Emma bit her lip, a sudden attack of shyness nearly paralyzing her. Max didn’t know it yet, but he’d be her first, and from the look on his face she’d better tell him soon.
“Max?” Emma sat there, her hands clenched in her lap, her gaze riveted to his cock. The thing looked huge, all veined and red, and pointed straight at her. A small drop of liquid seeped from the slit. It twitched a salute to her rapt attention.
“Yes, Emma?”
Her gaze lifted to his; unknown to her, they’d turned pure, molten gold. “You remember the talk of other men?”
He growled low in his throat and crawled onto the bed.
“Eep,” she whispered, lying down as he prowled up her body.
“You were saying?” he whispered huskily as he settled his naked body between her thighs. He brushed against her cheek with his lips, a caress so soft she barely felt it. It sent a shiver down her spine.
Those same lips continued their incredible journey, trailing down the side of her neck to settle on the bite he’d given her outside the restaurant. Goose bumps raced up and down her arms as he moved his hips in a sinuous motion, brushing his naked cock against her mound.
“Um, there weren’t,” she squeaked, unconsciously arching up into his body as he scrapped his teeth along his mark.
“Weren’t what?” he muttered, one hand moving up to start sliding her camisole up her stomach. He paused long enough to caress her there, trailing fire in his wake.
“Any other men.”
His hand stopped.
His mouth stopped.
His hips stopped. She was really sad when his hips stopped.
“You’re a virgin?” His voice sounded oddly strangled.
“It’s not a crime to be one, you know. I’m not the Oldest Living Virgin, or anything. It’s not like I’m in the Guinness Book of World Records,” she babbled. “Besides, I’ve done other things…oh!” His hands had started moving again, with a swiftness that startled her. Her camisole was toast as he ripped it literally from her body, his claws barely scrapping her skin, sending shivers of need once again down her spine.
Claws?
Emma had barely registered the fact that Max had used his claws to ruin her favorite shirt when he started working on her jeans. “No! Bad kitty!” She slapped him on the top of his head, determined to save at least some of her wardrobe.
He lifted his head, his eyes golden and burning, a rumbling sound emanating from his throat as he pinned her hands above her head. Emma thought about struggling, but something about the way he looked had her lying passively. “You’re a virgin.”
Emma blinked, unsure how to respond. “Duh.”
Max stared down at her, his eyes narrowing as he studied her features as if seeing her for the very first time. “No man has ever touched you.”
She thought about telling him about the make-out sessions her one and only boyfriend had talked her into, the oral sex they’d indulged in a few times, but decided that discretion was the better part of valor.
Jimmy was a nice guy, and deserved to live. “Again. Duh.”
“No man will ever touch you again.”
Emma studied granite-like features above her. “Even you?” The growl deepened. She sighed, inexplicably happy to hear that sound. “Okay.” She rolled her eyes. “Duh.” She grinned. “By the way, Lion-O, that was my favorite shirt.”
He looked down. “Damn, Emma.”
“What?” She looked down, expecting to see something odd, like very dried alfredo sauce decorating one boob or something. Instead she saw the pale pink lace bra she’d put on that morning, the one that was completely see-through. It helped give her confidence to feel the sexy lingerie against her skin, so much so she’d replaced all of her old undies with the lacy stuff.
From the look, and feel, of things, Max definitely approved.
Max switched her wrists into one hand. The other trailed down her body to her jeans, undoing the snap and zipper with ease. “Lift your ass, Emma,” he commanded. She obeyed without thinking, shifting so he could ease her jeans down her legs.
He hissed out a breath at the sight of the pale pink lace panties that matched the bra. Underneath, she was hairless. “A full Brazilian,” he sighed.
“Uh-huh.”
He moved his hand and began petting her over her panties, cupping her intimately. “Mine,” he sighed.
His golden eyes bored into hers, a silent command in them. “Keep your hands where they are.”
“Why?” Emma complied as Max moved his hand slowly from her wrists, trailing down her arm to the side of her breast.
“Because I’m not ready for you to touch me yet. I want this first time to be yours.”
“I’d rather it was ours.” She gasped as his hand gently embraced her breast. His thumb strummed gently over her nipple, causing it to peak under the pink bra.
“Trust me, Curana. The pleasure will be ours.” Slowly, oh so slowly, Max lowered his head. His tongue snaked out and licked over her nipple through the lace, watching her reactions as she gasped softly.