James: A College Girl Romance (12 page)

“I’m not an idiot, but I don’t want to get confused about what this is to either of us,” she said in an unsteady tone. “You don’t have to seduce me—you already bought me, right?”

I let her statement linger in the air for a moment. Then I set down the champagne and rose from the sofa.

“You’re right.”

She lurched to a stop and stared blankly at me. Her cheeks were flushed pink—perhaps equal parts indignation and alcohol. She took an unsteady step back as I walked toward her. She continued to retreat until the back of her knees hit the bed. I watched her breathing quicken as I stopped in front of her. Then my hands slipped into her hair, holding her perfectly still as I bent to take her lips. The moment my tongue pushed into her mouth, I felt the tiny whimper of shock that reverberated through her.

I bit her lower lip and drew it into my mouth before releasing her only long enough to spin her until her back was pressed against my chest. I held her around the waist and drew her down until she was sitting in my lap on the bed.

H
oly fucking shit!

What was I doing provoking him? I was out of my goddamned mind. Prodding this guy was like sticking my hand in a tiger’s cage and hoping not to get bitten. It was stupid, reckless, dangerous. And suddenly I was afraid.

Despite the sharp stab of pleasure that had coursed through me the moment his teeth had sunk into my lower lip, I knew I was way out of my depth. Here I was sitting in his lap like I was about to give him a lap dance. In reality, my experience with men was limited to a few drunken make-out sessions in clubs during college. When I tried to launch myself out of his lap, his hand around my waist tightened, pulling me back until I could feel the hard length of him pressed up against me.

“Let me go,” I rasped.

I felt his breath at my ear.

“Is that what you want?”

His other hand came up, his fingers lightly trailing across the top of the dress. My breathing stuttered and then sped up.

“Tell me,” he said more sharply. “Do you want me to release you?”

His thumb began tracing over the material of my dress. I felt my nipples tighten against the silky material of the corset. When his other hand came up and teased along my jaw, I shuddered and shook my head.

“No, I don’t want you to let me go,” I admitted.

It was true—and it pissed me off. Despite the fact that I thought he was a borderline sociopath, I didn’t want him to stop touching me.

“Good,” he said.

He suddenly pinched my nipples, hard enough to send another unfamiliar jolt of pleasure straight between my legs. When I gasped, he brushed my hair over my shoulder and began to unzip my dress.

“Lean forward, lovely.”

“Why?”

My question came out breathy and suspicious.

“Because I’m going to extricate you from your torture device.”

I looked down self-consciously at the corset as the front of my dress fell into my lap.

“Unless you planned on sleeping in it?” he asked humorously.

Leaning forward, I felt him undo the ribbon at the bottom of the corset, loosening the garment. His fingers were quick and sure, and before I knew it, he had reached around and was unhooking the metal clasps at the front. When the stiff material fell away, I shivered and closed my eyes. Then his hands were on me, caressing circles around my breasts, closer and closer to my nipples, until I was whimpering, throbbing, and on the brink of begging.

“Have you touched yourself, Cass?” he breathed in my ear.

My eyes snapped open. I hadn’t expected a question like that.

“Of-of course,” I stammered.

I was pretty fucking good at it, too, but I wasn’t going to tell him that.

“From now on, I’m the only one who touches you.” His lips grazed my ear again. “I’m the only one who makes you come.”

Before I could muster any indignation or form an argument, his hands slid from my breasts to my waist and he lifted me until I was standing. My dress fell to the floor, and suddenly all I was wearing was stockings, garters, a pair of black lace panties, and silver stiletto heels.

“Very nice,” he said with a sly appreciation that made me blush.

I stepped away from him, but he was too fast. His arm snaked around my waist, pulling me back into his lap. His lips skimmed the side of my neck as his hands slid from my waist to the tops of my thighs. I started to shake as his fingers continued to tease my skin. His touch slowly moved up, his left hand grasping my hip as his right began to part my legs. When I squirmed, his lips touched my ear.

