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

I consider the pint container, then I’m floored. “Wait. Is this even organic?”

He wiggles his brow and lifts a finger to his lips. “Shhh. I’m breaking all the rules tonight.”

Maybe that’s what we’re doing. A little rule bending, then we’ll return to the way we were.

But when we put the ice cream away, he tugs me close and loops an arm around my waist. “Ask me to spend the night. Hint: I’ll say yes.”

I grin from the depths of my soul. “Spend the night.”

“Yes.”

He takes me to bed, tugs my back to his chest, and asks if I want to go again.

“Hell yes.”

This time he slides behind me, hooks my leg over his thigh, and enters me like that, taking the lush and scenic route to pleasure. He makes love to me as we spoon, until I’m coming, and he’s coming, and it feels like we’re new lovers, old lovers, true lovers.

Especially when he draws me close afterward. When he threads his hands in my hair. And when he whispers, “You do make me break all the rules. I’m pretty sure rule number five was don’t fall for each other.” He shrugs, his lips curving into a what can you do grin. “But I broke that.”

My heart leapfrogs over itself. My smile won’t be denied. “Guess I broke that one too.”

Problem is, the rules don’t say what happens now.

In the morning, I know I want this much to happen: food and orgasms.

We shower together, and when Crosby asks me to turn around so he can wash my hair, I shoot him a dubious look.

“Is that code for something?”

“You think I’m going to do something naughty to you while I wash your hair?”

I shrug. “Maybe.”

“Do you want me to?”

“No, but maybe once you rinse out the shampoo, I’ll want you to,” I say, dragging a hand down his pecs and over his abs before he turns me around. “Or maybe now.”

He presses a kiss to the back of my neck, making me shiver. I murmur as his lips sweep over my skin, down my back, along my spine. The sound of his knees touching the tile echoes in the steamy shower stall.

He brushes his mouth over the curve of my ass, then nibbles on my flesh.

And oh my.

That feels . . . incredible.

I had no idea butt-biting was the best.

But it is. Oh, holy hell, it is.

He works his mouth over my ass cheeks, biting and nipping.

A storm gathers inside me, building in intensity as he nibbles.

I moan and groan, louder and even louder, as his tongue maps my flesh, as his teeth mark my skin.

A pulse beats between my legs, insistently, exquisitely.

I’m pretty sure he’s discovering that my ass is an erogenous zone. I’m discovering it too, because I had no idea. Now I do, and I like it.

I like the attention he’s giving to my rear. I love his hands on my flesh, his mouth on my skin, his teeth sucking and biting.

Is he going to take my ass someday?

Dear God.

What’s come over me? I tossed my V card into the bonfire of pleasure, and now I’m going to give up my ass virginity too?

Also, hey, isn’t he supposed to be washing my hair?

But who cares about clean hair when his tongue is caressing the outline of my cheek right where it meets my thigh, right where it feels spectacular?

He travels along the seam of my ass, and I’m pretty sure my bones turn molten and my blood is lava.

“Is it supposed to feel so good?” I moan.

Crosby growls then nibbles on my butt again. “Had a hunch you’d like that,” he whispers, then rises up and slaps my ass.

I yelp and I smile at the same damn time as a delicious cocktail of pleasure and pain wings through my cells. “You did? How did you know?”

Lips land on my shoulder. Hands slide up my stomach, traveling to my breasts. Firm arms cage me in. “Because you loved when I played with your ass last night while I went down on you,” he whispers. “When I squeezed you hard as I ate your pussy.”

A shudder rips through me, igniting an intense, powerful wave of sparks. Like fire shooting through my veins.

I gasp, aching for him. “Can you do that again? Knead my ass as you finger me? I think I’ll love that too.”

His teeth land on my neck, possessive and hungry, chased with a groan that sounds like it was ripped from his chest. “I love how you ask for what you want, Nadia. You’re so damn bold. It turns me on so much. Everything about you turns me on,” he rasps, pushing his cock against my ass, the hard length of him pressing against my cheeks.

“I like asking you for what I want. I love that I can,” I say, opening up to him in yet another way.

I shudder against him, then he lets go of me, spins me around, and meets my gaze. His eyes darken to midnight blue, shimmering with wild arousal. “You can ask me for anything. I want you to. I want to give it to you.”

“Thank you.” I loop my arms around his neck. “I mean it. I’ve had all these desires, all these wants. And to act on them with you . . .” My voice catches, and I’m not entirely sure how to finish. We’re talking about sex, but we’re also talking about intimacy.

True and real intimacy.

That’s what I feel with Crosby.

Dipping his face, he drops his lips to my jaw, bites me, then pulls back. “I want you to share them with me. Your desires. Your wants,” he says, his tone edging toward desperate. He sounds as lost as I feel. “Share them anytime. I’ll give them to you.”

I shake with the emotions and lust surging through me all at once, twining together like strands of a rope. “I will.”

“Good,” he says, low and smoky. “Now, let me give you what you asked for.”

He backs me into the