The Billionaire and the Virgin Read online

  She snorted with laughter a moment before her mouth went to his. Then, they were kissing.

  Rob had learned something interesting about Marjorie this week—every kiss with her seemed to get better. Maybe she hadn’t had a lot of practice before, but now when their mouths met, she was as eager for him as he was for her. Her tongue swept into his mouth without him having to prompt her, and her lips were open and eager as they kissed and molded and meshed with one another. Her mouth tasted sweet, her tongue teasing, and he wanted to drown himself in the taste of her. Kissing Marjorie was an exquisite torture. Exquisite because he enjoyed kissing her more than he thought possible . . . and torture because he knew it would not go any further than that. His cock wasn’t listening, though. It was an optimist, and his dick was hard with anticipation, practically pressing against her soft belly under the water. He edged his hips back slightly so he wouldn’t alarm her by prodding her with it.

  Tonight, as they kissed, her hands moved from his neck and smoothed down his shoulders, her long fingers caressing his skin. And he shuddered under that light, exploratory touch. “God damn, it feels good when you touch me, Marjorie,” he murmured against her lips.

  “I like touching you,” she told him shyly, between little presses of her mouth to his. Her hands slid to his biceps and she squeezed them, testing the muscle there.

  He groaned, his brain likening that exploratory little squeeze to her hands doing the same on his cock. Now he was aching with need, his pulse throbbing from her little touches.

  “Rob,” she said, voice soft as she pressed her mouth against his upper lip, then the corners of his mouth.

  “Hmm?” It was taking all his concentration not to grab her and force her hips against his cock, to have her soft, slippery flesh cradling him. Definitely bound for sainthood.

  “How come we never do anything more than kiss?”

  Ah, Jesus. “Because you’re a virgin, sweetheart. The last thing I want to do is freak you out or make you feel pressured.”

  Her hands skimmed down his sides, up and down, tormenting him with their soft little motions. “What if . . . what if I took the lead on things?”

  He stilled, composing himself. “What . . . did you have in mind?”

  “I want to touch you,” she murmured against his mouth. “And I want you to touch me. Can we try second base?”

  “Sweetheart, we can do anything you want. But you gotta remind me what second base is.” It’d been far too long since he’d dated someone that referred to bases. “And if second base is anal, the answer is unequivocally ‘yes.’”

  She gasped. “No, not anal!”

  “Darn. What is it then?” His hands went to her hair, tugging it free of her ponytail and letting it sweep over her damp shoulders. So soft and lovely, his Marjorie.

  “It’s . . . you know. Petting. Above the belt.”

  He could practically see the flush on her cheeks. “That so? But you’re already petting me.” Her hands were still gliding over his sides, even though his remained locked in place.

  “Rob,” she said in a pleading voice. Her face burrowed against his neck. “You know what I’m asking.”

  “You’re asking me to touch you?” Goddamn, it must be Christmas.

  She nodded, her nose brushing against his skin, her head still pressed against his shoulder. If she moved one more inch, his dick was going to stab her in the belly.

  “I’ll touch you,” he said, gliding his hands up her back. “But you have to tell me if you get freaked out or uncomfortable. That’s the last thing I want.”

  “All right.” Her voice was so low it was almost inaudible.

  “You said you’ve been to second base before?”

  “Once,” she admitted. Her arms went around him and he felt her hands against his back, a mimic of his own touch. “I think I mentioned the party I went to? I was drunk and so was he. He saw how tall I was the next day and complained to all his friends that he had beer goggles on that night.”

  “That fucking little prick.” His hands clenched into fists. “There’s nothing wrong with your height, Marjorie. It just gives you an extra six inches of long legs, and I fucking love your legs.”

  “You might be the only one,” she said, and snuggled up against him before he could warn her. Then, his cock was pressed against her warm body, and she gasped. But she didn’t move away. “Is . . . that . . .”

  “Yep.” He stroked his fingers down the curve of her spine. “I was trying to keep it off of you, but it looks like that failed. Want me to go put my jeans on?”

