The Virgin Replay by Lauren Blakely
Sierra
Finally.
I’m a horse at the races, raring to go.
But seriously?
After all these years, after all these nights, after all my planning,
I’m wearing freaking white.
The utter irony.
I wanted black lace. Pink satin. Or a sexy red teddy. Something hot and fiery to match my desire.
I certainly don’t feel virginal.
Wildly curious is more like it.
And yet, I’m in white cotton panties and a cami. The color of innocence.
But then, as I gaze down at my erect nipples poking through the fabric, my panties already soaked, perhaps white is insanely sexy.
Since it reveals all my desire for this man.
A man who gazes at me like he plans to ravage me all night long.
Except . . . his expression shifts.
Uh-oh. Why does he look like someone told him he could never have chocolate-covered strawberries again in his life?
His brow pinches. “I don’t have a condom, Sierra. But I’ll go to the concierge right now and get one,” he says, sliding to the edge of the bed at Mach speed.
I grab his arm right as he reaches for his shorts, stopping him. “I’ve been wanting to sleep with you for a year, Chance Ashford. I am one hundred percent prepared,” I say, like a woman in charge of her pleasure.
He growls. It’s the hottest sound I’ve ever heard.
“I’ve got everything we need,” I add. “I brought a bunch, in fact.”
Chance breathes out hard, shuddering. “That is the sexiest thing any woman has ever said to a man in the history of the universe.”
With wicked glee rushing through my veins, I hop out of bed, grab my purse, and return with it in a second. I unzip it with excited fingers. Maybe too excited. As I root around in the inside pocket, I miss the condom I’m aiming for. I laugh, embarrassed. “I guess I’m a little nervous,” I admit.
Moving behind me on the mattress, he dips his face to my neck, brushing my hair out of the way. He presses a soft, tender kiss to my nape that makes me swoon. My eyes float closed, and I relish the warm tingles that spread over my skin.
“I can take it slow, Sierra,” he says softly as he kisses me.
I take a beat, savoring the haze of bliss surrounding me. Then I grab the protection from the pocket, set the purse down on the nightstand, and swivel around, crawling onto the bed. I thrust the wrapper at him. “Don’t you dare take it slow,” I say, giving a clear command.
He threads his hand through my hair, gripping the back of my head. “You sure you know what you like?”
“I do.”
Chance tugs on my hair again, pulling me closer. His possessive touch sends small pinpricks of blissful pain through my body—a pain I crave.
He loosens the grip. “Tell me then. I’m game for anything you want.”
Images dance through my head. The array of videos I’ve watched over the years. “So many things turn me on,” I admit.
His grin is wicked as he pulls me onto his lap, wrapping my legs around his waist, urging me to grind against his hard-on.
“I’m listening,” he says in a low rumble as his hands curl tightly over my hips, his thumbs digging into my bones. This man already knows to manhandle me and that makes me hot. A man who listens, a man who wants to give me my fantasies.
My ex had no interest in my pleasure. He had no curiosities about my dirty dreams. We never talked about sex in detail.
So, this is a first too, and I damn well want Chance to know. “I’ve never said these things out loud to a man,” I confess as I rub my center shamelessly against the firm length of his cock.
“Good. Tell me, Sierra. I want to hear them, want to know your wishes,” he murmurs, sounding desperate as he lavishes open-mouthed kisses along my neck, nipping my flesh as he goes.
He pulls back, meets my gaze, and patiently waits.
I unravel my desires for him. “I want to ride you. Hard and fast and fearlessly.”
His jaw goes slack. Breath stutters. “Check,” he says.
“I want you to pull my hair like you’ve been doing. Smack my ass. Bite my tits,” I say, lust whipping through me.
His murmurs turn into a savage groan. “Done. Consider it fucking done.”
My hands clasp his shoulders tightly as I rock against him. “Want you to rip off my panties.”
Moaning, he slides a hand down my stomach, between our bodies. He wedges the heel of his palm against the panel of my panties, rubbing hard. “You mean these soaked panties? The ones that are absolutely useless because you’re already so fucking wet?”
Lust radiates from my core out to my limbs as I pant a yes. “Those panties,” I murmur, then, tell him another fantasy. “And I want you to fuck me on all fours.”
“Woman.” Chance drags a hand over his face. “We’re going to need more than a few nights to make it through this Christmas list.”
Yes, we will.
And I can’t wait for all the naughty gifts.
Chance reaches for my cami, yanks it off in one rough tug, tosses it carelessly to the floor. “Your tits . . . I’ve got to worship them, Sierra.”
