Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 76759 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76759 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
All the time watching her.
She sits down on the bed and pulls off her cowboy boots first, and then she pulls that tight black Dragonlock T-shirt over her head.
I suck in a breath.
She’s wearing a lace bra, no padding, so that’s why I could see her nipples sticking out earlier. She moves her hand behind her back, unclasps it, and then shimmies out of it, tossing it to the floor along with the shirt.
She has the most gorgeous set of tits I’ve ever seen. Big, pert, and bouncy, with brownish-pink nipples that are sticking straight out.
I quickly remove my shirt from my shoulders and toss it next to hers.
She gapes at me.
“My God, Jesse.”
“I’m glad you like what you see, because I sure like what I see as well.”
She cups her breasts then, as if she’s holding them out in offering.
My dick grows harder.
“Stand up,” I say. “Take off your jeans. Take off your underwear. I need to see that pussy.”
She stands, her legs trembling a bit, but she steadies herself. She unbuttons her jeans, unbuckles the belt, unzips, and slides them over her hips, down her thighs to her feet, exposing her beautiful long legs. She steps out of them. Only a lacy pink thong separates me from heaven.
“Take it off,” I growl.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Brianna
Part of me can’t believe what’s happening.
This must all be a dream.
I am alone with Jesse Pike in a hotel suite. Naked, my nipples pebbled into hard berries, my pussy already throbbing.
I stand here in a thong.
I wasn’t even going to wear a thong today, but when I changed out of my traveling clothes, I wanted to feel sexy, so why not?
Thongs make me feel sexy. Panty lines don’t.
Even though Jesse Pike has been clear that nothing will ever happen between us, I’m glad I wore it.
This thong is apparently my good luck charm.
So it’s a onetime thing. My heart will be broken, but at least I’ll have Jesse one time. I’ll have given my virginity to the man I’ve worshiped for so long.
Is that fair to him? He has no idea I’m a virgin. If he knew, he would probably run away screaming. Or would he? Some men like taking a woman’s virginity. God…I don’t know…
“Do I have to repeat myself?” he growls.
I slowly slide my thumbs into the waistband of the thong and glide it down over my thighs until it ends up around my ankles, and I kick it off.
He sucks in a breath.
I’m not shaved down there, only trimmed. Doesn’t seem to matter to him. Thank God I shaved my armpits and my legs before we left Denver.
He’s still wearing his jeans, but the bulge beneath them is apparent.
This may be only physical for him, but at least he wants me.
I want to tell him to finish undressing, but I can’t speak because I can’t stop staring at his perfectly sculpted chest. Black hair in just the right amount scatters over his pecs. His shoulders are broad and golden. And his abs. God, his abs…firm and perfect with that sexy V that points to his cock. Again, I want to tell him to finish undressing. To take off those jeans so I can see as much of him as he’s seeing of me.
But the words are caught in my throat.
My entire body is on fire, yet goose bumps erupt. How can that be?
My nerves skitter underneath my flesh, and flames ignite between my legs.
I’m wet. So wet.
Will it hurt?
After all my years of horseback riding, I can’t have much of a hymen left.
And already I know Jesse Pike’s going to be huge.
I’ve seen men’s dicks before. Handled them, sucked them. I just never let one inside me.
That ends tonight.
Jesse unhooks his belt, discards his belt buckle—which is not the one I gave him.
Did he bring it with him? Does he even care?
I should stop this.
I should stop this before I let him take my virginity. He may never forgive me.
But I can’t stop it.
I’m powerless against my aching need for him.
In slow motion, he slides the leather of his belt out of the buckle, unsnaps, unzips his jeans.
He slides them over his hips, steps out of them.
He’s wearing gray boxer briefs that cling to his muscular thighs, and the bulge…
My God, the bulge.
Already, a tiny drop of liquid is apparent on the fabric of his boxer briefs.
“You sure about this?” he growls. “The condoms I brought are in my lost bag. I swear I’m clean, though, and it’s been a while for me.”
“I’m on birth control, and I’m clean.”
Of course I’m clean. I’ve never done this.
He slides the boxer briefs over his perfectly formed ass, and his cock springs out, giant and hard and beautiful.
I gape at him. At the black bush that surrounds it, at the twin veins marbling over the granitelike surface.