” he growls, as he claims my mouth again. “I want to feel you fall apart around my cock first.”
I don’t have time to react before he flips me over, spreading my legs and swiping his finger over my opening. “You’re so fucking wet for me. I can’t wait to feel you,” he growls, as he thrusts a finger inside my slit. The sudden, sharp stretch freezes me. It’s not pain, but also not pleasure. My pussy clenches frantically trying to keep him out, my thighs trembling.
I jerk away, recognizing in my sensual daze that this might hurt.
He stops, slowly removing his hand and looking at me questioningly.
“Everything alright there, angel?” he asks slowly, his gaze pinning me down.
Ashamed and humiliated, I look away. I assumed that this would be easier. That I’d be ready.
What twenty-one-year-old has never had sex?
“This is my first time,” I admit in a low murmur, looking anywhere but at him.
There is silence for a few beats. I can tell he is weighing his options, his slow, controlled exhale reverberating through the silence. Then I feel his warm hand cupping my cheek, gently turning my head to face him, and placing a kiss on my mouth, breezy like a butterfly spreading its wings.
“I’ll wait, angel,” he whispers hoarsely, his breath soothing and warm.
“But I…I’m ready. I want you,” I manage to stutter, pulling his body close, not wanting the sensations to stop. “Your touch just startled me.”
He smiles knowingly, lowering his head over my throat and trailing the side of my neck with his breath.
“No, angel, not tonight.” He pauses and places a possessive kiss on my lips. “The first time I fuck you, you won’t have drunk anything. I want you to remember every second of me making you mine.”