From This Day Foward: Switched at Marriage Part 4 (6 page)

"At least it's original."

I expected him to look wounded, like I'd just stabbed his male ego with the end of a very sharp nail. But he was grinning, roguishly, beneath that sexy-smelling beard that everyone but me seemed to like.

"Look." He took my hands in his. "Kayla Lucas Green, I would bear the hardship gladly. I
want
to sleep with you. In the worst possible way. I'd have to be a eunuch not to."

"You would?"

He nodded. "Why do you think I go to bed so late and get up so early?" He took a deep breath. "Because I sleep with a hard-on that lasts so long I think I may need medical treatment to get rid of it."

I couldn't help myself: I laughed at the way he poked fun at himself. "Oh, don't, please. Not on my account. As they say, a hard man is good to find."

His eyes lit up. He rubbed my thumb with his in a seductive, intimate way. "I kick myself every day for agreeing to the no-sex requirement."

"Really?"

He nodded so solemnly, I laughed again.

"After the first night together, I was hoping I could seduce you. But then I remembered I'm no heartthrob or player. And then I tell myself, there's nothing in writing. What we have is a verbal agreement. A gentleman's agreement. And my thoughts are not a gentleman's at all."

I looked at him, shocked. And flattered. And confused.
So that's why he doesn't sleep with me. I never thought…

"So you're saying it would be my word against yours, as far as the verbal contract goes," I said, leading him on and teasing him. "That what we have is a he-said-she-said thing. And that most courts, of course, are going to rule that some sex is expected in a 'marriage.'" I put a flippant tone in my voice, flirting with him despite my serious words.

"Consensual sex, I think, is the key in any marriage. Rape is still rape. I'd never force myself on you. I wouldn't know how."

I smiled again at his pathetic come-on. But I believed him that he wouldn't force me.

He sighed like all the weight of the world sat on his chest. "I'm a twenty-one-year-old, frustrated virgin who's having a hell of a time keeping his hands to himself, Kay. I was hoping you'd take pity on me. You could fulfill an adolescent fantasy of mine."

"What fantasy?" I said, cautiously.

"The one where a beautiful, blond, older woman shows me the ways of love and seduction." His eyes sparkled.

He was so incredibly adorable. And he smelled seductively of that beard oil that I was sure was laced with pheromones or something. And the alcohol and the illusion and pleasure of the party were affecting my senses. I tingled at the thought. Actually tightened deep inside. It had been so long since I'd had sex. And even longer since it had been good.

"Does my inexperience scare you?" he asked when I didn't respond. "Because it scares the hell out of me. I'm in this sexually frustrated position now. Of my own making. Obviously, I can take matters into my own hand. But that's not what I want. I'm a married man. Who's always in the public eye. With a public fantasy romance to maintain. I could cheat. As long as I'm discreet. But if I'm caught—"

At the mention of cheating, I felt the rage of unreasonable jealousy flair. I pictured him with Ophie, poised over her. Maybe she was a virgin, too. I wouldn't be surprised. I imagined the two of them finding their way together. Walking in on them and the superior smile she would give me.
He's mine now. I'm the one who took his virginity. You tossed him away.
That's what the look in her eyes would say to me.

"I have plenty of money to pay someone," he said. "But a prostitute or call girl? That's courting trouble. They have a tendency to rat out their clients. And they're not my thing."

He sighed again, comically. "I didn't think this marriage through thoroughly, as I think we mentioned before."

I put a finger to his lips. "Shhhhh. If you're going to seduce a woman, you have to know when to stop talking."

He went perfectly still. His eyes were round and dark. His breathing shallow and excited. When was the last time any guy had looked at me with such lust and awe? He didn't know how erotic it was.

"I've never had a virgin before." I pursed my lips, making an exaggerated point of thinking his suggestion over. "Or a billionaire. Or a bearded lover."

"Well, there you have it. Three in one. A perfect trifecta." His voice was husky. "You might not get that combination again in one package."

I nodded, trying to look serious. "Yes, exactly. It's particularly rare in men of my age. Both the billionaire thing and the virgin. Not so much the beard. Which, by the way, and I don't know why I'm telling you this, my friends all think is hot. So I would score some points there, too. Though I get those whether I actually do you or not."