  “I . . . no . . .” she breathed, and pressed her body a little closer to his. “I like it.”

  Dear sweet fucking god. She was pressing her hips up against him. It was like she was reading his filthy mind. “Christ. You’re perfection, you know that?”

  “I like it when you say things like that,” she told him in a soft voice, and then pressed her lips against his neck.

  He could feel his dick jerk in response, and he had to fight to keep his breathing even. If Marjorie was as unexperienced as she claimed, he was going to have to move slow as fuck to not freak her out. “I’m going to move my hands over your back,” he told her in a low voice. “Just exploring.”

  In response, her mouth pressed against his neck again, and he felt her tongue flick against his skin. Jesus, his virgin wasn’t very good with the meaning of slow, was she? His hands moved up and down her back, carefully avoiding the string-tie of her bikini top. Her skin felt deliciously warm in the cool water, and when she pressed her mouth to his neck again and began to kiss, he forgot to be slow and courteous, and grasped her ass in his hands, pressing her hips forward so she pushed even harder against his cock.

  Her gasp rang in his ear, followed by a softly shuddering breath.

  “Too much?” he asked in a low voice. If he turned his head, his lips would move against her small ear. So close, and yet he wanted her to be closer. Hell, he wanted her under him, her legs wrapped around him, screaming his name.

  “Feels good.”

  “Damn, you are absolutely my favorite virgin, sweetheart.” He noticed she didn’t protest when he used the nickname on her. Not anymore. That made him feel . . . fucking fantastic, actually. Almost as good as his cock cradled against her sex. She was tall enough that their bodies met up at all the right places, and where he’d normally stab a girl in the stomach with his cock, it was at just the right spot with Marjorie.

  From now on, he was only dating tall women.

  Fuck that. From now on, he only wanted Marjorie.

  Her own hands fluttered down his back, and then she grabbed his ass. Just as quickly, her hands pulled away again, and she gave another little shocked gasp. “I forgot you weren’t wearing underwear.”

  “Did all that skin startle you?” He chuckled. “I liked your hands. Feel free to grope me wherever and whenever.” Maybe she’d get bold enough to decide to experience his front, too. A guy’s dick could hope.

  Marjorie’s hands hesitated, and then she put them back on his ass. Her mouth went back to his for another hot kiss, and they remained wrapped in each other’s arms for a long time, the kiss going on endlessly as they tasted each other, tongues intertwining, hands gripping each other’s asses.

  His hands began to slowly knead her curvy buttocks, flexing and moving in what he hoped wasn’t an alarming sort of massage. She took the cue, her hands mimicking his motions on her skin, and she clenched at his ass and rubbed, and Christ Almighty, it felt so good that he nearly blew his load right there in the water. Needing a moment, he pulled away from her hungry mouth, ignoring her small whimper of protest.

  “How are you feeling, Marjorie?” His voice was husky with desire. One hand reached up to cup her cheek, and he brushed a thumb over one of her tiny earlobes. Were her ears sensitive? He intended to find out.

  “Good,” she said breathlessly. “Can we . . . can we keep going?”

  He’d go until she told him to stop. “Absolutely.�
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  “Are you still wigged out about the water? Do we need to go in?”

  “I can honestly say I’ve forgotten all about the water.”

  Her smile broadened, her mouth swollen from his kisses. “That was the plan.”

  “Minx,” he told her, pinching her ass. She yelped and gave a little jump of surprise, her body rubbing up and down against his. And fuck, her hard little nipples had scraped over his chest in a way that both of them had noticed.

  Marjorie sucked in another breath, and then she pressed her breasts against him again. One of her hands left his skin, and she fidgeted. A moment later, he felt the strings of her bikini top hit his hands, and realized she was untying it.

  He groaned and pulled her in for another kiss just as the fabric fell away, and this time, her bare breasts pushed against his chest. And fuck, they were nice breasts. Real breasts. Small and firm, like apples, with tiny little tips. Not big and like rocks, with distorted nipples from forcing so much silicone under the skin. “Fuck me, Marjorie, I love your breasts.”

