Live For Me (Blurred Lines #2)(31)
Author: Erin McCarthy

I clung to his shoulders and reveled that this was really happening. Devin was kissing me with fervor and passion and I was pretty damn sure a little bit of love. If not love, than a heady emotion that wasn’t too far away from it. When I had been kissed by my first love interest at fifteen, it had been wet and fumbling and I had kept trying, wondering when it was going to feel good, wondering if every girl out there was in fact faking her reaction to a guy. At seventeen it had been better, but what I did in the dark to myself was entirely different than what he did, and I found with guilt that I preferred flying solo.

With Devin all those experiences were eradicated. They were nothing. In fact, they’d never existed. There was no guy before Devin, not any that mattered. With my first kiss from him that morning, a new chapter of my sexuality had been started, and he inked another word with each touch, caress, kiss.

“The way you look at me,” he murmured. “It’s… powerful.”

I felt powerful and weak and overwhelmed all at once. I touched his cheek, enjoying the stimulation of his beard stubble on my fingertips. Every inch of me felt alive, electric. Eyes still trained on him, I took his hand and laced my fingers through his. Bringing our fists up together, I kissed his knuckles, one by one. “This is powerful. You and me.”

He made a sound in the back of his throat, then he buried his lips in my neck and kissed down my clavicle bone, tugging at my shirt with his fingers to free my skin to his touch. My eyes drifted shut as I gave in to him, head falling back. While his lips moved across my neck, his hands shifted under my shirt, finding their way up to my br**sts, where he brushed across my ni**les with a light, deft touch. Then he was guiding me down and before I even understood how it had happened, I was on my back on the couch, sweater off over my head.

Devin was touching me everywhere and I had no hesitation, no modesty, no embarrassment. All that mattered was him, and the hot, wet desire he was coaxing to life with his hands, his mouth, his hips lightly thrusting against me, our jeans rustling. I could feel his erection here and there, when he pushed against me, or brushed my leg, and I wanted more on an instinctive level. That deep urgent ache swelled tremulously inside me, desperate for completion. As he teased and sucked my nipple through the cotton of my bra, I spread my legs, wanting him closer, locking my ankles behind his. It felt right, easy, languid. I panted and moaned, rolling my hips when his hand cupped my sex. Pausing only to remove his shirt, he kissed me down there through my jeans and I shifted, restless, surprised at how good it felt.

Sensation flooding me, thoughts jumbled and chaotic, I undid the button on my jeans myself. He looked up at me over the length of my body, his expression fierce. I closed my eyes for a split second, not sure how to say what I wanted. Not even really sure what I wanted. Truthfully, I wanted him to show me what I needed.

“Please,” I whispered.

Tenderness came over his face. I’d never seen that expression from him, and I almost told him to stop, afraid it was too much. That I was in over my head. Devin Gold being sexy was one thing. Devin looking sweet and loving was more than I could handle. But before I could speak, he had my jeans down at my ankles. Cool air brushed over my skin and I lay in shock at how suddenly naked I was, physically and emotionally. He’d taken my panties with my jeans and there was nothing protecting me from his view. I inwardly cringed at how exposed I felt, at how I was nothing like socialites in New York.

“I don’t wax,” I said, which was stupid, because he could clearly see that. There was no point in me grooming any more than a tidying of the bikini line. It had always seemed like a colossal waste of time.

His fingers were massaging below my bellybutton, right over my pubic bone, distracting me from my anxiety. He was so close to where he should be, but so far away. And he knew it.

“I prefer you natural. Nothing else would suit you.” He kissed one hipbone, then the other.

One finger sank into my moist heat and I sucked in my breath. Then before I could protest or beg he covered me with his tongue.

I’d never felt that before, and the raw intimacy, the shivering, shuttering ecstasy, had me clamping my legs together, trapping his head between my thighs. Devin maneuvered himself further in, his hair tickling my bare skin, his arm shoving my left leg down onto the couch cushion, pinning it. He licked, he kissed, he sucked at me, and I squeezed my eyes shut, assaulted by sensation. I’d never felt anything so intense, so deep and wet and delicious. An orgasm rushed me, catching me completely off guard as it consumed my whole body with pleasure.

“Oh, my God,” I blurted, not caring that it was cliché. There was no other way to describe what the f**king hell was happening to me.

He kept at me until I finally stopped shuddering. When he lifted his head, wiping his mouth, a smug expression on his face, I blushed. A full on middle school blush. My legs were spread on either side of his head and my jeans were caught at my ankles. My bra was still on, but it was completely crooked, ni**les uncovered. Overwhelmed, I looked away toward the Christmas tree. Amelia was sitting on the area rug on her butt watching us.

“Oh, my God, the dog is watching us.” That to me was more embarrassing than anything else.

“What?” Devin glanced over, kissing my inner thigh before sitting up. He gave a crack of laughter. “She looks offended.”

Amelia barked. My cell phone started buzzing in the pocket of my jeans, dangling over the side of the couch. I clamped my legs together and rolled on my side, self-conscious of what Devin was seeing.

“You don’t have to hide from the dog,” he said, casually resting his hand on my bare hip. “I’m pretty sure she’s okay with it. Or if you want, we can go upstairs and shut the door.”

Go into his bedroom? Shut and lock the door? I wanted to. I really, really did. But now, lying there awkwardly, I was scared. I had no idea what I was doing. Look at what had just happened. He’d gotten me off and yet was still wearing pants. I’d yet to touch or see his penis. Nervous that I had no clue how to satisfy him, I felt like I should warn him so he’d know what he was getting. Which was me very much willing, but also totally and completely clueless.

I could have said or explained any of that. He probably knew I was a virgin anyway and had adjusted his expectations.

Instead I just blurted out, “I’m a virgin.”

Because that’s what every guy wants to hear when clothes have already come off.

His hand had made inroads into my thighs again, and his thumb was stroking over my sensitive and swollen clitoris, but he froze at my words.