Virgin Romance by Penny Wylder

Epilogue

Six Months Later

I put down a box in my new kitchen, and glance around. I’m in love with the new apartment. Even under the sea of Andrew’s boxes and mine it’s gorgeous. All hardwood floors and tall windows, stainless steel and granite. Even better, it has a room that’s going to be just for me and my music. I can’t wait to dive back in. This week is my last week working at Finch & Howell, a young firm that’s done amazingly well for its first six months. That’s Andrew for you, he’s so charismatic that a lot of his old clients followed him, and a lot of new ones showed up. He finally threatened to fire me if I didn’t quit to work on music again. It turns out there’s a surprisingly large music community here in Florida…

I go into what will soon be my studio. It’s beautiful, with a window seat and dark wood paneling. I can see in my head where I want the keyboard to go, and my computer set up. I’ll put up some noise dampeners and a microphone. Yeah—it’s going to work. I can practically feel the music itching under my skin, waiting to get out. I hear the front door to the apartment open and head back into the kitchen.

Andrew comes in with a box and puts it down. I’ll never get tired of watching him lift things. “That’s the last of it,” he says.

“Finally,” I laugh. “Now comes the hard part.”

“Yeah, but that hard part can wait.”

I frown. “Not really, because if we don’t unpack anything we’ll have nothing to sleep or eat on.”

He takes his shirt off in one motion and wipes the sweat from his face. “We will, don’t worry. But right now, there’s a different hard part that I want to pay attention to.”

“That might be the worst pick-up line you’ve ever attempted,” I say, rolling my eyes.

He’s smiling, while at the same time walking toward me. I know that walk. That walk that says ‘I’m about to seduce you.’ “I’m sure I’ll have worse. Besides, I think it’s important that we christen the place properly. Right away.” He lifts my shirt over my head and tosses it behind him.

“We did that when we saw the place.”

“But we own it now.”

I cross my arms, but I’m still smiling. “You’re very motivated.”

“Yes I am.” He moves toward me, pulls my arms down, and covers my neck and chest with hot, fast kisses that leave me panting.

I wriggle out of my jeans as Andrew takes out his phone. “Let’s see, what shall we do today. I have some ideas.”

Him and that damn list. He’s very dedicated to it, and we’ve been crossing off things one by one. He pulls me into the living room. It’s a wasteland of boxes, but flooded with light from the windows. The rest of our clothes lose themselves along the way. “Kneel down,” he says.

I raise an eyebrow, but I don’t question. The things on the list usually end with me screaming Andrew’s name.

As soon as I’m kneeling, Andrew is on the ground, and then he’s underneath me and his tongue is inside me and I gasp at the sudden burst of pleasure. “We’ve done this before,” I say.

“Not like this,” he answers, the vibrations from his voice moving through me.

He plunges his tongue further into my pussy, caressing me from the inside and making me shudder. He licks me from top to bottom and back, swirling and drawing designs across my clit. I can never tell where his mouth will touch me next, and the anticipation makes me wetter than I already am.

He hums against my clit, making it vibrate again. “I never get tired of the way you taste.” His words are almost lost, more felt than heard.

Suddenly the very tip of his tongue is working me. Around my clit, up and down and over, dipping inside me before coming back again. Sealing his lips over me, he sucks me deep, and I feel the beginning of an orgasm rise. But that’s not what Andrew has planned.

Releasing me, he pushes me off his mouth and down his body to where his cock is waiting, tilting me back until I have to put my hands on the floor behind me for support. As I lean backward, he thrusts into me firmly and immediately. “Oh,” I say, because it’s all there is to say. This is a position we haven’t tried yet, though now I’m going to kill him for not picking it from the list sooner. From this angle he fills every part of me. He’s stretched against the walls of my pussy, pushed in to the hilt, and sitting like this he feels even bigger than normal.

I roll my hips, pushing him out and in, and I hear a deep sound from Andrew. I roll my hips again, and he moves his hips with me, and I have to close my eyes. My body knows what it wants, and I can barely control the movement as I ride him and he fucks me, both of us approaching the edge together. I reach down and touch my clit, circling and pressing and sliding, and oh god there it is, yes yes yes.

