MY SWEET LITTLE innocent Birdy is adorable.
Adorably sexy.
Completely teachable.
Utterly fuckable.
I can mold her into everything I could ever want, and it’s tempting, so fucking tempting, to completely corrupt her and take her virginity tonight. It wouldn’t take much. She’s so damn responsive, I know I could do it.
But I want to take this slow. I want to make it good for her. And while I’ve done nothing but that the last couple of moments we’ve shared, my sexual frustration is through the roof. I’ve never had such a raging case of blue balls in my life.
I need relief.
I can’t be too demanding though. She’ll cut and run, and I can’t have that. I need her to want me, to want to do this with me. Despite my stance on relationships and never committing myself to just one girl, I’m starting to care about her.
And I want Wren to care about me too.
From the glow I see currently in her gaze, she’s hot and bothered. Needy. She likes how I’m holding her captive, my fingers circling her wrists. Her arms above her head make her thrust her chest out and I’m dying to see those tits again. They’re perfect.
Everything about her is perfect.
I remember what my brother said. How I shouldn’t let myself get tied down by a girl. It’s not the first time he’s said something like that, and most likely won’t be the last either. I know he’s right. I’m only eighteen.
But this girl…
I’m addicted.
I can’t get enough.
I release my hold on her and roll off the bed, standing next to it. She scrambles into position, sitting up and leaning against the headboard, her gaze never leaving mine.
“You want me to strip?” I sound amused because hell, I am amused. Everything Wren does tends to surprise me.
And I like it.
She nods. “Yeah. I do.”
I reach for the front of my shirt and start unbuttoning it, undoing each one slowly, revealing the white T-shirt I’ve got on underneath. She watches me with her hungry gaze, focused on my chest, and when I shrug out of the shirt, letting it fall to the floor, she releases a soft sigh.
A chuckle leaves me. “I haven’t even shown any skin yet.”
“Your arms.” She waves a hand at me. “I really like them.”
“You just say whatever’s on your mind, don’t you?”
“Only with you,” she admits, her cheeks turning pink.
“I like it, Birdy.” I grab the neck of my T-shirt from behind and yank it off in one smooth move. “You should join me.”
“Join you how?”
“You strip too.”
“Oh.” She glances down at herself. “I don’t know. I’m self-conscious.”
“And you don’t think I am?” Well, I’m really not. The appreciation I see in Wren’s eyes is a total ego boost for one. Everyone needs a girl like Wren staring at you as if she thinks you’re a god.
“No, I don’t. Look at you.” Her gaze slides over my pecs, down to my stomach.
My cock twitches almost painfully against the front of my jeans.
“Look at you,” I return, my voice low. “You’re sexy as fuck with your innocent words and fuck-me eyes.”
She blinks. “What do you mean?”
“You stare at me like you want to fuck me.” I reach for the front of my jeans, undoing one button. Then the next. And the next one after that, relieving the pressure off my dick.
Her gaze tracks my every movement. “I don’t mean to look like that.”
“It’s okay to admit you want to fuck me, Wren.” I undo the last button, letting my fly hang open, revealing the top of my black boxer briefs. “I want to fuck you.”
“You do?” She sounds surprised.
Laughter bursts out of me. “Of course, I do.”
Her smile is small. “You want me to strip with you?”
“If you want.” I keep my tone casual, so I don’t seem too anxious.
She sits up straighter, shedding her sweater and letting it fall to the floor. She’s wearing the bra she had on a couple of nights ago. The one that barely restrains her perfect tits that I can’t help but stare at.
“This isn’t so bad,” she admits, sinking her teeth in her lower lip. “I like the way you’re looking at me.”
“And I like the way you’re looking at me.” I keep my distance, trying to pace this right, when all I really want to do is jump her.
Nervous laughter leaves her. “We’re being a little ridiculous.”
“Just having fun.” I shrug.
“Is that what sex is to you? Fun?”
I can’t describe any of my previous sexual experiences as fun. I was always just looking to get off, and to make sure she got off too. No savoring or lingering necessary.
“Not really.”
“Oh.” She rubs her fingers in between the valley of her breasts, seemingly lost in thought. “I’ve always taken it so seriously. Sex.”
“I know. You’ve got a ring on your finger to prove that.” I nod toward her left hand.
