The Virgin Sex Queen Read online

  “It’s fine.” She wrestled a bag back. “I’m not a fragile flower.”

  “Doesn’t matter, I’m a man, you’re a woman, I do the heavy stuff.” He made a grab for the bag.

  She swung it out of his reach. “Why, Sam, how delightfully old-fashioned of you!”

  “I’ll lock you in your room if you don’t give it to me.”

  “You’ll struggle to get me there, let me give you the tip.”

  “Trust me, I’ll get you there.” He made another grab for the bag.

  Sophie darted out of reach.

  Laughing, he gave up, reaching out to ruffle her hair affectionately when she moved back up beside him. Rounding the corner of the house together, they deposited the garbage bags in the bin, but before they made their back around Sam took hold of Sophie’s arm. “Soph, about you and Alan…”

  Hearing the concern in his tone, she said quietly, “It’s okay, Sam.”

  “I like Alan, he’s a good bloke.” Sam hesitated.

  “But?”

  “No wonder he was acting so oddly around you at times. I had no idea you and Alan had been seeing each other.”

  Big surprise, neither had Sophie. “It was just now and again.” Game face, but tone it down.

  “Enough that you both, well…” Sam shifted uncomfortably, cleared his throat. “Seems like your writing isn’t all fantasy.”

  Cheeks flushing, Sophie looked away. Her cousin had no idea.

  “Not that I want to know anything,” Sam assured her hurriedly. “I just…I don’t want you hurt, okay?”

  Surprised and touched, she reached out and took his hand, his big, calloused, comforting hand. “Oh Sam, that’s so sweet.’

  “You just be careful.” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I know you’re experienced and all, I just…You be careful with the men, okay?”

  “You’re afraid I’ll break them?”

  “Good God, no! Soph!” He was horrified. “I mean there are a lot of cranks out there, I just want you to promise me you’ll be careful.”

  Great, now she was promiscuous. Her own fault for playing the part so well. And true to Sam’s nature, he wasn’t judging her, just concerned for her safety.

  Leaning close, she came up on tiptoe and when he leaned down, she kissed his cheek. “Thanks, Sam. I’m always careful, don’t you worry.”

  He gave her a sudden hug. “I’m always here if you need help, okay?”

  “You’re saying you’ll sort out my lovers if they go wild?”

  “I’ll punch any man who hurts you.”

  “I’d need more than a garbage bag to pick up the pieces.”

  “Hell yes.” He gave her a squeeze before releasing her suddenly. “Last one to the table to get the leftover Pav is a loser!”

  She was no match for his long legs and she was laughing and calling insults as she rounded the corner of the house in a chase she was going to lose.

  And crashed right into Alan, whom she took down to the grass in a tangle of limbs. Landing on top of him, she was sure she’d crushed his breath from his body and horrified, she propped herself up on her hands to stare down at him. “Alan! Are you all right? Talk to me!”

  Opening his eyes, he grinned slowly. “Soph, I didn’t realise you were so pleased to see me.”

  “Did I hurt you?”

  “No, why?” His expression was genuinely puzzled.

  “I’m heavier than you and-”

  Amusement left his face and his hands were suddenly at her waist. His eyes were dark, the reflection of the moon seeming to make them almost shine. “You’re not heavy.”

  Blushing at a blatant untruth, she tried to push up from him. “Nice of you to say so but-”

  “You feel just right.” His hands on her waist relaxed, fingers spreading out, his voice dropping lower. “Perfect.”

  “Alan…” Sighing, she tried to ignore the warmth both his hands and his voice was eliciting. “Everyone’s gone, pretend time is over.”

  “Who says I’m pretending?” His hands shifted lower, fingers spreading over her hips.

  “That’s enough!” Painfully aware of her position, her heart hurting more than it had any right to, Sophie planted her hands on the grass each side of his chest and tried to push upright.

  His hands tightened on her hips so that she only succeeded in lifting her breasts from his chest. Just. Geez, she’d never realised how big her breasts were. But his hold had their hips in intimate contact, the only thing separating their unmentionables their clothes. Even their legs were tangled.