I tapped my fingers together. "Tempting. Very tempting. Though I'm not sure I'm really the deflowering kind, something about the idea
is
exciting." I slid into his lap and straddled him, one knee on either side of him as I took his face in my hands.

His eyes grew darker by the minute. "In some cultures, people pay good money to take a person's virginity. I'm offering mine up."

I tipped his face toward mine. "I've never heard of anyone paying for a guy's virginity before."

"And here I thought about auctioning mine off. Bad business plan?"

"Shut up." I leaned down and pressed my lips to his.

He grabbed my hips and settled me against the bulge in his pants. He was right. He had a boner that wouldn't quit. For one quick sec, I flashed back to college and the way eager frat guys would press up against us sorority girls at their parties. Maybe it was Justin's youthful eagerness or his lack of experience that made the comparison in my mind.

The skirt of my dress billowed around us. My panties rubbed against his pants. I went wet. My body, obviously, had also been seduced by the party. The phrase
Fake it till you make it
took on a whole new meaning.

I broke away from Justin's sweet, desperate kiss, slid off his lap, stood, and took him by the hand. "Come with me and let me make a man out of you." I pulled him to the bedroom.

My apartment was small. No more than eight hundred square feet—entryway that was really just a pad, tiny kitchen, living room, bathroom, one bedroom. My bed was made, covered in a white, fluffy, lacy comforter set I'd gotten for a steal off Flashionista. My sheets were, fortunately, clean. Which, for some weird matter of pride, was important to me. New man and all.

Jus hesitated in the doorway. "Why do I feel like I should carry you over the threshold?"

I smiled at him. "Then do it."

He caught me beneath the knees and swept me into his arms. I threw my arms around his neck, kicked one leg high like our latest cake topper, and smiled at him.

"If this had been our real wedding night, I would have had flowers waiting." His voice was husky and surprisingly genuine.

I resisted asking if he'd done that on his real wedding night to the imposter. He didn't remember anyway, so the point was moot.

"Red rose petals covering the bed."

"Rose petals are messy and overrated." I stroked his bearded cheek.

"Champagne chilling."

"We've had enough of that already." Which was why we were on our way to the bed. I pushed the thought and good sense aside. My body—and surprisingly, even a little bit of my heart—wanted this. How many times did you get a chance to initiate a good friend into the world of sex and passion?

He swallowed hard and carried me into the room, closing the door with his foot surprisingly suavely.

"You're cute," I said. "There's no need to close the door. It's just us here."

"Just trying to provide another sound barrier between us and the neighbors."

"I see," I whispered. "So you're expecting noisy sex? Will you be disappointed if I'm not a screamer?"

"As long as you do this with me, I won't be disappointed by anything you do or don't do."

"Big words. Big talk." I ran my fingers through his hair and unbuttoned his shirt as he carried me into the room. "That door butts up against the hall."

"Every little bit of sound barrier helps."

"Shy?"

"Maybe." He swallowed hard.

I tried to remember how I felt my first time. Scared. Determined. Eager. The sex didn't live up to the promise of all the hype. It was better for guys. I hoped it was, at least. I wanted this first time for him to be something special.

"The walls of this building are concrete and very soundproof." I kissed his neck.

"Good." He took two strides to my full-size bed and stopped.

I watched his face as he assessed the situation—just how did he suavely open the bed and get rid of all those decorative pillows I had piled on top? Yes, I was something of a pillow freak. What was his engineer's mind thinking?

Eric would have set me down. We would have each grabbed an armful of pillows and tossed them into the corner. Then one of us would have thrown the covers back. We'd become a bit settled and clinical that way. But then we would have gone after each other like animals.

Jus set me on my back on the bed, tenderly. Falling onto me. Bracing over me. Staring at me as if I was the most gorgeous girl in the world and he was the luckiest guy. With one smooth motion, he swept the pillows off the bed. He slid his arm beneath me, around my waist, and kissed me with surprising expertise. His lips were warm. His tongue probed with just the right amount of insistence. And he tasted good.