Wren glances down at the diamond ring her father gave her, twisting it around and around her finger before she slowly starts to pull it off. “This has felt like a burden lately. A reminder of what I shouldn’t do.”
“If you don’t want to—” I start, but she shakes her head, cutting me off.
“No. I want to. I do.” She climbs off the bed, dropping the ring onto the nightstand before she slowly approaches me.
Toeing off my boots, I wait for her, my breath stuck in my throat, my gaze pinging everywhere, too many pretty places to look at once. Her smooth, creamy skin. Her tits straining against the lace. The dip of her waist, the flare of her hips in those jeans. She kicked off her boots when we first entered the cabin and she seems shorter than usual. Smaller.
The need to protect her is fierce. Piercing my steely heart and filling me with all sorts of unfamiliar urges. I want to haul her into my arms and never let her go. Protect her from every other asshole out there who wants to steal her from me. Because if they knew, if they knew just how sweet she is, how sexy, they’d all want her.
She reaches out, settling her hands on my rib cage, her fingers spanning wide, as if she wants to touch as much of my skin at once as possible. It’s like she’s counting my ribs, memorizing the pattern of my skin, her touch featherlight. Goosebumps rise, a shiver stealing over me, and my heart thuds harder. Faster.
Her hands slide down, fingers curling around the waistband of my jeans, her knuckles brushing my skin. I swallow the groan in my throat, holding my breath as she spreads the front of my jeans open wider. As wide as the denim will go.
Wren lifts her gaze to mine, holding steady as she slides her hand inside the front of my jeans, her fingers curling around my cock, lightly holding me. Her breaths are coming rapidly, I can tell by the quickening rise and fall of her chest, and this time around, I let the groan escape when she gives me a squeeze.
“You’re big.”
What every guy wants to hear.
Her brows lower in concern. “Will it fit?”
“It’ll fit,” I rasp. “As long as you’re wet and relaxed.”
Her tongue sneaks out, licking the corner of her lips. “I’m wet right now.”
Jesus Christ, this girl. She is unbelievable.
“So are you,” she continues. “The front of your boxers is damp.”
I close my eyes. She keeps talking like this and I’ll come where I stand.
“You touch me like that and that’s what happens,” I tell her through gritted teeth.
“Hmmm.” She continues her exploration, her other hand tugging down my jeans. I help her out, pushing them down past my hips, until they’re crumpled around my ankles and I’m kicking them off. “Oh wow.”
Her gaze is glued to the front of my boxer briefs, my cock straining, dying to be freed.
“You can touch it,” I encourage her.
“This is…you’re impressive.” She lifts her gaze to mine. “I didn’t expect you to be so big. I think you’re bigger than that guy I watched in the porn.”
I want to laugh. I want to groan in absolute agony. The innocent things she says. The simple yet highly effective way she touches me. The lust in her gaze.
She’s driving me out of my mind.
Giving in, I cup the side of her face, tilting her head back so I can kiss her hungrily. She responds immediately, her lips parting, her tongue swirling around mine. I groan, taking a step closer, my hand falling to her chest, fingers curving around one luscious tit, brushing my thumb across her nipple. It’s already hard, and I circle it again and again, making her whimper. Her fingers tighten around my dick, and she gives it a tentative stroke.
My balls clench tighter, as if I could blow at any second.
With my other hand, I reach for the front of her jeans, undoing the snap with fumbling fingers, lowering the zipper. I dive my hand into her open jeans, my fingers encountering silky material, and I press my fingers against her pussy, the material already wet.
Just as she said it would be.
“Oh my God,” she whispers when I cup her fully, my fingers pressing hard. “That shouldn’t feel so good.”
“You like that, Birdy?” I stroke her up and down, using the friction of her panties to help get her off.
She nods, a helpless whimper leaving her, and I can’t stand it any longer.
Removing my hand from her panties, I crowd her, pushing her with my body to the bed, so her ass falls heavily onto the edge. She glances up at me, her eyes wide and unblinking as she reaches for me, sliding her hand up and down the front of my boxer briefs. I thrust my hips, pressing my cock into her palm, so she knows I like that.
“Tell me what to do next,” she whispers.
“Pull me out,” I demand and her eyes flare with heat.
