Page 99 of The Virgin Romance Novelist Chronicles
I was instantly hit with nerves as I saw him take in my body. Would he take the kissing and fondling all the way? Was I ready for it to go that far? Up until now, I’d done some exploring, or at least tried to, but right now, it almost seemed serious, like this was the moment, the day I was going to lose my virginity. Did I want to lose it to Lance?
As I set the food on the counter, I looked him up and down and realized, he was a good guy. He wouldn’t hurt me, and it seemed like he cared about me. He probably would be very gentle and kind if I told him.
Instead of coming out and saying, “Hey Lance, before we get down and dirty, thought I would let you know, no one has ever been inside Virginia, so if we could take it slow, that would be great,” I would play it by ear, and if the moment sparked, if it seemed like we were going all the way, to the promised land where unicorns jumped over glitter rainbows, I would give him a heads-up.
“What are you thinking about over there?” he asked. His arms lined the back of the couch while his right leg crossed over his left knee. He looked so calm and collected, while I was fighting an inner battle, trying to decide if I should let the cat out of the bag.
Ugh, damn cats . . .
“Just looking at you,” I said casually, trying to calm my voice.
Now that I had time to think about it, I was cracking, and I could feel myself starting to drift away.
Wanting to be a big girl, I strapped on my lady balls and decided to rip off the Band-Aid. Go for it. The first time was going to be awful, I got that, so might as well just get it over with. Give Virginia some experience in the field of Cockland, and let her see what the wonder is all about when it comes to getting stuffed.
“Come here,” he said, beckoning me with his finger.
Casually, I walked over to him, trying not to stumble over my own damn feet. I could see it now: I’d trip over my own foot, fall forward with my arms out, punch him in the face and land on his coffee table, which would break under my fall. It could very easily happen given my luck.
“You’re playing hard to get, aren’t you?” he asked as I eased closer.
More like trying not to trip like a doofus and ruin the moment.
Successfully I made it to the couch where Lance instantly was on me, grabbing my hand and making me straddle his lap. Virginia had a visitor knocking on her door, and hell if the little hussy wasn’t excited to feel him.
“Mm . . . you fit perfectly on me, Rosie. I hate myself for taking so long in asking you out and then taking so long to call you.”
How was I supposed to answer that?Yea, dumbass, good job? Nah, that seemed a little harsh, so I pulled out my little giggle I kept stored for occasions where I had no clue what to say.
“You’re adorable.”
The giggle worked, so I made a mental note to keep it in my sexual toolbox. Right about now, the only thing in that toolbox was a giggle and the ability to properly put on a condom. Yup, I was a real mechanic when it came to the old horizontal tango.
Without warning, Lance wrapped his hand around my neck and pulled me in closer where his lips met mine. If I had to pay myself a compliment, I knew how to kiss. I felt good kissing; it was something I didn’t find too difficult. Keep your mouth clean, keep your eyes shut, and don’t bump noses—pretty basic stuff.
As our lips danced together, I let my hands wander. Why not? If I had a fine specimen in front of me, I might as well let my hands do some exploring, especially when his hands were on my hips and starting to ride up my shirt.
Placing my hands on his chest, I felt the definition of his pecs and tried to calculate how many times he went to the gym in a week. It must have been at least three because he had some nice muscles.
My fingers skimmed over his nipples by accident, but by the moan in his voice and the way his nipples peaked, he liked it, so I let my fingers go back over the erect nubs.
Erect nubs? Was that a term I wanted to use in my book? Seemed a little odd. Would you call a nipple a nub? It could classify as a nub . . .
Focus, I chastised myself as I told my hands to continue to explore further until they hit the waistband of his jeans. The minute my hands stilled, Lance thrust his hips up, letting me know he wanted me to go further.
I guess it was time to get serious, so I shimmied off his body and fell between his legs. I looked at him briefly to see unreserved lust, as he waited for me to take action.
Jesus, I needed a drink.
With all confidence I could muster, I looked at his tented jeans—literally tented—and undid them. Slowly, I unzipped and was met with a pair of black boxer briefs. Lance’s chest heaved from how slow I was going, and he probably thought I was trying to torment him, but in reality, I was trying to one, not get his penis caught in the zipper—talk about mood changer—and two, I was really freaking nervous.
With a deep breath, I grabbed his boxer briefs as the same time he lifted off the couch so I could pull them down with his jeans.
Once his clothing was pulled down and resting at his ankles, I shut my eyes for a second and then opened them to see his dick standing at attention.
Holy shit!
There was something wrong with his penis.
