His breathing changed, becoming more ragged. “I should probably work this one out on my own.”

She caught his face between his hands. “Let me do it. I want to, more than anything. Please?” Surely it went without saying she didn’t know what she was doing, but how hard could it be? Sam had always assured her a stiff breeze would probably make a guy ejaculate if he was worked up enough. Candace had a feeling he was there now.

Chapter Seven

He should have left her at the first touch of her lips, but Brian couldn’t regret having the taste of her innocence on his tongue. There was no way in hell he could ever wish he hadn’t been the one to make her come like that.

This damn girl was going to kill him. How in the hell did he think he could spend all that time going down on her and not be dying to f**k her?

When she reached down and rubbed his c**k through his jeans again, he knew he was lost.

Dumbass, he chided himself even as he surrendered, turning over on his back as she went to work on his fly. Feeling her mouth slicking over him was going to make him want to do nothing but lift her up over his hips and impale her. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and if he said or thought the word “sweet” again he was going to lose it. But that’s what she was. Too sweet. She’d been a sugar cube on his tongue. He wasn’t accustomed to being with girls like her.

A virgin. He still couldn’t wrap his mind around it. He hadn’t had to worry about shit like that since he was eighteen. She’d been so tight around his fingers he couldn’t even fathom attempting to push his way inside her. Couldn’t fathom it, couldn’t think of anything else.

But he knew one thing for damn frigging sure. The thought of some other guy trying it on her was enough to throw him into a blind, murderous rage.

She’d saved it for all these years, and now she wanted to give it away? To him?

Funny thing was, he probably wouldn’t have valued that quality as much in anyone else, if at all. But because it was her, he felt like a kid staring at a bright, shiny-wrapped present on Christmas morning. Dying to unwrap it, reluctant to destroy the beauty and purity of it.

And wasn’t he just the f**king sap.

She seemed to be having trouble with the button on his jeans, so he reached down and popped it open for her, eager to feel her hands on him. And thank God he was about to. Another thing he hadn’t feared since he was a teenager was blowing in his jeans. Watching, hearing and tasting her come in his mouth earlier had nearly done it to him. He was primed and ready for lift-off.

A little groan of pure feminine appreciation escaped her when she finally freed him from the hellish confines of his boxer briefs, and he loved her for it. He couldn’t look anywhere else but at her mouth as she licked her lips, curling her hand around his shaft and stroking him. Her touch was so light and unsure—as if she was afraid of hurting him—that he leaned his head back on the pillow and groaned with more agony than pleasure.

Christ, the only thing hurting him was that this particular shiny-wrapped present didn’t have his name on it. At least, it shouldn’t. It should have some guy’s name who was way better than him. Better for her, for her future, for her overall mental health. But whoever that other guy was, Brian wanted to maim the bastard.

Especially when her wet tongue suddenly stroked up the length of his cock. “Jesus Christ,” he bellowed toward the ceiling. She laughed. And did it again. And again. Then pulled away and gave an embarrassed giggle.

“Um, I’m not quite sure how to maneuver around this thing.”

“Huh? It’s pretty damned self-explan—oh.” Looking down at her, he realized she meant his apa, which she was staring at apprehensively. Something he always made sure to explain to clients was that particular piercing wasn’t too conducive to oral if the girl had a small mouth, which Candace did. “Sorry. Do you want me to take it out?”

“You can?”

Ordinarily he didn’t like to, but when his only options narrowed down to having a pierced dick or having Candace’s mouth wrapped around it, there was no contest. “Some guys have problems with it, but I never have.”

She sat back on her knees and watched as he unscrewed the barbell, and he found himself looking at her more than at what he was doing. Long blond hair streaming toward her br**sts. Graceful fingers resting on her thighs. Flat belly. The sexy little tat he’d given her. He was so glad she’d come to him for that. The thought of some other guy marking her flesh made him just about as crazy as imagining some other guy f**king her.

That was a new one. He was really losing it.

“So the mystery is at last solved,” she said out of the blue.

He gritted his teeth as he finished his task, the tugging almost too much for his overly sensitive erection. He shoved the barbell in the pocket of his jeans. “What mystery?”

“That totally wasn’t you in any of those pictures.”

He burst out laughing. She was too much. “Sweetie, have you been giving it that much thought?”

“Well…yes!”

“I’m not one to put my c**k on display. You see it only if I want you to.” He loved how she gave an affronted huff every time he said something crass. It was the cutest damn thing.

“I’m honored,” she countered, and he was about to flip something back, but she leaned over and pressed the flat of her tongue to the underside of his glans, and the words died in his throat only to be replaced by two little ones.

“Oh, God.”

Even in the darkness, he saw her gaze flicker up to his, and there was no debating: it was the sexiest f**king sight he had ever seen in his entire life. And he’d seen some crazy shit.

“You’ll have to tell me if I’m doing this right,” she whispered between delectable licks.

“Whatever you do, honey, I imagine it’ll be right.”

With that reassurance, her lips slipped over the crown and down his shaft. Damp heat engulfed him. Life ceased to exist, his surroundings receded…there was nothing left but the sensation of her mouth closing over him, swallowing him down until his tip nudged the back of her throat. His fingers wrapped in her hair, but he was careful not to force her to take more than she wanted. It was as frustrating as it was pleasurable; he couldn’t get deep enough inside her this way. Goddamn, how he wanted to f**k her. Long and deep and slow. He wanted to be the one to show her so much more.

He took her hand and wrapped it around his base, holding it to show her how to stroke where her mouth couldn’t reach. How tight he wanted her grip. The rhythm he liked. And oh, Jesus, once she caught on, he could do nothing but collapse in ever increasing ecstasy, unable to imagine how anything could ever feel better than this. She was a quick study. Her tight mouth would fuel his fantasies for the rest of his life. Probably beyond.

The pressure tightening his balls was reaching a critical peak. He willed it back, to prolong this a little longer. As much as he needed relief, he didn’t want it to end. But she caught him in a suction that made lightning race along his spine, ripping his senses loose, until all pathetic attempts to stave off the inevitable were utterly annihilated.

“Back up, sugar. I’m gonna come. Oh, f**k.” Something about letting go in her mouth didn’t sit right with him, not this first time. She did as he said, keeping up the same motion with her hand until he erupted. And when he did, holy shit, the angels sang. The force behind the surge was enough to wrench him upward, and he grabbed her fingers to still their motion when it all became too much. She made a throaty sound as if watching him come all over their hands got her hot again—and God help him if it did—while he bit out curses until the violent throbs subsided and the last of his se**n seeped out.