Page 116 of The Virgin Romance Novelist Chronicles
His hands massaged and soothed me, as if he’d been feeling me up for years, sending waves of pleasure rolling through my heated veins. He knew what to touch, when to touch it, and the kind of pressure it needed. There was no hitch in his movements, just pure confidence. And when his thumbs stroked my breasts, his kisses grew even heavier, needier.
And when his thumbs pulled away, so did his lips, killing me softly with pleasure. It was pure torture, fantastically amazing torture.
Growing impatient from the pressure building in the pit of my stomach, I was about to encourage him to suck on my nipples again, but I didn’t get a chance because he was so in tune with my body he started making his way down to my breasts before I could say anything.
His mouth found one of my nipples, causing my back to arch off the bed from the light bite he applied.
“God. God, that feels good,” I said, voicing my pleasure, something I never thought I would do but given the feelings running through me, I couldn’t control what flowed out of my mouth. Delaney was right: when in the throes of passion, you couldn’t control what you said or did.
Giving the other nipple attention, I writhed under his touch, his caress, his suckle, until I felt completely spent and in desperate need for him to ease the ache between my thighs.
Slowly, he lifted his head, smiled devilishly at me, and kissed my sternum, then my stomach, then right above my pubic bone. I gasped as he lowered himself completely below me and positioned my legs over his shoulders. He had me in a provocative position, and I should have been nervous, I should have been squirming under him, but I wasn’t. I was with Henry, and I was safe.
Relaxing into the bed, I closed my eyes and allowed Henry to taste me, like he said. His fingers touched me, spreading me wide and with one small swipe, his tongue ran right against my clit.
“Uhhhhh,” I moaned loudly. My upper body relaxed as my lower half tensed with every stroke, every flick. It was an odd sensation to feel like your body was floating on a cloud, yet was building and building to this epic moment.
There were times in a girl’s life where she knew she’d remember a certain moment in time and right now, with Henry’s head between my thighs, his tongue lapping at me like I was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted, I knew I’d never forget this. This moment was about to define me as I realized Henry was going to be the first guy to ever give me an orgasm. I wouldn’t have had it any other way.
When I thought I couldn’t handle his tongue any longer, the pressure was too intense, his fingers gently swooped inside of me while his tongue stroked my clit with a strong thrust.
Fuuuck.
The room disappeared, it was just me and Henry and the way he desperately played with me, teased me, tantalized my pussy with his tongue. It felt like every nerve in my body pooled between my legs and exploded all at once, rendering me speechless. My body stiffened like a board, my toes curled, and this overwhelming sense of complete and utter pleasure overtook my body as Henry’s tongue continued to move against my clit, making my body embarrassingly convulse in all different kinds of directions.
“Fuuuuuuuuuck,” I screamed as my body finally settled back on the plush mattress, twitch after pleasurable twitch lightly shocked me.
Henry slowly pulled away and traveled up the length of my body, spreading small, feather like kisses along my impassioned skin. When he reached my face, he delighted me with a full on grin, then kissed me, letting me taste myself on his lips.
I’d read this in books before and let me tell you, I wasn’t turned on like all the other girls were. I was actually perplexed as to why Henry felt the need to have me taste myself, or have my taste on him.
“Was that your first orgasm?” he asked quietly, almost desperate to hear the answer.
“It was.”
“And did you enjoy yourself?”
Giving him a pointed look, I said, “You know damn well I did by my obscene gurgling sounds coming out of my mouth. Jesus, could I have sounded any less attractive?”
“I liked it. It was fucking sexy.” He smiled. “How do you feel?”
“Wet.” We both chuckled, the sound sweet.
“Good, do you think you’re up for more?” he asked, peeking at his cock. Oh that’s hot, he’s turned on again, just from going down on me. He was ready.
But the question was, was I ready for this? I meant, I’d actually wanted it more than anything, but hell, I was nervous. Books said it was a slight pinch, but the girls loved it after the initial barrier was broken, so it couldn’t be that bad, right?
And this was with Henry, he wouldn’t hurt me. If anything, he would be the absolute perfect man to do this with because he truly cared about me and if I wanted anyone to take my virginity, it would be him.
Wanting to finally find out, I nodded and brought Henry’s head to mine, wanting to kiss his beautiful lips and sink into his embrace. I was doing this with my best friend, with my Henry.
His body spread against mine, allowing me to once again feel his penis against my thigh, something I was starting to grow quite fond of and fast. What a weird thing to enjoy—penis against thigh. Rosie Bloom liked to write, hated cats, enjoyed Chinese food,andpenis against her thigh.
His hands wandered up to mine, playing with my breasts and teasing me relentlessly, while my hands wandered just as much but never really touching his penis. Two could play at this game.
“Don’t tease me,” he said into my neck as he kissed me up and down.
“Why not? You’re doing the same,” I said breathlessly as he pinched my nipple. “God, my nipples love you.”
