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I should feel self-conscious under her scrutiny—the silver in my chest hair, the evidence of forty years of living etched into my skin. But the naked admiration in her eyes makes me feel powerful, desired in a way I haven't experienced in years.

"Can I touch you?" she asks, her gaze dropping to the obvious bulge straining against my jeans.

"Not yet," I reply, pressing her back slightly. "Ladies first."

Her brow furrows in confusion until I drop to my knees before her, hands gripping her hips at the edge of the counter. Understanding dawns in her eyes, followed immediately by uncertainty.

"You don't have to," she begins.

"I want to," I interrupt, looking up at her. "I want to taste you. All of you."

The flush deepens across her chest and face. "No one has ever done this to me before."

Sheryl’s innocent admission inflames me further. "Let me be the first, then."

When she's left in only simple cotton panties, I press a kiss to her inner thigh, feeling the muscles jump beneath my lips. "Relax," I murmur against her skin. "Trust me."

"I do," she whispers, and something in my chest clenches at the simple declaration.

I slide her panties down her legs, revealing all of her to my gaze. I press a kiss to her inner thigh, then higher, then higher still until my mouth finds her center.

Her sharp intake of breath turns into a moan as I taste her for the first time. Sweet and heady, the flavor of her desire like nothing I've experienced before.

I take my time, learning her body's responses, discovering that firm pressure here makes her gasp, that gentle circles there make her thighs tremble. Her hands find my hair, fingers tangling in the strands as her hips begin to move against my mouth.

"Alex," she pants, the sound of my name on her lips driving me wild.

"Let go," I encourage her between strokes of my tongue. "I've got you."

Her inexperience shows in how quickly she builds toward release, in the surprised sounds she makes as pleasure overtakes her. When she finally comes, it's with a cry that echoes through the kitchen, her body tensing then shuddering beneath my hands and mouth.

I ease her through it, gentling my touch as she catches her breath. When I finally look up at her, the sight nearly stops my heart—flushed skin, parted lips, eyes heavy-lidded with satisfaction, hair a wild tangle around her shoulders. She's never looked more beautiful.

I rise to my feet and pulling her against me for a kiss. She moans softly as she tastes herself on my lips.

Her hands find the button of my jeans, more confident now. "I want you," she says against my mouth. "Please."

I help her with the button and zipper, freeing myself from the confining denim. Her eyes widen as she takes in the size of me with hunger and determination.

"Wait," she says, her hand on my chest stopping me. "There's something you should know." She takes a deep breath, her cheeks flushing deeper. "I'm a virgin."

The words hit me, sending a surge of primal possessiveness through me that I never expected. I step back, running a hand through my hair as I try to process this. "You’re a virgin?"

"Does that change anything?" she asks, suddenly looking vulnerable sitting naked on my counter.

"Of course it does," I say, even as every cell in my body urges me to take her, claim her, make her mine. "You should have your first time with someone your own age. Someone—"

"Someone boring and fumbling and just as inexperienced?" she interrupts, fire returning to her eyes. "I don't want that. I never have."

I shake my head, trying to be the responsible one even as desire burns through me like wildfire. "You're twenty-two. I'm forty. This is—"

"This is exactly what I want," she says firmly. "I write about passion, Alex. About first times that matter. About men who know what they're doing." Her hand reaches for me, wrapping around my length with unexpected boldness. "I want you to be my first. I've been dreaming about a man like you."

Her touch is destroying what's left of my restraint. The knowledge that no one has had her before, that I would be the first to claim her body, awakens something primitive in me that I didn't know existed.

"You deserve better than being taken on a kitchen counter," I growl.

A smile plays at her lips. "Maybe that's exactly what I want." She leans forward. "Please, Alex. Make me yours."