“Can I ask you a question?”
Her head tipped back on the couch and turned to look at me with one brow arched. “You can. I may not answer though,” she repeated my same words back to me.
“How are you nineteen and still a virgin?”
“It’s not like I’m forty,” she scoffed.
“I know, but it’s uncommon in this day and age.”
“I don’t know. There wasn’t anyone really great around where I was. No one that I felt safe enough with to even consider feeling attraction.” She shrugged before shifting to face me. “Plus my sister didn’t make it seem all that appealing.”
“You ever have a boyfriend?”
“Kissed?” The question slipped out, lower and more intimate than I’d planned.
A slow smile curled her lips. “Well, yeah. I kissed you.”
“Was I your only kiss?” I asked, shocked.
Her eyes dropped a bit before looking back up, a blush staining her cheeks. “Among other first experiences.”
Her soft moans as her hips moved faster over my lap flashed in my mind, instantly bringing my dick to life.
“Actually,” she began, “I don’t think you get credit for my first orgasm. I kind of did that myself against you and I could have accomplished the same thing against a pillow. So maybe you’re not that great.”
No inner voice giving me warnings about giving her space and to keep this neutral could stop my male pride from rearing its head. I narrowed my eyes and shifted to face her, leaning an arm on the back of the couch to crowd her. “Not that great?” I growled.
The smile she’d been trying to hold back broke free even as the slight blush became a rosy red that spread down her neck. “Nah. I’m still waiting for someone to give me my first real orgasm.”
A roaring sound filled my ears, like a wave washing away all common sense. In its place was me beating my chest demanding she acknowledge that she came against my crotch because I made her. I leaned in closer. “I gave you your first orgasm.”
She shrugged casually, but I saw the pulse thudding against her neck. I watched the way her tongue slicked out to coat her lips. “Sorry to crush your spirits, but I did all the work. You just sat there. Kind of like a pillow would.”
“Was,” I growled, reaching the end of my patience.
She giggled. “Were—”
My lips crashed down on hers, stopping the childish argument. A small part of me knew how fucking stupid this all was. I’d pushed her away, made decisions, gone on dates I didn’t want to, all to make sure she stayed away. And here we were, kissing because I had to make a point that I was some caveman.
I was an idiot.
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