Only the message didn’t seem to be getting from his brain to his dick. Maybe it was a lack of blood flow. Maybe it was how she was touching him all over and offering herself to him. Every kiss seemed to draw him in deeper, and he was a big fan of being drawn in.
The sound of her moans nearly did him in. He felt the weight of her curves, the tightness of her nipples. Self-control snapped. He tugged up her T-shirt and tossed it onto the table behind her. Her bra followed, and he could see the swell of her breasts and the tight, taunting nipples begging to be loved.
He lowered his head and kissed her gently, so gently. She whimpered. He drew the tiny bud into his mouth, and her knees gave out.
He caught her as she fell.
“Again,” she breathed, hanging on to him. “Oh, please, do that again.”
He sucked in deeply, pulling and flicking his tongue. She groaned. Her fingers clutched his head as if she wanted to be sure he never let go. He shifted to her other breast and did the same. Her breathing increased, and she squirmed against him, then her head dropped back as she moaned.
She was desire incarnate, he thought hazily. All need and hunger. How had anyone made love with her without pleasing her first? If she was this excited when he was touching her breasts, how difficult would it be to bring her to orgasm?
Men were idiots, he thought cheerfully, toeing off his shoes and removing his own shirt. And that was just plain lucky for him.
He pushed the table aside and settled her on the bench of the booth. She pulled off her boots, then helped him remove her jeans and panties. The second she was naked, she brought his hands back to her breasts, which made it tough for him to take off the rest of his clothes. But he substituted his mouth for his fingers and managed to undress.
She stroked his chest and smiled up at him. Her eyes seemed a little glazed, and for a second, he wondered how drunk she really was. Then she whispered, “Kiss me,” and he was lost.
Their tongues tangled. The bench was long enough for him to stretch out on top of her. Not doing it, he told himself. Not yet. He just wanted to see how they fit together.
She welcomed the weight of him, shifting and then wrapping her arms around him.
“I knew it would be like this,” she murmured against his lips. “DNA always wins out.”
“DNA?”
“It doesn’t matter.” She smiled. “That breast thing really works.”
“You liked it?”
“Very much. Who knew?”
“What about the rest of it? What else do you like? How would you like me to please you, Destiny? My mouth, my hands, like this?”
As he spoke, he pushed in gently. Just a little. The tip.She was hot and wet and tight. Her eyes widened, and her mouth parted. He read the signs as pleasure and pushed in more. A little deeper, a little farther.
Which turned out to be a mistake because he hadn’t been with a woman in months and months. That fact became very clear when he felt the familiar pressure building at the base of his cock. Panic flared as his brain searched for a solution to a very imminent problem.
It had been all of two seconds. Seriously? What the hell was he supposed to do now? Pull out and come all over her leg like some teenager? Or simply push in all the way and come like some teenager? Either way he was going to be humiliated.
He swore. “I swear, it’s not usually like this,” he told her. “I’ll take care of you in a second, okay? It’s just—”
His hips gave an involuntary flex. He pushed in.
Three things happened at once. Destiny put her hands on his shoulders and said, “Kipling, I’m—”
He felt something between him and the deep, wet place he most wanted to go. Instinctively, he pushed harder, and the barrier gave way. And he climaxed.
He pulled out as fast as he could, but it was too late. Foreboding grew as he looked down and saw blood on his penis. Pieces of a very surrealistic puzzle fell into place. He shook off the obvious solution and searched for another explanation.
There was no way. It wasn’t possible. She was in her late twenties. She was beautiful. She was—
“You’re a virgin?”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“WAS,” DESTINY SAID automatically, telling herself that in some strange, twisted way, the circumstances were completely fitting. Why wouldn’t she lose her virginity in a bar? She was her parents’ daughter, after all. Destiny couldn’t escape her destiny.
She giggled at the ridiculousness of it and thought maybe she was a little drunker than she’d realized.
Kipling scrambled to his feet and stared at her. “You’re a virgin?” he repeated. “No. You can’t be. ”
She sat up and tried to figure out how she felt. A little sore and, to be honest, disappointed. After all this time, all her plans and hopes to not be like her parents, she’d done it. She’d had sex with a guy in a bar. And while the kissing had been fun, and she’d really liked how she’d felt when he touched her breasts, in the end it hadn’t been all that interesting.
Sex, like many forbidden things in life, was all hype. Her parents had broken up marriages, abandoned their children and tried very hard to destroy themselves over that? Three seconds of pressure with a bit of pain thrown in? She’d rather go eat a brownie.
What about the earth moving and all that crap people sang about? The intense, life-changing moment? Talk about anticlimactic.
“Destiny.”
Kipling’s voice was sharp. Maybe a little panicked.
“I’m fine.”