“No,” she said, licking her lips. “No, I want to—”
“We don’t have to. We can play—”
“Phoenix,” she said, crawling around the table to kneel by his leg. “You won the game.” Sliding her trembling fingers onto his thigh, she pushed them further while rising on her knees. “You can pick your prize.”
“You’re no prize, Lamb,” he said, laying his hand on hers. “You’re not a thing for any man to win.”
“My virginity can be your prize,” she said. “You can take anything you want.”
Sitting up, he linked his fingers between hers and bowed over them until his mouth almost touched hers. “I plan to. You will be mine, Little Lamb. Tonight and every other night.”
“Yes, sir,” she said on a smile just a moment before their lips met.
Shyla’s expectation of a deep, passionate kiss was turned on its head when he kept the joining brief. As his mouth left hers, he drew her arm up to hook it around his neck and then stood, scooping her from the floor.
On their walk from the living room to his bedroom, her atoms jumped and fizzed. Their bedroom. The door was already open, she’d left it that way. Nothing slowed them down and she was ready. In her stomach, a simmering need became blind determination. Shyla wanted this. Wanted him.
Phoenix put her on the bed, but didn’t join her. While admiring her, he began to strip. When he’d asked her to strip at the start of the night, Shyla had complied, despite her nerves. Just that morning, she’d seen Score naked for the first time. She couldn’t imagine a time when she might get used to it, when seeing his defined form would be pedestrian.
She shifted to the middle of the bed as he walked around it. When he got to the bottom, he stopped.
Waiting, watching, nothing happened so she rose onto her elbows.
“Shyla,” he said, standing there shirtless and barefoot, his hands on the waistband of his jeans.
“I want to. I’m sure,” she said, hearing his question without him having to voice it. “I’m ready. I know I am.”
That was enough for him. Pushing down his jeans and underwear, he stood naked before her, a perfect sculpture of a man. She wanted to admire him all night but barely got a few seconds to drink him in. He dropped onto the bed, crawled over her, capturing her prone form beneath the cage of his.
“You’re not ready,” he said. “You have to trust me. Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” she said, her gaze locked to his while her fingertips touched his solid arms.
“No touching,” he said, confusing the hell out of her. “Do I need to tie your hands?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head.
“Put them on the headboard.”
Stretching her arms above her head, Shyla curled them around one of the bars. “Why can’t I—”
“Shh,” he said. “Trust me.”
Of course she trusted him. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t be lying in such a vulnerable position beneath him. He kept his body above hers, but dipped close enough to kiss her. The long sweep of his sure tongue relaxed hers. It relaxed all of her; he relaxed all of her. Their kiss was long and slow, still not the deep frenzy of passion that she expected. The whole thing wasn’t like she expected.
In her fantasies of him, of being with him, they were both in such a heightened state of need that their joining was fast and hard. Picturing it without knowing how it felt was always frustrating. Now she was getting a taste of the truth, of how it really was to be with him.
His mouth pressed hers once more then it drifted away to explore the rest of her body. The sensations of his lips on her neck as his hand searched her body were almost more than she could bear. Squeezing her fingers around the headboard, Shyla didn’t even care about leaving nail marks behind. Keeping them away from him was driving her nuts.
“Phoenix,” she whispered, wriggling and writhing beneath him, unable to stay still.
“Shh,” he said, his teeth together against the nipple his mouth was spoiling.
“I can’t,” she panted, desperate to touch him, desperate to contribute and to play.
Heat suffused every crevice of her being. Inside and out, she was learning new ways to feel, new ways to experience him. Her mouth opened to take in a long breath. As she exhaled, a whine vibrated from her throat. He was more than skilled. His experience dwarfed hers, but if being with him was going to feel that way every time, she wouldn’t be able to restrain herself.
“That’s it,” he said. “Just feel, baby… Feel yourself becoming mine… Every inch of you belongs to me now, Shy.”
She managed another whimper. “Mm.”
Everything about her wanted to be his and even if it took her a lifetime, she’d find a way to return this indulgence to him. On his knees, he ran his fingertips down her torso until his hands clutched at her hips.
Anticipating his dick slipping into her, she opened her eyes, seeking his. Before they did, he flipped her over, arranging her legs on either side of his again.
For the first time a whisper of trepidation crept in. Shyla didn’t want him trying anywhere else before she’d had a chance to feel the real thing. She should’ve known better than to worry. He lay over her, still keeping his weight braced above her, and kissed the small of her back. That gentle kiss wasn’t the only gift his mouth planned to give. The tip of his tongue ascended, skimming her spine with a feather touch until it reached the back of her neck.
Shivers of something she couldn’t even call arousal shimmered through her. They met her heat with a tickle of desire unlike anything she’d