“I’m going to make you come harder than you ever have.”

My breath left me as his fingers skimmed the elastic of my panties before slipping beneath the lace. I shivered and my eyes closed as his fingers parted me. His middle finger teased a circle around my clit before he brushed over me so softly that I cried out. He did it again and again, softer and softer, until I was ready to scream. When he finally stroked directly over the tender spot, my hips jerked forward. Each touch forced a whimper from my lips.

“Does that feel good?” he breathed in my ear.

I swallowed and tried to catch my breath.

“Tell me, Cass.”

His stroke became rougher, making the pleasure spiral faster and higher.

“Please …” I begged.

Just before I could come, he stopped. His hand slipped out of my panties, leaving me breathless with need. He stood, taking me with him, and turned with me in his arms. When he lowered me onto the bed, I was past the point of regret.

I watched him loosen his tie and kick off his shoes. Then he came down beside me. I didn’t know what to expect as he bent down and touched his lips to mine. His kiss was soft this time. Then the tips of his fingers grazed over the silken panties, and I sucked in a quick breath as his fingers trailed down, pressing the material against me. Every nerve ending in my body felt like it was on fire, each caress bringing me higher.

Finally, he dipped beneath the material again, stroking me faster until my breath hitched in my chest. He brought me closer and closer, slowing each time before I could come. I closed my eyes, biting down hard on my lip as the pleasure increased to the point of pain.

“James.”

“You’re so close,” he growled. “How long do you think I can keep you on the edge?”

He stopped again, and I blinked up at him.

“Please,” I begged.

“You don’t know how badly I want to see you come,” he said as his finger tortured me.

He began kissing the sensitive spot just below my ear. I was trembling, aching, and desperate for release. He lifted his head and watched me as his touch quickened again. My hips rocked as the pulsing heat building between my legs became too much. I closed my eyes. I needed to come.

“Oh god,” I whimpered.

“Has anyone been inside you?”

I blinked up at him in shock. Before meeting James McDevitt, I had barely kissed anyone—and definitely not like this. I shook my head.

“No, I told you. I’ve never—”

When his fingers slipped down and pressed gently against me, I gasped.

“I need to feel how wet you are,” he said roughly. “I need to know how tight you are before I fuck you for the first time. I want to feel you coming.”

The ache between my legs became unbearable, and my hands gripped the comforter.

“Do you want that, Cass?”

I swallowed, my breathing still uneven as he stared down at me.

“Will I—will I still be a virgin?”

I closed my eyes and shook my head. I couldn’t believe I had just asked that.

“I don’t count it until I’ve buried my dick in you and fucked you until you can’t think straight.”

My pulse jumped. Then he winked, and I almost laughed. Almost. His finger began teasing my clit again, rougher this time. When he stopped—again—I nearly screamed.

“You never answered me, lovely.”

His finger carefully brushed across my clit again. Fuck. He was killing me—and I was desperate. I wanted—
needed
—to feel him filling this aching, hollow feeling building between my legs.

“Yes,” I panted. “I want to feel you inside me.”

His expression changed, his eyes darkening, if that was even possible. It felt like I was drowning in their darkness. He began stroking me again, slowing each time I got closer to the edge—until I was whimpering incoherently. I had never felt anything this intense, throbbing pleasure so close to pain. I moved my hand down to help things along, but he stopped abruptly and grabbed my hand.

“No,” he growled.

He sat up and began unhooking the garters before slowly inching them down my legs. He pulled off the heels one at a time. Then I felt his hands at my hips as he slid my panties down my thighs, past my knees, and then over my ankles.

Part of my brain was screaming that I was on a bed—naked—with a man who, for all intents and purposes, had purchased me. But my body didn’t care. I had never been this turned on before. Most guys I had gotten even remotely close to, physically speaking, had reeked of cheap beer, sweat, and bar funk—an easy combination to resist after they had tried shoving their tongues down my throat in the middle of a club. As he came down beside me, James smelled good, like mint and some unfamiliar, hypnotic aftershave.