It is shattering. My eyes are closed and my hips are still moving, milking the shocks of pleasure his cock sets off inside me with every movement. I’m heaving in air and still feeling aftershocks when I feel Andrew’s body tighten underneath me, his strokes growing short and fierce. I don’t hesitate, pulling off him, turning and moving and covering him with my mouth. He thrusts again once, twice, and I feel him come before I taste it. I swallow it all down, the creamy taste of him mixing with my own juices on his cock. He groans, reaching down to pull me off him. “I don’t think that was part of the plan.”

“Spontaneity,” I say, grinning. Then I kiss him, mouth open, because I can, and because I know the deviant side of him loves the idea of tasting his own come on his lips. “So is the apartment officially christened now?”

He pulls me against his side, tucking his arms around me. “This room is.”

“You have plans for every room?”

He laughs, a dark and sensual sound. “I’m disappointed that you didn’t think I would.”

I have a response, but I forget it as he kisses me. So the list will continue. I can’t say I’m disappointed.

“I don’t think I’ve told you that I love you today,” he says.

“Funny, I don’t think you have either.”

“Well, Naomi Grayson, I love you. I love every bit of you, and I plan on showing you in very creative ways. For a very long time.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Spontaneously?”

He pulls me on top of him again and I lose my breath. “Of course.”

* * *

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Copyright © 2017 Penny Wylder

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or businesses, organizations, or locales, is completely coincidental.

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1

I really thought that parties like this only happened in movies. The music is loud, there are red cups everywhere, and the dim corners are filled with people touching, kissing, going as far as they can in public.

I’m not really sure why I’m here. I mean, I know, but it still feels weird. I’m here because Kara invited me. How she got an invitation to a frat party before school even started, I have no idea, but I’m here to make sure she’s okay. I’ve heard way too many stories, and there’s no way I’m leaving her alone with a bunch of drunk frat guys at her first college party.

That, and there’s the pact. Our virginity pact. We made it almost the minute that our first sex ed class was over. Boys were still icky, our heads were full of romance, and we swore to each other that we would wait for the right one.

I didn’t think it would last as we got older, but it has. Kara takes it seriously, and she wanted backup, so here I am. I’m basically being the embodiment of awkward too. You’d think I’d be better at this—I’ve been to parties before in high school, and I’m not dumb enough to think that I wasn’t a part of the popular crowd.

But this party seems so much bigger, wilder, louder. Just more. I guess I’ll have to get used to that. Pretty much all of college is going to be more than I’m used to. I take a sip of my drink and make a face. Beer has never been my thing and this isn’t good beer.

A guy runs through the house, weaving through people with what looks like a full-blown torch in his hand, the flames flying up towards the ceiling. He’s being followed by other guys cheering him on. I have no idea what’s going on there. The last guy in the line is running too fast, trying to catch up, and he slips, crashing straight into me.

I try to keep my balance, but it’s impossible, and I fall backward, my drink flying out of my hand. I land on the floor just in time to see my drink land on the girl behind me. Whoops.

I push myself to my feet as the girl turns, eyes seething with anger. “I’m really sorry,” I say. “I was a collateral damage from whatever that was.” I gesture in the direction the torch-followers went. It takes me a second, but I realize I know this girl. “Marian, right? From the Cheer prep session?”

This summer, Central Georgia State had a two-week training session for their current cheerleaders and any incoming freshman who wanted to be considered for the team. It was a way to get some early team building in and give everyone trying out a head start on what the team is like.

A sickly sweet smile forms on Marian’s face. “Right. You’re one of the little freshies who was trying sohard to be something she’s not. And now you’re here, ruining my night.” She takes a step closer to me. “Do you have any idea who I am or how miserable I can make your life? Think twice about spilling your drink on me next time.”

As she invades my space, I feel the people around us starting to look, to stare, waiting for the drama to explode. I guess there are some things that will be just like high school.

I’m opening my mouth to protest, to tell her it was an accident again, but another voice speaks first. “Are you okay, babe? I saw you get pushed.”