Wren removes her hand from the front of my boxers, so she can pull them down, slowly but surely. Until my cock springs free, bobbing directly in front of her face.
Her mouth.
She lifts her gaze to mine, once again, before she returns her attention to my eager dick. She wraps her fingers around the base, her touch gentle, her gaze curious as she studies me. Her brows lower in concentration when she squeezes me tight, and I hiss in a breath, my stomach muscles contracting.
“You like that?”
“Tighter,” I grit out, and she holds me tighter, her thumb running along the distended vein, exploring. Like my cock is a fucking science experiment.
“Doesn’t that hurt?”
I shake my head. “Feels good.”
She squeezes me from root to tip, a clear drop of pre-cum forming, and she stares at it in fascination. Then she does the craziest fucking thing.
Brushing her hair back, she leans in and drops a kiss on the very tip of my dick.
“Fuck,” I groan, wishing I could grab hold of her hair with both of my hands and force her to suck my cock. But that would most likely scare the crap out of her and I can’t do that.
“Tell me what to do next,” she encourages, her fingers slowly sliding up and down my cock. “I could give you a—hand job.”
I could tell it took a lot for her to say that, my sweet, innocent Wren. She’s not used to asking for what she wants, and my goal is to make sure she feels comfortable with me. That I won’t judge her.
I’ll give her whatever she wants.
Taking a deep breath, I tell her, “I’d rather have a blow job.”
That mouth of hers would look so damn good wrapped around my dick.
“I’ll mess it up.”
“You could never.” I close my eyes and tilt my head back, wanting to laugh at myself for standing in the middle of the room without a stitch of clothing on, save my socks. My girl sitting on the bed, arguing about giving me a blow job while she jacks my cock as if she owns it.
What the hell is happening to me right now, thinking of her as my girl. And why am I enjoying it so much?
“Oh, I could,” she says, sounding amused. “I didn’t expect it to be so veiny.”
“Wren.” Her name comes out of me as a groan, and when I glance down, I see she’s watching me, her fingers still around the base of my cock. “Whatever you want to do, just do it.”
“You want me to stroke you faster?” She does exactly that, her fingers sliding up and down, keeping a steady pace. Like I have no control of my body, my hips start to move with her and I’m basically fucking her hand.
I can’t speak. It’s been weeks of buildup. Years, really. Of wanting Wren like this. Dying for her to touch me. And now that she is, I can barely stand it. This girl is about to make me lose all control, something a Lancaster never does.
My father beat that into my head from a young age. So did my brothers. We have the upper hand. Always. Never let anyone get by you.
This girl? The sweet, beautiful girl with the mouth made for sin has totally slipped by my defenses, and I let her. Hell, I practically begged her to do it.
And I don’t care.
I’d do it all over again—for her.
She leans forward, her mouth on the tip of my cock again, and slowly, she envelops it with her lips, pulling it just inside her mouth.
Holy fuck.
She trains those big eyes on me and I grab hold of my cock, her fingers falling away, her mouth staying on me. I stroke myself into a frenzy, my body coated in sweat, my chest aching from how hard I’m breathing. I can’t look away from her, and when she pulls slightly away, her tongue coming out for an exaggerated lick, I feel the need to warn her.
“I’m going to come.”
The warning goes right over her head as she continues to lick the flared head of my cock, her tongue tracing every curve. That familiar feeling starts at the base of my spine, spreading everywhere, my skin electrified, and I know without a doubt I’m going to come.
All over her pretty face if she doesn’t watch it.
“Wren,” I bite out.
She doesn’t move.
I warned her twice.
“Fuck,” I groan as my orgasm barrels down. All the air leaves my lungs and I choke out a strangled sound, that first spurt of cum hitting her on the cheek.
She jerks away from my cock, her eyes full of surprise as I keep coming, my body shuddering, completely overcome. I squeeze my shaft, just beneath the head, and one last drop falls before I’m spent.
The room is silent, only the sound of our heavy breaths in the air. I lost complete control, something I never do with a girl. I made a fucking mess. Of myself and Wren and the bed.
She touches her cheek, her fingers coming away cum-covered, and I nearly lose it when she brings them to her mouth and gives them a lick.
I don’t know if I’ll survive the weekend, let alone the night if she keeps this up.