  “Y-you do?” Her breathing grew faster, and he realized she was nervous. Hell, she was practically trembling against him. “I-I’m not exactly—”

  “Complete and utter perfection?” he interrupted. “To me, you are.”

  Her dark eyes blinked up at him in the moonlight, as if analyzing that comment. Then, she took his hand in hers and slowly moved it to one of her breasts.

  He sucked in a breath at the same time she did. It had been a long time since he’d felt a sense of wonder and reverence at touching a pair of tits, but touching Marjorie? Touching Marjorie was totally different from anything he’d felt before. Her breast was small in his hand, her flesh warm despite the goose bumps that pebbled her skin. She was either cold, or terrified—or both. His sweet Marjorie. He ran his fingers over her breast, tracing the curves of it with his fingers, his gaze on her face so he could watch each expression as it moved over her. Her eyes grew hazy as he touched her, her expression softening, and when his fingers slid along the underside of her breast, she gave an all-over body shiver.

  “Ticklish?” he asked.

  “A little,” she admitted, and her voice was so damn shy. How had she remained a virgin for so long? It was unfathomable. She was delicious—open and eager and gorgeous and all fucking his. A possessive surge shot through him, and he resisted the urge to crush her entire body against his again. She liked him touching her breasts—he’d keep doing it. He couldn’t wait to see how she reacted when he put his mouth on one of those tiny, hard nipples.

  “Want me to stop?”

  “No.” Her voice was breathless. “I really want you to keep going.”

  “Man, I love it when you fucking say that.” His thumb brushed over the tip of one nipple.

  Her entire body quivered in response.

  That was fucking glorious to see. “Do you like it when I touch your nipples, Marjorie?” His thumb stroked over the taut little bud again, flicking it with his thumbnail. He was pleased when it seemed to harden and pucker even more under his touch.

  She nodded, and then her mouth formed a soft little O of wonder when his other hand slid up to cup her other breast. He gripped both of them, enjoying the feel of her soft skin and the reactions racing through her. The expression on her face was full of emotion—shyness and wonder and arousal all at once.

  “Do you touch these when you masturbate?” he asked her, leaning in for another kiss.

  She gave him a shocked look. “Don’t ask me that!”

  He grinned. He wouldn’t tease her half so much if she didn’t react so wonderfully. “Why not?”

  “Because—because I’m not going to answer.” Her voice wobbled as his thumbs stroked her nipples again, and her expression grew dazed. “I’m not.”

  “No?” Rob’s voice was husky as he leaned in and pressed his mouth to her parted one. “I’d love to know if you do. Because I’m picturing these sweet little breasts, and you pinching your nipples while you touch yourself.”

  Marjorie’s gasp sounded more like arousal to him. And she wasn’t pulling away. Instead, her hands moved over his arms, his stomach, as if she had to touch him wherever and whenever she could.

  Lower, his mind chanted. Touch lower. But he didn’t say that out loud. Too much at once and he might short circuit his virgin’s mind.

  So he caressed her pretty nipples and kissed her, pleased when her tongue stuttered against his own with every flick of his thumbs against her sensitive skin. And when her sighs and panting started to turn to moans, he slid his tongue over her open mouth, and took the next step forward. “Can I put my mouth on your skin, sweetheart?”

  Her assent was a soft moan and a jerky nod.

  Rob’s hands went to her neck, caressing her nape, and he was pleased when she made a small sound of protest as his hands left her breasts. He pressed hot kisses against her throat, then moved to her ear, nibbling on her earlobe. She clung to him as he did, and he made a mental note that yes, her earlobes were sensitive, too. He’d bet his virgin was sensitive in a lot of fun places, and his dick throbbed with need again.

  Then he kissed lower, moving across her delicate collarbones and down her breastbone, until she was practically quivering with anticipation in his arms. He cupped one delicate breast in his fingers and brushed the nipple over his lips.

