The Virgin Rule Book (Rules of Love 1) by Lauren Blakely (best fiction novels of all time txt) 📗

She parts her lips, her voice a little softer, innocent and hopeful, as she asks, “Will you consume me, Crosby?”

“Will I? That’s not even a question,” I rasp out.

Every inch of me is burning up with a lust so strong, so powerful, it feels like madness.

I gaze at the sensual curve of her mouth, at the inviting skin of her sensual shoulders, at the tops of her soft and wondrous breasts. I want to touch her, taste her, please her. But we should talk about expectations.

I trail a finger down the top of her hand. “Let’s just set the rules first.”

She waggles a brow. “We’re both in sports. Rules are good.”

My grin goes crooked. “We’ll call this the Virgin Rule Book.”

“Can rule number one be we have sex?”

I laugh hard. “Yes, woman. But let’s set the less obvious ones. Look, we’re friends, right?”

“Obviously.”

“You want to stay friends?”

She rolls her eyes. “Of course. And you aren’t interested in dating, so we’re just friends with benefits. I’m down with that. Is that the second rule? We stay friends?”

“Yes. Let’s make that rule number two.”

She makes a check mark. “Friends with benefits now. Friends always.”

“Good. I like that rule a lot.” It means I won’t lose her.

I won’t fuck this up. Because I can’t fuck this up. I won’t let someone in too fast, because she’s already in. Ergo, this thing brewing between us doesn’t count as a relapse. This isn’t me cheating on my cleanse.

This is the opposite. This is safe. This is fine. This is so much more than fine. This is a call to service.

To service her. And I can’t deny my duty.

“This is part of the whole plus-one thing,” I say.

“Is that a rule, though, or more of an addendum?”

“It’s an addendum.”

“The Friends with Benefits clause.” Her expression is confident, professional. Probably the same way she looks when she’s negotiating deals.

Reluctantly, I tell her, “But rule number three is no sex tonight.”

She pushes out her bottom lip, giving me a big ol’ frown. “Why not?”

Damn, this is hard.

Pun intended. I glance down at my crotch. My dick is as hard as granite. Yeah, this is rock-fucking-hard. But there can be no wavering on this.

She matters to me. In ten years, I’ll still be her first. And in ten years, I still want to be her friend.

“I care too much about you. You’re so damn important to me. I want nothing more than to fuck you right this very second and to make love to you later tonight, but I want to make sure that you’ll have no regrets. And I want it to be special for you,” I say, my hand roaming over her shoulder and down her back.

She trembles in its wake, then nods. “I get that. But I kind of hate you for being right, because I’m so ridiculously turned on right now.” Her fingers thread through mine even tighter, her grip getting needier. Desperate, even. The look in her eyes is completely wild.

A groan works its way up my throat. “Maybe I could do something about that so you won’t hate me.”

“What do you have in mind?”

I dip my face, kissing her bare shoulder. “Rule number four. I get to make you come. A lot.”

Shuddering, she gasps. Her voice is smoky, full of longing. “Like, right now?”

I growl a yes.

Then I heed the call to action, tugging on the skirt of her dress, yanking it up higher, then higher still. There. Perfect. “Why don’t you climb onto my lap and rock that beautiful body against my cock while I play with your pussy?”

She bites her lip, grinning like she won two tickets for a trip to the moon.

That’s exactly what I intend to give her.

18

Crosby

With her dress bunched up by her waist and her legs straddling mine, I savor my first glimpse of the woman’s panties.

Let the record reflect that Nadia could wear granny underwear, boring gray ones that go all the way above her belly button, and I’d still want her.

But instead, the lace matches her dress. Burgundy. They’re lace, tiny, and the color of desire, as enticing as the rest of her.

Every inch of her.

With one hand gripping her hip, I slide my other hand between her legs, the pad of my thumb touching that delicious wet spot on the cotton panel.

A throaty gasp rewards me.

“Ohhhh.”

Her hands fly to my shoulders. She steadies herself, curling her fingers around them, gripping more tightly.

A grin breaks across my face. I love that she’s holding on for dear life. That she’s taking charge already, rocking against me, rubbing her sweet, hot center against the ridge of my cock.

The only issue is . . . my pants.

“Gimme one second,” I say, unzipping my tux pants, since, well, I don’t want to walk into the event with a wet spot on them. I push them down but leave my boxer briefs on, thinking it’s a little presumptuous to just whip out my cock for her riding pleasure.

Besides, it’s hotter like this anyway.

I tug her hips back down on the outline of my dick, rubbing her against my erection.

She groans when we make contact again, then swivels her hips.

“You feel so fucking good,” I growl as we work in tandem, rocking, rubbing, thrusting.

My hand coils more tightly around her hip. She tilts her pelvis, seeking the friction that she needs, using the outline of my erection as her pleasure device.

Fine by me.

“Use me, Wild Girl. Use my cock to get off. It’s all for you.”

She nods wildly, panting, letting her face fall into the crook of my neck as she whispers, “Please touch me now.”

“Touch you where?” I ask, teasing. “I’m waiting.”

But Nadia doesn’t hesitate. “My pussy,” she whispers.

My skin sizzles. My dick hardens impossibly more. “God, it’s so fucking sexy when you say dirty words.” I dip my fingers below the lace, pushing it to the side and touching her flesh for the very first time.

My fingers travel over tufts of soft hair, finding her hard clit.

I