Page 23 of Tall, Dark, and Grumpy

“What was that?” I’m a bit afraid of what my tipsy girl might have thought of.

“You helped me once this evening, by pretending to be my fiancé.” She takes a deep breath. “Would you help me with something else?”

“If I can,” I reply cautiously.

“I wanted to get rid of my V-card this evening.” She says it in a rush.

And that’s when my heart stops. Because this gorgeous woman who has been in my fantasies since we met—the image I’ve jerked my cock to, the name on my lips as I’ve come, my obsession—is untouched?

“Just as a favour,” she adds. “Purely practical, like pretending to be my fiancé. You were really good at that, and I wondered if you’d be kind and help me with this too.”

“You’re a virgin?” I croak.

She blushes and closes her eyes. “Mmm.”

“That’s…” So hot that she’d be mine alone. I’d be the first one to breach my lovely girl. “Not possible tonight.” It’s taking all my strength to not say that I would be honoured to help her with this. That I will do it right now, and she’ll come on my cock over and over again.

“Vito…” She puts on an ingratiating voice and opens those pretty pale eyes to entreat me. “Will you?—”

“No.” Absolutely not. If I take her virginity, I’ll never let her go. I don’t think I’d allow her out of my sight. She deserves better. At the very least, she should make the decision when she’s got a clear head.

“Please. Please, pretty-please, fiancé.” She crawls over me and my arms come up without my volition. They settle on her waist. It’s perfectly nipped in, her hips flaring out and my mouth waters as I regard the swell of her tits. My shirt has ridden up, and a scrap of white is visible between her legs. Her knickers. I bite back a groan. She was made for my hands and my cock responds with the inevitability of being near her.

“Cassie…” I can’t help but tighten my grip. She’s so incredibly sweet.

“Mr Blackwood.” Her eyes sparkle like sunshine on a lake.

“Vito.” If I’ll be damned for this night, I will have my name on her lips this once.

“Vito,” she repeats, and it’s everything. I could listen to her on a loop forever. I groan. How am I ever going to return to calling her Miss Meadows and keeping my distance?

“We can’t. You’re drunk.” Who am I trying to convince? No one. It’s a fact. She wouldn’t be doing this if she was thinking straight.

“I’m not. I’m very sober.” She sounds so uninhibited—not drunk but definitely tipsy—that I laugh, and she looks at me as thoughI’msunshine, and that breaks me.

“Amore mio dolce,” I breathe.

“You will?” She makes a little purring noise and pushes closer, wrapping her arms around me and wriggling her hips, trying to get friction on her needy clit.

“No.”

She stills, and her face falls, the spark gone from her and the sexy confidence hissing out like a punctured balloon.

I allow myself the pleasure of combing my fingers into her hair. It’s incredibly soft. I tilt her head up to look at me again. “But I will let you use my fingers to make yourself come.”

That’s an acceptable compromise, isn’t it?

The way she perks up says, yes. Yes, this is the right thing.

“I will if you tell me what to do,” she whispers, as though this is a secret between the two of us, and if she speaks too loudly, she’ll break the spell, or someone else will hear.

“Take off your knickers,” I tell her. “And sit on my lap.”

She wriggles off, giving me a delicious view of the swell of her soft tits as she pushes her white cotton underwear down her thighs. So. Perfect.

“Can I touch you too?” she asks as she toys with the buttons of my shirt that she’s wearing.

“No.” That’s a temptation too far. Her small hand trying to clasp my length? Too much, and I can’t be sure I wouldn’t take more than I ought. But my curt response makes her hesitate, and no. None of that. So I just tell her the truth. “I’m yours to do with as you wish. But let me spoil you first.”