At the same time, he slid his free hand up my thigh beneath my skirt, stroking his way up my bare leg. His hands were hot and strong. And even though he was the virgin, it felt like he was the one teasing me as he hooked a finger in my thong panties and slid them down.

I could have teased him and made him work to take them off. But he was a novice, after all. And I was surprisingly hot for him. I bent my leg and let him slide the panties off, then kicked them away to join the pillows on the floor.

"Very smooth," I whispered as I removed his shirt and circled his nipple with the tips of my fingernails until he shuddered.

His hand was still on my thigh. He slid it up to cup my butt and then his fingers slid between my legs, massaging and stroking me with gentle attention until I bloomed for him. His face was a study of concentration, like all he wanted to do was please me. But he was holding back and determined not to break while I took my time.

I moaned softly.

He mumbled something.

"Don't worry," I whispered back. "I'm waiting for you. But we still have way too many clothes on." I reached for his zipper.

"To hell with this." He stood and slid off his pants, briefs, and socks. He almost toppled over once, as he tried to remove his last sock, bouncing on one foot. He was completely adorable in his embarrassment. "Not so suave."

He didn't know that sex wasn't scripted and choreographed like in the movies. Accidents happened. Clothes didn't just fly off miraculously. And afterward, sex was messy.

"Oh, I don't know. The view's pretty good from here."

Silhouetted in the streetlight that filtered in through my bedroom curtains, he was hard and erect. Amply endowed.

I sat up and presented my back to him. "Unzip me."

His fingers fumbled. The zipper stuck at the point where the bodice met the skirt of the dress. He struggled with it. I could feel his embarrassment and impatience.

"Don't worry. Zippers always stick at the top of the skirt where the fabric's thickest," I whispered. "Just give it a good tug."

A second later, he succeeded and the dress fell away. I slid out of it and rolled over on my back, bracing on my elbows.

My eyes had adjusted to the dark. I could see the look of amazement and awe on his face.

His gaze drifted to my breasts. His face twisted in consternation. "Damn. What are those?"

I laughed. "Don't like my chicken cutlets?"

"What?"

"My press-on bra. We called them chicken cutlets in college."

He frowned like he was figuring out a puzzle. "As a virgin, I thought I was doing pretty well. Until now."

"Oh, you were." I grinned at him to reassure him and crooked my finger at him.

"Women like to have their nipples sucked. And guys like to suck them, so I hear." He slid onto the bed next to me and gingerly pointed to the cutlets. "Those have to go."

"Yes?" I raised an eyebrow. "So what are you waiting for?"

"I'm not exactly sure how to remove them. Is there glue or tape involved? What are they held on with?

"Suction." I took my breast in my hand and fondled it.

Justin's mouth fell open. His gaze was riveted on my breast and the hand I caressed it with.

When his breathing grew excited enough, I slid my finger beneath the silicone to break the seal, and pulled the cutlet off. My nipple popped out erect and ready for action. Justin's breath caught.

Here was where things always got sticky in the undressing action. Literally. This was my favorite, and newest, pair of expensive cutlets. Cutlets are, well, sticky, and pick up lint. Which ruins them. I didn't have their case handy. So I reached up and stuck the cutlet on the decorative mirror over my nightstand.

"See how easy that is?" I took his hand and put in on my breast. "Now you try."

If I thought I was the one teasing him, I was sadly mistaken. When his finger slid between the cutlet and my skin, my nipple went so tight and hot I almost climaxed. He stuck that cutlet to the mirror next to its mate and caressed my breast with reverence and awe. When he took it in his mouth, I almost melted right there. He sucked and circled my nipple with his tongue until I moaned softly. Which should have been his cue to slip inside me. But either his virginity was making him miss the signal, or he was having too much fun and was really,
really
a breast man.

"Jus," I finally had to whisper. "If you keep sucking like that, I'm going to climax without you."

He grinned the grin of the enormously pleased. And fortunately, he was still enormous, long, and hard.

I pulled him on top of me. An experienced guy would have dived right in. Jus hovered over me with that sweet, hesitant innocence.