Graham

I’ve been hard as steel since the moment I put this lesson plan into motion. Now, I’m on the verge of exploding.

Holy fuck, but she’s hot. Unbearably hot.

CJ, sweet, sexy CJ, is all grown up and bringing me to my knees.

That’s exactly where I want to be with her, soon. I can’t wait to be on my knees with my tongue between her legs, tasting her, feeling her tremble as I make her even hotter, wetter.

Why did I waste precious time stressing out about being her teacher? It’s so clear now that the answer should have always been yes. Hell to the motherfucking yes.

My hands glide up her hips as I tease my fingers beneath the fabric of her barely-there lace panties, which look every bit as delicious on her as I knew they would.

“Your ass was made for fine lingerie,” I murmur into her hair. “I’m going to send you these in every single color.”

“If you insist,” she says, her breath catching as I draw the panties down.

“You were made for something this gorgeous.” I hold her gaze in the mirror as I bare her round, firm, heart-stopping ass and the thatch of dark hair between her legs.

Fuck me, but she’s perfect.

I drop to my knees, unable to resist pressing a kiss to her bare ass, kissing her once, twice, before I rake my teeth over her tender flesh.

She cries out in response, her surprised sound transforming to an exquisite moan as I drag her soaked panties all the way down to the floor and urge her to step forward, one sexy heel at a time. As soon as they’re free, I fist my fingers in the fabric—the crotch is so damn wet, Jesus—before tossing it aside.

She’s every bit as turned on as I am, hands now braced on the mirror to steady herself, and it’s probably going to kill me. I’m going to be dead by the time we’re done, but hell, what a way to go.

I stand, draw her back to my front, and run a finger along the seam of her pussy. She melts against my body as I glide back and forth through her slick, swollen flesh. She’s so ready, so eager, and the sweet, sexy scent of her is driving me insane. I explore her gently, pulsing and teasing, her gasps and moans like music in my ears. She arches her spine, trembling as I reach her throbbing clit. I slide my fingers across it, and she gasps, the sound of her sheer, unadulterated pleasure making my dick impossibly harder.

She tosses her head back, her fingers clawing at the glass in front of her as I trace circles across that swollen bundle of nerves.

“Oh, Graham,” she murmurs, her voice a shot of desire into my veins. “It’s so good. I had no idea it could be so good.”

“And it’s only going to get better,” I promise as I slowly, gently, press a finger inside her, making her gasp. Jesus Christ, she’s tight, incredibly tight.

Pinning her closer against my chest, I nibble on her earlobe as I go deeper, my thumb rubbing her clit at the same time. She cries out again—whether from the bite or the finger fucking, I don’t know, but I’m hoping it’s both, it’s everything, it’s all the heat and fire we’re creating in this dark, secret room.

“I can’t wait to hear you come,” I say, my cock so hard she can surely feel it pressing against the curve of her sweet ass. “Are you going to come for me, Butterfly?”

She nods and whimpers softly. “God, I think so. I think I’m close . . .”

My rhythm falters for a moment as a tragic suspicion sweeps through me. I know she’s never had sex, but surely . . .

“Have you ever come, baby?” I ask gently.

“N-not with someone else around.” Her eyes slide closed as embarrassment tightens her features.

I freeze for a nanosecond, processing this new info. Lesson one is apparently going to be even more of a leap than I’d assumed.

But I’m going to make damn sure that leap is more than worth it. Silently, I thank the stupid bastards who didn’t break their tongues making her come, because I get to be the first to coax a delicious, intoxicating orgasm from her.

And I won’t fail.

“That’s about to change,” I rasp out.

Her lips press together, but her eyes stay closed. “It’s my fault. I get nervous and I can’t—” Her words break off with a soft cry as I rub her clit in another firm circle and then another. “I-I can’t . . .”

“Shh, baby. You can,” I promise. “And you will.”

Or I will die trying, I add silently, completely ready to give my life if that’s what it takes to bring my beautiful, sexy CJ to the other side of the cliff. I will deliver her first orgasm right here, right now, or I don’t deserve to walk out the door still pretending to be a man.

* * *

CJ

I open my eyes in time to see my cheeks flush scarlet in the mirror and Graham watching me over my shoulder. His big, strong hands and wickedly talented fingers continue to work between my legs, building the swell of pleasure that threatens to pull me under any second.

I want to be pulled. I want to fall. Pleasure crawls up my legs, curls tight in my belly. I’m on the edge, so close I can taste it. I’ve brought myself here countless times. I’ve flown off the edge to so many fantasies. I know how it feels, the delicious pressure, the intense waves. But what will it be like when I don’t have to work for every ounce of it solo?