He lowers his face to my chest, draws a nipple into his mouth and sucks. A sharp, hot jolt of pleasure shoots through my body, racing through my veins.
Grabbing his head, I jerk him against me, relishing the closeness. He rewards me with a nip of his teeth, and I shudder.
“Yes,” I whisper, craving more.
I can feel him smile, like he’s so damn pleased to know how much I enjoy his rough touch. He licks and drags his teeth over my sensitive skin, then bites down harder.
“Oh God,” I rasp out.
I am a live wire. I am shaking everywhere. My whole body pulses.
He raises his face and grabs my hips.
I expect him to gently shift me off him, to set me on my back. Instead, he lifts me, then simply tosses me onto my stomach.
Oh. Oh yes. I like being manhandled very much.
He gets off the bed, stands at the foot. “Watch me,” he says, giving a rough command.
Raising my face, I stay in place like that, on my stomach, the center of my body aching as I stare at this gorgeous man, tall, built, rippling with muscles. His chest is covered with a fine dusting of hair that travels down in a delicious happy trail to where his hands go next—the waistband of his black boxer briefs.
A drop of liquid darkens the fabric. That thrills me, knowing he’s so turned on that his dick is leaking for me.
He pushes the boxers down and his cock springs free. Hard, long, and hungry for me. Wrapping a hand around his shaft, he strokes down, once, twice. Heat pools between my legs as I stare shamelessly at his cock.
“You like that,” he says. “Me stroking myself for you.”
“So much,” I moan. He moves from the foot of the bed around to the side. Craning my neck, I watch as he slides his hand down my back, stopping at my panties. He pulls hard on the cotton fabric, then laughs. “Sorry, Sierra. I don’t think I’m going to be able to rip these off tonight. If you have lace, I can rip that tomorrow night.”
“I do,” I say, as a thrill rushes through me over these plans—plans for more sex, more playing.
“Good. Then for now I’ll do this,” he says, then lowers his face, drags the edge of my panties between his teeth, and tugs them down over my ass.
With his mouth.
I nearly die from the sexiness of the moment. When he has the panties at the edge of my ass, he presses a kiss to one cheek, then the other, before he nips my butt.
I groan like an animal. “Ahh, that feels so good.”
Grabbing the fabric, he tugs them off the rest of the way, and throws them on the floor. He pushes me farther up on the bed, spreads my legs and kneads my ass. “I’m going to fuck you like this. With you on your stomach, me driving deep into you.”
Climbing on the mattress, he covers me with his body, his hard cock sliding against my ass.
I tremble, pleasure ripping through me like a current. “I want that,” I say, utterly desperate for his passion, his abandon.
Chance yanks me up on all fours, kneels behind me, and plants another kiss on my cheek as he slides a hand between my thighs. I gush, heat flooding my center. I’m outrageously wet.
“Oh, gorgeous,” he moans as his fingers slide through my slickness. My back bows and I move with him, seeking more of his touch.
“Please,” I groan.
“You’re soaked. So fucking slippery. So hot,” he says, praising me as he teases my clit. Sparks shoot through me everywhere, and I’m floating high above the earth.
My mind spins, pleasure traveling through every cell as he strokes me all while kissing my ass, nipping the flesh.
Desire swirls in me.
I feel out of control.
Wild.
Desperate.
I rock into his touch. “A little harder,” I urge him on. He goes faster, rougher, then he slides a finger into me.
I gasp.
“You like that?”
“I do.”
Another finger, another crook of it inside me. I clench, shaking as I claw at the sheets.
He keeps that up, rubbing my clit, stroking my pussy, nipping my flesh. Ecstasy throbs in me as my climax nears, then arrives boldly, bursting through my body in a hot blur of pleasure.
“Yes, yes, yes,” I shout, shaking everywhere, falling into a heap of satisfaction on the king-size bed.
Yet I’m still hungry for more.
A few seconds later, he scoops me up, pulls me into his arms, and kisses me.
It’s a slow, lush kiss that makes my head feel hazy.
My chest goes woozy.
I feel drunk on pleasure.
When he breaks the kiss, he settles onto his back on the bed, grabs his cock, and slides a thumb over the head, moving a drop of liquid arousal around the crown. His eyes are hooded, glimmering with desire.
“I want to see you fuck my cock, Sierra.”
Dear God. I hit the jackpot. This good guy is a filthy fucker in bed, like I’ve always wanted.
“I’m ready,” I say, straddling him.