  “Enough of what?” He asked huskily.

  “Pretending.”

  “Told you, I’m not pretending.”

  Giving up on struggling, Sophie sighed again and looked down at him. Sprawled beneath her, Alan certainly didn’t look uncomfortable with her weight atop him. Cripes, he’d had plenty of slim girls falling all over him, doing God knows what, but she bet he’d never had a hefty sheila like herself on top of him.

  “Fine, if you want to be squashed, go for it.” How humiliating. She bit her lip and against her better judgement glanced away. Stupid stupid stupid.

  There was silence for several seconds before a dangerously quiet voice, devoid of all previous huskiness, spoke. “You better not have said what I just thought I heard.”

  “You heard right,” she retorted. “Now let me go.”

  There was a slap to her backside, quick, and while not really hard it caught her by surprise. Almost immediately in a move that caught her off-guard, she was flipped over onto her back, Alan looming above her, the breadth of his shoulders blocking the moon from sight. Staring up at him, mouth agape, Sophie could only wonder at the heat in his eyes…and quake at the anger, too.

  “D - did you just…smack me?” She stammered.

  “Hell yes, and if I hear anymore of you rubbishing yourself, you’ll get a hell of a lot more than just one smack. It’ll make those spanking scenes of yours look like child’s play.” He was furious, his eyes almost black in the darkness. “None of that shit, Sophie, ever. I mean it.”

  Cripes. Whoa. Wow. She gulped. This was a side of Alan she’d never before seen. Teasing, laughing, seductive, but furious enough to threaten her with a - she gave a small shiver - spanking? Nu-uh.

  Whoa, what a scene for her next book about a cop. Whoo.

  Except here was the kicker - it was happening to her, right now, in reality. But he was just pretending, right? Disappointed, she dropped her head to the grass and sighed. “It’s over, Alan.”

  “What is?” There was still a bite in his tone.

  “Everyone’s gone home.” She angled her head to peep at the well-lit backyard. “Sam’s gone.” The back light went off, plunging the yard into darkness. “Oh. He obviously thinks we’ve gone inside as well.”

  “Sam knows we’re out here. He’s giving us privacy.”

  She looked at him. “No need.”

  “Every need.”

  “Alan, the game is over for the night. Everyone’s gone home, my reputation as Sex Queen, as you like to call me, is safe. Thanks for helping, I appreciate it, and I’m not going to rip your head off now because, well…because…” Because she suddenly felt like crying instead.

  Shit, when had she become so stupid?

  “Because?’ Alan asked curiously.

  “Can you just let me up?”

  “No.”

  Self conscious again, she shoved at his chest. “I’m not used to this position.”

  He didn’t budge an inch. “On your back? I know that now.”

  Great. Just bloody great. She took refuge in anger. That was a better alternative than blubbering like a baby. God, when had she become such a sook? “Fine. You want to have this discussion now? I’m warning you, it may culminate in having your head ripped off after all and you won’t like where I shove it.”

  “Ooohh, Soph, violence. I’m a cop, it’s my duty to restrain violent offenders. Wait here and I’ll get my handcuffs.” Laug
hter glimmered in his voice.

  “You're really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

  “You have no idea.”

  “Oh, I do. Enjoy the laugh up, you jerk, because when I get up you’re dead.”

  “Fighting words.” Shifting, he leaned down and propped his forearms on the grass each side of her shoulders. “So let’s have this out, Soph. You’re irritated that I backed you up. You’re irritated that I don’t like you rubbishing yourself. You’re irritated because you’re not getting your own way right now. How’m I doing so far?”

  Right now she could barely think, not with Alan’s chest comfortably snugged against her breasts, his position putting their faces close. Luckily he had long arms or they’d be tongue-tied. Literally.

  His eyes held a hint of laughter, but something else, too. His hips were resting against hers, his long legs resting between her thighs, which meant that their bodies were pressed together from chest to groin. Yeah, that other thing in his eyes was heat.

  Even if she had her notepad with her right now, she wouldn’t be able to get her shaking fingers to hold a pen.