“Beautiful,” he said as his fingers caressed along the side of my face.

He parted my legs and moved until he was kneeling between them. He stared down at me as his hands traced the sides of my neck, between my breasts, down my belly. When his finger slipped down between my legs again, the pleasure built immediately. I pressed my head into the bed and writhed under his touch.

“James.”

I didn’t even recognize my own voice. Then I felt his finger press gently against me.

“Yes. Cass, you’re so wet right now.”

My eyes popped open. He stared down at me as he pressed into me just a fraction. When I winced at the thickness of his finger, he pulled out slowly before doing it again and again until my hips began to rock against him.

“So fucking tight,” he said as he pushed deeper.

I bucked against him and closed my eyes as he thrust all the way. The pressure was almost too much. His lips came down on mine as he pushed a second finger into me, driving into me faster, stretching me. His tongue thrust into my mouth, matching the rhythm of his fingers. The dual invasion made me cry out. When his thumb swept roughly over my clit, the pleasure built until I couldn’t hold back. My eyes closed my orgasm exploded.

Then his his fingers curled inside me, caressing a spot that forced me to come even harder. It was like nothing I had ever felt. He stroked me until little sounds escaped my lips as I rode his fingers. He continued until I sobbed and collapsed onto the bed. I only opened my eyes when his lips brushed my forehead. I winced as his fingers began to withdraw.

“That was beautiful, and you are going to be one incredible fuck.”

I shook my head.

“You know just what to say to a girl to sober her up.”

Still dizzy, I began to sit up and draw my arm over my chest. Before I could wriggle away, James pushed me back onto the bed and caught my wrist in his hand.

“If you can still speak in full sentences, then I haven’t done my job.”

He jerked his tie off with one hand, and before I could break free from him—if that was even possible—he had the tie looped around my wrist. Then he grabbed my other wrist and tied them together.

“This isn’t funny,” I hissed.

“You’re right.”

He pushed me back on the bed.

“Are you always such a chauvinist?” I snapped.

He smiled as his hands caressed up my legs.

“For the record, I don’t think men are superior to women; therefore, by definition, I can’t be a chauvinist.”

“All right,” I huffed. “You’re an egotistical bastard, then.”

“Guilty as charged.”

It was impossible to insult this asshole. He either welcomed the aspersion, or he decimated my accusation with an obnoxiously infallible rebuttal. I squeaked when he grabbed my ankles and dragged me until I was at the edge of the bed.

“What are you—”

“Shhh.”

As soon as he began to part my knees, I struggled. Then I felt his fingers spreading me. His breath caressed me, and when his tongue stroked slowly around my clit, all the air rushed from my lungs.
Holy fucking shit!
My head dropped back onto the bed. He took one leg and then the other and hooked them over his shoulders.

“Do you want more?”

I raised my head and stared at him as he waited, poised between my legs. Feeling his fingers circling my entrance, I cursed silently.

“Yes, goddammit.”

He laughed quietly. Then, before I could catch my breath, his tongue plunged into me. My hips launched off the bed until his hands gripped me and held me perfectly still as his tongue flicked my clit. When his finger pressed into me this time, I arched against the grip of his other hand.

His touch slowed, and he patiently began teasing me and then backing off until I was aching again. He stopped and stood. Suddenly he was loosening the tie wrapped around my wrists. He pulled me up onto the bed and came over me, easily holding himself up with one arm.

I reached up and touched his bicep, wondering vaguely how long I could maintain plank position without falling on my face. Then my eyes widened in shock as he took my hand and placed it over his erection.

My fingers automatically wandered up the rock-hard thickness jutting against the material of his pants, and I shook my head. If two fingers had stretched me to the limit—then no way. I couldn’t even close my grip around him. There was just no way. He was huge.

“That’s why I’m taking it slow,” he said with another obnoxiously charming grin.

Fucking asshole. How did he always know what I was thinking? My hand dropped away from him.