  She made a noise that sounded like “guh.”

  He couldn’t help it. He chuckled.

  Her hands curled into fists on his shoulders. “That’s not funny.”

  “It’s not funny. It’s fucking adorable.”

  “Rob,” she complained, shoving at his shoulder. “Don’t make fun of me.”

  “I’m not,” he said, and brushed his lips over that sweet nipple again. “I love each and every one of your responses, sweetheart. They’re fucking incredible.”

  She pressed closer to him, and he took the hint, pulling her nipple into his mouth, his arm locked around her back to hold her in place. His other hand went to his cock, and he began to slowly stroke it, hoping she wouldn’t notice that he was working himself under the water.

  But Marjorie was past noticing much of anything beyond herself. She moaned loudly, and her hands went to his hair, holding his head to her breast.

  And fuck, that was sexy. He began to work his cock even as he dragged his tongue up and down her nipple, figuring out what she liked. He used teeth, he licked hard, he licked soft, trying to see what would elicit the best responses from her. And all the while she moaned and clung to him like she’d never felt anything like what he was doing to her before.

  Hell, she probably hadn’t. And that just made him harder. He gave his cock a vicious stroke and immediately came, spurting into the rolling water. Hopefully she wouldn’t notice.

  “Your tongue,” she moaned. “Oh gosh, Rob, that feels incredible.”

  “I’d lick you all over if you’d let me,” he told her in a husky voice, switching to her other breast. The ache in his cock had been released, and now he was free to concentrate on her as she deserved. “From your head to your toes. And I’d probably lick your pussy for hours, just to see how you’d react when you got all sensitive and needy.”

  She shuddered against him, her little nipple tight against his lips as he spoke. “I . . . I . . .”

  “What, sweetheart?” He tongued her nipple, gazing up at her lovely face.

  A wave slapped him in the face, drenching him.

  He sputtered, and she giggled, and the moment died a little death.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  Before he could answer, another wave smacked him in the face, and he coughed, getting to his full height and wiping the water from his eyes. “I don’t think the beach is the right place for me to spend lots of time on your breasts, sadly. Not if I don’t want to drown.”

  “All right,” she said. “I guess I should find my top, then.”

  They located her top through sheer luck, as it had drifted only a short distance
away. Marjorie put it back on, and Rob watched her breasts move and shimmy as she tied everything in place. Then, when she was ready, she offered him her hand and they walked back to the shore, where Rob retrieved his clothes, put them on, and then Marjorie got out of the water. He figured she wasn’t ready to look at him naked just yet.

  He supposed that was fine.

  For now.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Rob walked Marjorie back to her room that night, and they kissed at her doorstep for what felt like forever. He wished—rather fervently—that she would invite him in, but she only gave him a shy smile and that was it. That was fine, really. He wanted her to be comfortable, and maybe he’d pushed his Marjorie a little too far with their play in the waves. Maybe she’d realized he’d jerked off while he sucked on her breasts, and that had alarmed her. He didn’t know what her boundaries were yet—mostly because she didn’t, either.

  Vaguely unsatisfied but still pleased, Rob headed back to his room and undressed, showered, jerked off, and went to bed instead of turning to his computer for late-night work.

  He’d just drifted off when a noise woke him from his sleep.

  Rob peered blearily at his dark hotel room. It was almost midnight—one hour after he’d left Marjorie. He hadn’t been asleep for long. What had awoken him?

  A soft, hesitant knock came at his door. That must have been what had roused him. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and got up, realized he was naked, and wrapped a sheet around his waist before heading to the door.

  A peek out the peephole showed Marjorie on the other side, hair tousled, looking anxious. She wore a pair of pink flannel pajamas.

  Oh, shit. He unchained the door. “What’s wrong?”

  She rushed into his room, pushing inside. Before he could ask what the problem was again, her mouth was on his, and she was kissing him wildly. Stunned, Rob didn’t respond for a moment, and then he slammed the door shut, dropped his sheet, and dragged Marjorie against him.