He reaches for the condom, opens it, slides it down his length, then pulls me to him. But before I can line up and take a man inside me for the first time in my life, he curls a hand around my face, draws me close and kisses me again. Tender and gentle. He murmurs softly as his lips explore mine. When he lets go, he whispers, “I’ll fuck you hard and good, but sometimes I want to kiss you soft and gentle. Because that’s how I feel for you,” he says, his tone hooking into my heart.
I’ve chosen wisely.
I know too that I’ve chosen a man who doesn’t just want to fuck. He feels something for me. Perhaps the same something I feel for him.
Is it just desire? Only wild lust? Or something else?
For a flash of a second, he looks at me like this could be more. Like there’s longing. Like there’s possibility.
As I straddle him, possibilities spark all through my veins, my mind, my body.
Possibilities of nights and days.
But that’s all too much to consider.
Right now, I want to feel all the dirty things.
Pleasure. Just pleasure. That’s all I can handle.
Taking his thick cock in my hand, I rub him against my wetness, then draw a sharp inhale.
His hand slides down my arm. “We can stop anytime if it hurts,” he says.
My heart beats harder. “I love that you say that. I love that you’re concerned.”
“I mean it, Sierra. I want to give you everything you want, but if something doesn’t feel right to you, just tell me. You mean more to me than sex,” he says, so earnest that my chest squeezes.
And I feel that possibility once again. It scares me but it also electrifies me.
I look into his eyes, nodding as I lick my lips. “I promise.”
To say that feels just as good as this bliss does.
Then I lower myself onto him, my breath hitching.
The first inch is full and delicious. Like when I take vibrators into my body. Then I slide down more, bring him deeper. The sensations intensify. Some are good; some are bad. I close my eyes. For a few seconds, everything in the center of my body hurts, a painful stretch.
Chance seems to sense it. “Take it slow, gorgeous,” he says.
I nod, adjusting, getting used to him. To the odd sensation of being stretched wide open.
Another breath.
Letting the air fill my body and relax me, I sink down the rest of the way. It’s still strange, still intense. But soon, the pain ebbs, melts into pleasure.
Only pleasure.
And I ache for more of him.
I set my hands on his pecs. His big palms wrap tight around my hips as his gaze stays locked on my face. “Set the pace, gorgeous. Whatever you want.”
I rock my hips back and forth.
Thrusting.
Swaying.
Taking.
Feeling.
So, this is sex.
So, this is fucking.
And it feels as good as it looked all those years.
That’s because of the man I’m with. A man I want to get closer to. I rock and I move, swiveling my hips as he grabs me, pulling me closer.
“You feel incredible,” I whisper.
His eyes are hazy, fiery. “No, you do. You feel so fucking good,” he grits out.
“We do, then,” I correct.
“Yeah,” he says on a moan as he squeezes my ass, kneads the flesh in just the way I’ve been wanting.
He hauls me in for a deep, possessive kiss. Pleasure shoots through me everywhere, coiling in the center of my body, flinging itself through my veins out to my toes, to my fingertips.
I feel good everywhere. So good I sense my climax isn’t far away. But I want to make sure it happens. So I break the kiss, rise up, set a hand on his chest. “I’m going to play with myself,” I tell him.
He groans, a savage, wild sound that echoes through the room. “Do it. I want to watch.”
I slide my hand between my legs, teasing at my clit, savoring the tight, hot knot of sensations. I’ve had plenty of orgasms. I’ve given myself countless ones. He already gave me one tonight.
And I know my body, so I can tell the next one isn’t far off. The exquisite ache between my legs intensifies and I stroke faster, knowing exactly how to get there.
But even though I can get there on my own, Chance is with me completely, thrusting deep inside my body as I rub my clit.
He’s in every moment with me.
Wanting my pleasure.
Chasing it desperately too.
Sensation seizes me, commands my cells, tightens every muscle. I gasp, freezing as I shatter, bliss cascading everywhere inside me in a wild, intense orgasm that blots out the world.
I shout, calling his name, shaking.
When I’m about to collapse on him, he grabs my hips, flips me to my back, and shoves my knees up practically near my shoulders. He drives deep into me, like an animal. “Need to fuck you hard. Say it’s okay.”
“It’s more than okay,” I say, and he fucks me hard, making me feel incredible all over again as he groans, grits his teeth, then grunts, “Coming.”
The man shudders.
He’s always been beautiful to me.
But he’s beautiful in a whole new way as he loses control inside me, coming hard, then collapsing onto me.
I smile, thrilled at the decadence, the deliciousness.
And how good we feel together. “You convinced me,” I whisper playfully.
He takes a few seconds, then laughs. “All I ever wanted,” he says, then hugs me tight. “And so’s this.”