  “Soph?”

  “You’re wrong about the second part,” she managed to croak out. “I don’t care what you think of my opinion of myself.”

  “You’ll be wanting to change that,” he drawled, that same hint of danger of a few minutes ago trickling through his mild tone. “Trust me.”

  That just made her tingle in all the wrong places. Forcing herself to concentrate - game face! - she met his gaze as coolly as she could.

  “Oh, don’t even try that.” Amused, Alan lifted his other hand to push a lock of hair back behind her ears.

  The gesture was unexpected, making her breath catch as a flicker of what could only be called tenderness showed briefly in his eyes.

  “I’m onto the game face now, remember?” Pulling the lock of hair back over her shoulder, he twirled his finger into it while shifting his gaze back to look down at her. “So, Virgin Sex Queen, care to tell me about it?”

  If he kept touching her, she’d melt into a puddle. Controlling her expression wasn’t easy and regardless of his words, she kept her game face. It was the only way she could answer without embarrassing herself. “No.”

  “Huh.” He un-twirled the lock of hair and re-twirled it around his finger. “Let me try, then.”

  “Sure.” She shrugged, a big mistake when it made her breasts rub against his chest. Rub a little, huh, more like a massage because they were mashed together. Delicious. She could feel every hard swell against her soft curves and boy, was it doing things to her that she’d treasure in her memory forever. Keep cool! Keep cool!

  Seemingly unaffected, Alan looked her directly in the eyes. “You’re reputation as an erotic writer stems from your façade as a woman experienced in everything she writes. You’ve fed that belief until everyone who reads your books thinks you’re this chick who has personally experienced everything she’s written, every naughty, decadent word. Right so far?”

  “You’re telling the story.”

  “But Sophie Willow, Sex Queen, has never made love to a bloke. Or even a vibrator, for that matter.”

  Her cheeks were on fire. Jesus! He had heard everything!

  “Sophie Willow is a complete virgin. The Virgin Sex Queen, in fact.”

  “Oh God, just rub it in!”

  “Sure.” He rocked his hips against her, shocking her. “But can I finish my story first? Then we can really rub.” He grinned. “And more.”

  Speechless, she could only stare up at him, belatedly remembering to instead switch it to a glare.

  “Your reputation and career will suffer if it ever gets found out that you are, in fact, a virgin. Untouched, pure, etcetera etcetera.”

  “Are you going to blackmail me?” she demanded.

  “Am I right?”

  “Yes, yes, you’re right, okay? But only because you eavesdropped and knew the whole bloody story anyway!”

  “A good cop always keeps his ear to the ground,” Alan replied smugly.

  “So does a nosy one. Are you going to blackmail me? Is that the plan here?”

  “Not at all.”

  “I constantly amuse you, don’t I? What am I, entertainment?”

  “Yes, you do amuse me sometimes,” he replied. “You make me laugh.”

  Ouch.

  “But you amuse me in the nicest way, Soph.” Un-twirling the lock of hair from his finger, he tucked it gently behind her ear before again meeting her eyes. “You make me laugh in the nicest way, and I love it when you laugh with me. I admit I like teasing you, I like seeing that spark in your eyes. Your smart mouth and quick comebacks delight me. But most of all…” His gaze wandered across her face.

  The night was suddenly still, the darkness seeming to envelope them in a private little cocoon. He was close enough for her to see every line of his face even with his back to the moonlight. Those firm, masculine lips which she now knew could soften at all the right moments. His straight nose, the firm jaw, and the thick eyelashes that hid those dark eyes that darkened even more with delicious promises.

  Then those thick lashes lifted and those dark eyes were looking directly down at her, and the promises in them were so very dark, so very hot.

  “But most of all, Soph, I like you,” he said huskily.

  Like was one thing, but the like he was hinting at, the like glowing in his eyes, the like she was seeing on his face, was not quite the same kind of like she knew. His like was carnal.

  “I like you beneath me,” he whispered, leaning closer and closer still until his mouth hovered just above hers, his breath sweeping out to tickle her lips and slide past to be sucked into her lungs in a dizzying invasion. “I like you at my mercy, to do with as I please.”

