His Nasty Virgin

LOVE TO HEAR YOU BEG

LIV

I push my way through the crowded hotel lobby, feeling as out of place as I usually do in public. If I had my way, I’d never leave my apartment. I’d just stay bundled up in a comfy pair of pajamas with the latest romance in one hand and a cup of tea in the other.

Absolute perfection.

So what if I’m nineteen and live like an old spinster woman from the 1800s? My cat doesn’t seem to mind. I push aside the thought that Chester McPawsy shouldn’t be the only male in my life.

Whatever, I’m happy with my cat and my hymen.

Maybe if I tell myself that a few more hundred times, I’ll start to believe it.

When I get to the counter, I’m met with a gorgeous blonde who gives me a smile that can only be accomplished with a huge paycheck and a lot of dental work.

“How can I help you?” she asks in a clipped voice that doesn’t fit with the New Orleans vibe at all.

“Um, I’m just here to check-in. It should be under Liv Monroe. I’m here for the Dupree wedding.”

Several clicks of her keyboard later, I’m being handed a keycard and told I’ll be on the seventh floor and to contact the front desk if I need anything. I smile and take the card, more than ready to disappear into my room.

The lobby has cleared out by the time I walk to the elevators, and once I’ve stepped inside, a deep voice hollers out, “Hold the elevator, please!”

I press my hand against the doors, forcing them to slide open again before I’ve even fully registered what I’m doing. It’s like his deep, sexy voice just forced a reaction from me. The slight Southern accent has my nipples hardening and my panties growing dangerously wet. When I look up and see the gorgeous, older man walking towards me, I seriously consider just letting the doors slam shut. He’s intimidatingly good-looking, like the kind of man that makes you blush if his eyes happen to run over you for just a second.

He steps in, his broad shoulders and muscular physique making the elevator feel ridiculously small, and flashes me a brilliant smile. He’s wearing jeans and a black T-shirt, but even the casual outfit screams money on him and makes me feel even more embarrassed in my yoga pants and baggy shirt. Comfy traveling clothes, I call them, or I used to. Now I’d just call it frumpwear.This content is © NôvelDrama.Org.

His blue eyes land on mine, and I can’t help but notice the slight grey in his dark hair or the sexy dark stubble on his chiseled jaw. I didn’t realize men this gorgeous existed. I thought they were just in magazines after a good dose of editing.

I slink into the corner, pulling my suitcase closer and attempting to hide behind it. He eyes me and gives me an amused grin before asking, “What floor?”

“Oh, um, seventh, please. Thanks.”

He pushes the seven, and I can’t seem to take my eyes off his large hands. They’re beautiful, and my mind is suddenly filled with images of those hands running all over my body, cupping my tits, trailing down my stomach, sliding into my very wet pussy.

“Are you okay?”

His words throw me out of my fantasy and straight onto my ass. “What?” I ask, wondering if it’s even possible for me to make a bigger fool of myself.

He gives a soft laugh. “You just look a little flushed. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say, giving a forced laugh that sounds fake even to my ears. “Just not looking forward to the wedding, I guess.”

“You’re getting married?”

“No,” I say, and give a genuine laugh this time. “I’m here for my cousin’s wedding. I’m not sure why. We’re not close, and I haven’t seen her in years, but it was a free trip to New Orleans, so I figured why the hell not?”

I leave out the fact that it’s the first time I’ve been separated from Chester McPawsy, and I’m kind of missing him.

“Well, it’s a really fun city, so maybe you’ll have a good time anyway.” He gives me a sweet smile, and I nearly moan when I see the dimple on his left cheek. “You never know. Maybe you’ll fall in love with the city and never want to leave.”

“Oh, you live here?” I’m suddenly desperate to know every detail of this man’s life, but I know we only have seconds left before these doors are going to open up and then I’ll never see him again.

“I do.”

“But why are you staying at a hotel then?”

He laughs at my nosiness, and when the elevator dings, he reaches for the handle of my suitcase and wheels it out like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“I’m here for a work thing. It’s just easier to stay at a hotel for a few nights rather than fight my way through traffic. Plus,” he leans closer to me like he’s telling me a secret and I have to bite my lip to keep from groaning when I smell his spicy cologne, “it’s a lot of fun to act like a tourist in your city.”

We walk down the hall before he stops and looks at me. “What room are you in?”

“723,” I say, wishing I had the guts to ask him to stay and fuck me.

He smiles and leads me down the hall, stopping in front of my room. “Looks like I’m right next door.”

Wheeling my suitcase right next to me, he lets go and offers me his large hand. “I’m Justin, by the way.”

I put my hand in his, watching his swallow mine up, and this time a moan does escape, and I want to die of embarrassment. There’s no hiding it or denying it. We’re the only two out here, and it was most definitely a sexual-sounding moan. It’s the sound a virgin makes when she’s been touched by a man who she instinctively knows could give her the greatest first ride of her life.

Instead of laughing, he squeezes my hand and caresses the back of it with his thumb, sending sparks of pleasure straight to my achy pussy.

“What’s your name?”

“Liv,” I say, but it comes out in a breathy rush that matches perfectly with the embarrassing moan I just gave.

“I’ll remember that. It was very nice meeting you, Liv.”

Before I can respond, he brings the back of my hand to his mouth, kisses it gently, and then turns to the door right next to mine, slips his keycard in, and disappears out of my life. It’s for the best, I tell myself. My own hands shake as I unlock my door and wheel my suitcase in. My hand tingles on the spot he just kissed, and all I can think about is having that mouth on my pussy.

I need to get a grip. Dropping my suitcase, I walk into the bathroom and splash some cold water on my face. Maybe I should just take a cold shower. As I debate it, my hand slips under my panties, and before I’ve even made the conscious decision to do so, I’m fingering myself and moaning at how fucking wet I am. No one’s ever had this powerful of an effect on me. I may be a virgin, but I still have needs. I still fuck myself and get aroused. I just usually have to work a bit to get this turned on, and usually, it’s with a very high-powered device.

Within minutes, Justin had me more turned on than I’ve ever been. I grip the counter with my free hand, already feeling how close I am as I slide another finger in, desperate to feel stuffed. No matter how many fingers I get in, though, it’s never enough. It’s never exactly what I need.

I need a cock, and I’m guessing Justin has a damn fine one. I imagine him spreading my little pussy wide, fucking me in long, hard strokes as I cling to those broad shoulders of his. I’ve just brought my fingers to my aching, swollen clit when I hear a muffled groan. My head jerks to the wall that our rooms share.

No fucking way!

My ears strain to hear more. That can’t be what I thought it was. There’s no way in fuck that Justin is over there jerking himself off. He probably just stubbed his toe. I’m just about convinced that I’m the only perv rubbing one out when I hear it again. A deep groan that’s unmistakably sexual.

The sound of it has me rubbing my clit again with a quickness. Knowing he’s over there touching himself, maybe even thinking about me while he does it, has me so close to the edge that it only takes a few more rubs before I’m cumming hard. I grip the edge of the sink harder, trying to keep quiet, but it’s a losing battle. My moans seem to echo off the damn walls, and when I hear another deep groan coming from Justin’s room, I smile as another orgasm washes over me.