His Nasty Virgin

He drags me closer. “I shouldn’t like that so fucking much.” He guides me to lie down between his spread thighs, my legs stretched wide as he drags me until I’m nearly in his lap. “But I do like it, Lily. I really, really do.” He parts my pussy with questing fingers and circles my clit

slowly with his thumb. “Do you want to come?”

I think I might die if I don’t. “Yes.”

He’s still tracing me with his fingers, teasing me, examining me. “Tell me what this pretty pussy needs, baby girl. Ask me properly and I’ll give it to you.”

I bite my bottom lip and look down my body at him. Do I dare say it? The alternative-not getting what I want-is unacceptable. “Make me come, Daddy. Please.”

The slow slide of his fingers into me feels obscene in this position. As if I’m just a plaything for him to do with as he pleases. Against my better judgement, my gaze flies around the room. We’re totally exposed here. If someone walked in, there would be no doubt what we’re doing, no hiding how close I am to coming, no missing the fact that it’s his fingers getting me there.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks almost idly as he pumps his fingers a little. “You just clenched around me.”

“I, um…” I drag in a ragged breath. “I was thinking about how exposed we are right now.”

“Not we. You are exposed. Spread out in only these tease of garters.” He spreads my pussy with his free hand and bends down to ghost his exhale against my clit. “You’re thinking about the look on his face if he found us like this.”

I hadn’t been, but now I can think of nothing else. Fierce satisfaction soars through me. I’ve endured so much pain and humiliation because of Max. I’m just enough of an asshole to want to respond in kind. “Maybe.”

Another delicious exhale, the feeling almost enough to tip me over the edge. “I shouldn’t ask…”

I stretch my arms over my head, writhing almost mindlessly against his touch. “Ask me. I’ll tell you whatever you want.”

“When’s the last time he made you come, Lily?” It sounds like it’s dragged from him, rough and brutal. “When’s the last time he worshiped your pretty pussy the way it was meant to be worshiped? Fingers and tongue, over and over again until you’re begging for his cock.”

My back bows and the beginning of an orgasm curls my toes. I’m so close… But Shane’s stopped moving, stopped the heady rise of pleasure while he waits for my answer. I whine and thrash. “Never. He’s never done any of that.”Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

“He’s never made you come?”

“No.” He never seemed to care, either. Not as long as he got his.

Shock makes his voice harsh. “Not a single fucking time?”

“No,” I whimper. “Not once.”

His curse is the only warning I get before his mouth is on me. Licking and sucking and, holy shit, that feels good. I barely get a chance to enjoy it before I’m orgasming, my toes curling and my back bowing. I don’t mean to grab his hair and grind my pussy against his face, milking every last bit of pleasure from his clever tongue.

I don’t mean to, but I’m not sorry I do it.

Shane shifts me higher on the ottoman and shoves it forward enough that he can go to his knees between my spread thighs. I tense. Most of the time when guys have gone down on me in the past, they’re in a rush, doing the bare minimum to get me ready enough to fuck me. I’m more than ready to fuck Shane, but he’s giving my pussy slow, thorough kisses. Like he has all the time in the world. Like this isn’t even about my pleasure; it’s simply because he’s enjoying himself.

Little by little, I relax, my mind unspooling beneath his tongue and the pressure of his fingers against my thighs, holding me open for him. “That feels good,” I whisper.

He drags the flat of his tongue over my clit. “Stay the long weekend.”

I lift my head. “What?”

He’s watching me closely. “Stay the weekend, baby girl. Let me work out two years’ frustration on your tight little body and worship your pussy. Let me make you come so many times, you lose count.” Another long lick. “Surely that’ll satisfy your need for revenge.”

I can’t think with him working me like this. “But what if he comes to visit?”

“He won’t.” He nips my thigh. “I’ll tell him to stay away if that’s what you want.”

I don’t know what I want. If this is only revenge, having Max catch us should be the ultimate goal. But if he catches us, this ends. I slowly reach down and sift my fingers through Shane’s silvering hair. I lift my hips, drawing his mouth back to my pussy. “Yes, Daddy. I’ll stay the long weekend.”

His answering grin makes me shiver. “Good.” And then his mouth is on me again, resuming his slow tongue fucking.

Even as I tell myself there’s no possible way I could come again, he coaxes my pleasure higher, easing me back to that cutting edge of desire. Quicker than I imagine possible, I’m whimpering and writhing and rolling my hips to grind against his mouth. “Oh my god, why does that feel so freaking good?”

“Because.” He circles my clit with the tip of his tongue. “I have nothing but time, baby girl. Nothing but time and your pussy and a whole fuck-ton of patience. You think I haven’t imagined your taste? I finally get it and you think

I’m going to rush? No. Fuck no.”

I feel like I’m about to burst out of my skin. “Don’t stop.”

He doesn’t answer with words, but he answers all the same. Each stroke drives me higher, winds me tighter. And then I’m at the precipice, suspended between one lick and the next, only to freefall down the other side. I come so hard, I shriek and clamp my thighs around his head. Shane wedges his big hands around them to force my legs wide again, to hold me open as he continues his assault until my bones turn to putty and I collapse. “No more. Oh god, no more.”

His dark chuckle promises no mercy. “Lily, you didn’t come here for two measly orgasms.” He’s at my pussy again, dragging his thumbs over my lips and parting me as if he can’t get enough of the sight of me. “So fucking pretty and pink and wet just for me.”

“Yes,” the word comes out as a rasp.

Shane sits back a little but doesn’t stop touching me. He avoids my clit for now, but the slow, possessive strokes against the rest of me is both easing me down and riling me back up. He doesn’t take his attention from my pussy. “I’d like to remember this.”

“Me too.”

“No, I don’t mean like that.” He finally drags his gaze up to my face. My wetness is all over his mouth and chin. He looks like a fucking savage, and I love that he doesn’t care that I’m all over him. We’ve made a mess of each other and, as he said, we’re just getting started. “I want to film you, baby girl. Something just for us.”

I go still. Fucking Shane is one thing. Pictures? Videos? Those are forever, no matter if they get deleted or not. There are always backups upon backups. My body shakes, and I can’t decide if it’s need or concern. “What will you do with it?”

“Remember the weekend when your pussy was mine and mine alone.” He cups me between my thighs hard. Like he’s owning that part of me, all of me. “If it makes you feel better, you can put it on your phone. Decide later if you want to send it to me or not.”

It’s wrong. The woman I was four days ago never would have consented to something like this, let alone actually desired it. I’m already nodding. “Yes.”