  Her brain was in overload. Sensations, heat, desire, the magic of the moment, it all surged through her in a combination that had her arching up to meet him.

  Their lips met and his were as silky as she remembered. Not very experienced in kissing, she was more than happy for him to lead the way, and he was obviously more than happy to take control.

  Coaxing, pressing, sliding, his lips moved against hers, and she followed him, doing his silent bidding, opening when his tongue traced the seams of her lips and nudged. His taste filled her even as he plundered the depths of her mouth, seeking and taking from her, demanding more, and she could only follow, learning from his groans of pleasure, his whispered encouragement when his lips left hers to trail across her cheek and further to her ear, pressing open-mouthed kisses to her overheated skin.

  A kiss, a lick, and then his mouth was on her throat, fastening, sealing, the strength of his mouth drawing on her making her loins weep.

  Unable to think clearly, the sensations and passion of the moment sweeping her up in a burning prurience, Sophie forgot all about her surroundings, the house, Sam, the neighbours. Hidden by the night, the bushes, the shelter of Alan above her, she threw caution to the wind and revelled in the heat of the moment, the sheer ecstasy of being in a man’s arms, of feeling a large, hard body above her, a man’s lips on hers, the clear desire he had for her evident by the hard shaft pressing against the apex of her thighs.

  That the man was Alan made it so much more magical, so sinfully, hedonistically magical.

  His scent filled her nose, his essence her mouth, and the heat of his body seeped through her skin to coil around deep inside her, warming places she hadn’t even known were cold.

  Tugging the elastic free so that her hair tumbled to the ground around her head, Alan tangled his hand in the thick mass, using it to hold her head at the right angle for him to kiss her again, mastering her, kissing and licking deep, eating at her mouth like a starving man, as though he couldn’t get enough of the taste of her.

  “So sweet,” he groaned huskily. “You make me so Goddamn hungry, Soph. I could feast on your mouth forever.”

  He did it so expertly, too, and she accepted him as hungrily as he took her.
r />   She wasn’t aware of his other hand until a big palm cupped her breast, fingers sliding beneath the clasp at the front to snap it free, then Alan’s calloused palm was pressed against her bare breast, making her gasp into his mouth and press into that expert hand.

  Rubbing, massaging, his hand tested the globe, fingers spreading out to dig lightly into the tender flesh, making her whimper in longing for more, so much more, and then he gave it to her, spearing her nipple between two fingers, scissoring dexterously to tease the nub until it was hard, peaking, begging for something she knew she should recognise - God knew she wrote about it enough - but she couldn’t remember, only want.

  He laughed softly, darkly against her lips, but she didn’t care, couldn’t think of a coherent word to say. But he knew what she wanted, proved it when he kissed, open-mouthed and hot, down her throat and shoulders, further, his hands cupping her breasts as he leaned down to lick first one begging nipple, then the other, blowing lightly on them, his teeth a wicked gleam in the dark when he glanced up to watch her shivering reaction.

  “So hot, Sophie.” His voice was as dark as his eyes. “So hot, baby. You’re burning up.”

  “Please, Alan, please.” She could barely speak, her voice a whimper.

  “Poor baby.” The words were whispered against her nipples, that wicked tongue spearing out to touch the tips one at a time. “How about I give you a little release, Soph? How about I give you - this?”

  The sensation of his hot mouth engulfing her nipple had her writhing, his hold on her hips tightening as he drew on her, sucking long and hard, her tender nipples so ultra sensitive she thought she’d surely faint.

  Invisible strings tied to her secrets deep inside pulled taut, quivering, and just when she thought it couldn’t get any better, he shifted his attention to her other nipple, licking and teasing, making her moan and whimper before he took pity on her and sucked deep, drawing once again, his tongue pressing and rubbing even as he sucked.

  Slow, torturous sucks, deep and hot, driving her insane with the ardour raking through her.

  Strings of heated nerves stretched taut, she could feel herself flying towards something, cresting, her breath almost sobbing, so caught up in sensation.