Page 250 of The Virgin Romance Novelist Chronicles
“I know, love. I just want to talk and hold you.”
Well, I can’t say no to that.
He guides us into our large master bedroom and helps me into bed where he pulls the covers over the both of us. When I was decorating this room, I wanted it to feel like an oasis—whites with black and green accents, almost like a spa. And that’s exactly how we treat it. It’s our little getaway, the perfect place to spend our evenings.
“Come here,” Henry pulls me on his lap so I’m facing him, his hands on my legs, his back against the headboard supporting him. He takes me in and sighs, head tilted to the side. “You’re so goddamn beautiful, Rosie.”
I cup his cheek, loving this man so much. “You’re such a good man.”
“You make me a good man.” His hands find their way under my shirt where he gently strokes my skin, his touch immediately turning me on.
“I miss you.” I press my hands against his shoulders and rock a few times on his lap. In seconds, I can feel how hard he is through my thin bed shorts.
“Rosie”—he breathes heavily—“what are you doing?”
“You started it with your wandering hands.” I rock on him again, causing him to hiss between his teeth. “Oh God, I miss you so much.” I move my hands to the hem of his shirt and pull it up and over his head, tossing it to the side. Immediately my hands fall to his chest where I explore his hard and thick pecs. “You’re so hot, Henry.”
“Rosie,” he gulps. “We can’t do this.”
“We can dry-hump, right? That’s not against the rules.”
His breathing pauses. “Fuck, can we?”
“I think so and who cares? I need this. I need you.” With that, I pull my shirt over my head revealing my bare breasts. That’s all it takes. Henry pushes me back and hovers above me, his erection tenting his shorts, enticing me to spread my legs wide. He lowers his hips to mine and presses his length against my center.
“Wait,” I say, pressing my hand to his chest. “Take my shorts off. I only want one layer of clothes between us.”
“Are you sure? I’m not going to hurt you?”
I shake my head. “No, please, I want to be naked for you.”
I want him to explore my body, to feel the new curves I’ve gained since pregnancy and experience this new side of me.
“Fuck.” He pushes his hand through his hair and then pulls back so he can pull my shorts off, baring me to the sweet night air. For a few beats, he sits back on his legs and observes me against the stark white comforter. The cool fabric electrifies my skin, adding to the yearning pulsing through my body. “Shit, Rosie, your tits are huge.” He reaches forward and pulls one into his hand where he gently massages it.
I writhe beneath him. “They’re so sensitive, Henry, be careful.”
“Fuck, I want to suck your nipples, it’s my favorite thing to do, but I’m guessing your tits are off limits right now.”
Hating that he’s right, I nod. “I think we need to leave them alone. I don’t want you to get . . . sprayed in the eye.”
He chuckles and starts to move his hips against mine. “True. What about small circles?” With his index finger, he moves it carefully around my nipple, sending a thrilling shock of pleasure straight down my spine where it pools between my legs.
“Yes.” I breathe heavily, shifting against the comforter, my hips seeking his, but he doesn’t move closer. I can feel the drape of his shorts against my aroused center, teasing and tempting me. “Henry, please, it’s been so long for me, please, just hump me. I can’t stand the torture any longer.”
His eyes darken the moment my hand reaches down and slips inside his shorts. He pauses and then wraps his fingers around my wrist, releasing me from his shorts. I’m about to protest when he presses his hips to mine and starts to thrust.
“Oh God, yesss.” My head lulls back and my hands fly above my head, gripping the comforter below me. “Just like that, Henry. I’ve missed your cock.”
Lowering his mouth, he whispers into my ear. “I’ve missed this, you, seeing you turned on. Fuck, Rosie, I can feel how wet you are through my shorts. You’re so hot, so goddamn perfect, and you’re all mine.”
He moves his hips in long hard strokes, grinding into me, thrust after thrust while one of his hands plays with my breast, making small circles. His mouth collides with mine, his hips pump against mine, his short breaths sync with mine.
“Fuck, love, where are you?”
“Right . . . there,” I cry out as my orgasm hits me faster than I expected and with the sheer force to knock me out. He rides out my orgasm, intensifying his thrusts until he stills above me and spills himself, relishing in his own pleasure.
Arms straddling me, he cracks his eyes open and takes a look at me. “Christ,” he utters in awe. “Can we . . . can we do that again?”
