'Don't take me in your mouth.' Devlin groaned. 'I want to come inside you this first time, angel face. Do you have any condoms? I didn't quite expect this.'
'No,' Emily said, shaking her head.
'It's all right. I've been tested. I'm fine. How 'bout you? You're on the pill?'
'Uh-huh,' she lied, suspecting he'd stop if she told him the truth: that she wasn't on the pill because she didn't need it. That she had never before had sex.
He pulled her up and on top of him, rubbing his penis between her thighs. Then suddenly he rolled Emily over, spreading her thighs wide, fitting himself between them. He took her face between his big hands. 'I never wanted a woman so quickly before,' he told her. 'What is this magic about you, Emily Shanski?' Then he kissed her slowly.
It was the most sensual kiss she had ever imagined. His mouth was warm and seductive against hers. She felt as if her bones were melting as his lips worked against hers. Still, Emily was very, very aware he was positioning himself to enter her. She tensed, surprised when he immediately noticed.
'I'll go slow this first time,' he told her. 'I want to ram myself home, I'm so damned hot for you, angel face. But I want you to always remember the first time Mick Devlin fucked you.' The head of his penis pushed gently into her vagina barely an inch. 'Do you know how hard it is for me to be patient? You are so tight, angel face, and so ready for me.' He kissed her again, moving himself another tiny distance.
Emily's eyes were closed tight. She was barely able to breathe. Her whole consciousness was focused on what was happening to her. His thick penis stretched the walls of her vagina. She could feel her body enclosing him, feel him moving inexorably forward. When did it end? And where was that mysterious thing called orgasm that was supposed to happen to her? Would she know it when it happened?
Michael Devlin struggled in the face of his own overwhelming lust to give his partner every bit of enjoyment that he could. He knew if he did, she would retaliate in kind. The orgasm building up in him was going to be enormous, he sensed. And then suddenly, to his great surprise his slow sweet progress was blocked. At first he thought he was imagining it, but no, he was not. 'Jaysus!' he swore. 'You're a virgin!' He looked down at Emily with her tightly closed eyes. 'Open your eyes, you conniving little witch, and tell me the truth. You're a virgin, right?'
Emily did not open her eyes. 'Uh-huh,' she whispered.
'Oh, Christ, I can't stop now, angel face,' he told her. 'I'm sorry.' And then without further ado, he pulled his raging penis back and drove through her hymen.
Emily shrieked. 'You're hurting me,' she sobbed. Why hadn't anyone warned her about pain? Would it always be like that? All her books were useless.
'Lie still,' he told her. 'The pain will go away in a minute. You damned little fool, you should have warned me.' His hand caressed her face tenderly.
'If I had you wouldn't have done it,' she whimpered.
'Probably not,' he agreed. 'Why?'
'Is this the time to be discussing this?' she asked almost ruefully.
'No, angel face, it isn't,' he said. Then he was kissing her gently, softly, and moving on her with tender care.
The pain was gone almost as quickly as it had come. Her eyes closed again, and she let herself slide away into a world of sensation. Her body was accepting him far more easily now. He whispered little prompts in her ear, and she followed them easily. Her legs wrapped about his torso, and she gasped with distinct pleasure as he moved deeper into her vagina. 'Oh, yes!' she heard her own voice say, and he laughed low. The rhythm between them was like nothing she had ever experienced. This was wonderful!
'I've got to come!' he groaned. 'Sorry!'
And she felt his cum flooding her body. Emily sighed deeply with the sheer pleasure of it. 'Can I have more, sir?' she asked him.
Michael Devlin rolled off of her and lay breathing heavily for several long minutes. He had just fucked the first virgin he had had since he was fifteen, and he had never been entirely sure that Maureen Duffy was indeed a virgin, although she had sworn she was. But Emily Shanski certainly had been a virgin. Her very tight little hymen had shattered beneath the persistent battering of his penis. He had felt the warm blood. Glancing down he saw it on his dick, on her thighs, on the bedsheet that had been beneath them. 'This will not happen again,' he told her in a stern voice. But he knew he didn't mean it. He didn't care what had convinced her to give him the gift of her virginity, but he was certainly not unhappy about it. And he wanted more.
Emily propped herself up on an elbow and looked down into his handsome face. 'Devlin,' she said, 'let's get one thing straight right now. Unless you continue to instruct me in the arts of passion I will not be able to write that damned sexually explicit book Stratford wants of me. You see our problem, don't you? And you're my editor, aren't you? You're supposed to help me, right? It's your job, isn't it? I don't intend to let my career go down the toilet because J. P. Woods can't get over the fact that you wouldn't service her seven years ago.'
'My God! You seduced me!' He started to laugh. 'And here I thought it was the other way around, angel face, but you seduced me.'
'Yep,' Emily admitted, 'and now that we have my virginity out of the way you are going to teach me everything I need to know to write an explicit and sexier novel. Hell, Devlin, your ass is as much on the line in this situation as mine is,' she told him.
He grinned up at her. He couldn't help it. Here he had thought she was a prissy little miss, and that he was going to have a difficult time getting the results from her that Stratford wanted. Emily Shanski had sure as hell fooled him, and he had to admit he admired her for it. She was a survivor. 'First off, woman, I need my breakfast to restore my strength,' he told her. 'And then you have to tell me where I can get condoms. Drugstore? Shopping center? And you had better get a prescription for the morning-after pill from Dr. Sam. And some birth control pills. You're not on the pill, are you, you bald-faced little liar.'
'Why would I be on the pill? I never had sex before.' She grinned back at him.
'I'd spank you except I suspect you like it,' he told her.
'So we're going to be lovers, Devlin?' Emily asked softly.
'We are lovers, angel face. But we shouldn't be, and you know it,' he said.
'You said you wanted to fuck me the moment you saw me,' she reminded him.
'Wanted to didn't mean I would have,' he replied. 'Oh, I know the reputation I carry around: Devlin, the Irish Casanova, but I've never before banged one of my writers, Emily. You know the old saw about mixing business and pleasure.'
'How about, 'All work and no play makes Devlin much too serious'?' she teased.
'I'm sending you to the showers,' he responded.
'Only shower in the house is in your bathroom,' she said sweetly. 'Come with me?'
He shook his head in wonder. 'Jaysus! What have I unleashed?'
'Owww,' Emily said, getting up from the tangle of sheets on the bed. 'Ohh, I hurt. You're the expert. How soon will it go away?'
'See how you feel after your shower,' he suggested.
She nodded and went into the bathroom. He heard the water begin to run. What had he done? he asked himself once again. This was pure insanity. What if she fell in love with him? What a mess that would be. What if he fell in love with her? And then he admitted to himself that he was already in love with her. He hadn't known her a week, and yet the first time he had seen her he had known on some deep level that Emily Shanski was the woman he'd been waiting for his whole life.
And he had lusted for her. God, he had lusted for her. Every time this week he had thought of her for more than a minute or two he found himself getting a hard-on. How could something so magical have happened to Michael Devlin, the lady-killer, the love-'em-on-my-terms-and-then-leave-'em guy? He didn't deserve a girl like Emily Shanski, and he had damned well better keep these sixteen-year-old's feelings he had oozing out of his almost forty-year-old body to himself.
They would have a love affair that would be strictly business. Their private business. No one else had to know. He'd teach her enough to write the book the company wanted of her, and that would be that. When was the book due? End of December, he recalled. Well, they would have a wonderful summer and autumn together, Michael Devlin decided. And after that he'd tell Martin Stratford that he wanted to return to London. Random House wanted