My lashes flutter, but Graham shakes his head, holding my gaze.

“Keep those eyes open, gorgeous. Let me see you get hotter for me.”

With my arms trembling, I press my fingers flat against the glass as he palms a breast, squeezing and kneading as his other hand rocks between my legs. I climb higher, higher, until the air is so thick with desire I can barely breathe.

I’m shaking. I’m shaking everywhere, panting and moaning, and I can barely take all these wild sensations chasing through me.

“I love turning you on,” he says, his breath hot in my ear. “You’re the sweetest, sexiest thing I’ve ever felt, and the smell of you makes me crazy.”

I gasp as the steel rod of his erection presses more firmly into the small of my back. I’m too drunk on everything to speak. Pleasure, anticipation, fear, desire . . . all surging, pulsing, building. This feeling is beyond anything I expected, anything I could have imagined before I knew what it felt like to be in Graham’s arms.

His mouth is on my neck, devouring my skin, his tongue sending waves of electricity coursing through my body as he picks up speed with his hand. The driving rhythm makes every nerve vibrate with a terrible, beautiful longing.

In all the times I’ve given myself pleasure, I’ve never felt anything like this. I’m crazy, wild, lost, but so close to being found.

So close, so close . . .

God, yes . . .

“Graham!” I buck against him, meeting his thrusts. Now he has two fingers inside me, stretching me, moving harder and faster, his thumb racing over my clit as I ride his hand. And suddenly, there it is, that deep, desperate pull between my legs, in my stomach, rising higher, tighter until it bursts.

I come so hard my vision blurs, and I have to bite my tongue to stop from screaming. Shudders rack my body, and pleasure washes over my skin, lapping sweet and vicious inside my bones until I know I will never be the same.

I press my bare lower body against Graham and my cheek against the cold mirror, ready for him to pull away, but he clearly has no intention of stopping. His fingers continue their nimble work, thrusting and rubbing. Before I’ve fully recovered from the first time—my first non-solo flight ever—I’ve re-boarded the roller coaster, swooping down and then up, up—

This time, I nearly stop breathing.

This time, I don’t just leave earth. I leave my body, soaring skyward as bliss pulses through me, changing me, transforming me. Teaching me things I’ve never known before. Dark, delicious secrets that can only be communicated when two people are skin to skin.

As I drift down through puffy, orgasm-colored clouds, Graham withdraws his hand from between my legs and gently but firmly guides my mouth to his. He kisses me deep, hard, but-oh-so sweet, sending heat spreading through my chest.

“You’re incredible,” he murmurs against my lips.

Am I? Really? I haven’t done anything for him.

At least, not yet . . .

Oh, but I want to. I want it almost as badly as I wanted the release he coaxed out of me like the master of pleasure he is.

I really did pick the best teacher in the entire history of the world.

I reach back, running my hand up the length of his hardness through his pants. But before I can do more than touch—before I can even come to terms with just how large he is down there—he bats my hand away.

“Not now,” he says, his voice tight, almost irritated.

I straighten my spine, embarrassed. “But I want . . . You’re supposed to, I mean . . . I mean, I’m supposed to . . .” I stop, my face burning as I ease my skirt over my hips.

Graham, however? He just leans back against the wall, smoothing his shirt calmly as he shrugs. “Don’t worry about ‘supposed to’ right now, okay? I’m the teacher, remember?”

I swallow. “I-I know. And that was wonderful.” Life-altering is more like it. I still can’t feel my feet. “But I want to learn how to drive men wild.”

And how to drive you wild in particular . . .

“Mission accomplished, gorgeous. But this is as far as we go tonight.”

Before I can respond, he leans down, kissing me like I’m the heroine of a classic movie. He kisses me like they used to kiss when films were black and white and passion had to fill in for all the other colors. He kisses me like I’ve always dreamed of being kissed—like I’m the one, the girl, the long-lost lover-friend my man has been looking for—before whispering, “Until next time, Butterfly,” and slipping out the door.

“Graham?” I squeak, but he doesn’t come back. He’s gone.

Lesson one is over.

Still shell-shocked, I blink faster, looking around our small, private lounge, my hand flying to cover my mouth when I spot the enormous floor-to-ceiling window on the far wall. The one with a view high above the streets of Manhattan and the lights blazing in the windows of the building on the other side of the street. Which means—

Someone could have seen.

Well, duh, that’s the point of a public quickie.

I drag in a deep breath, wondering what the heck I’ve gotten myself into. Lesson one was insanely good, yes. Better than I’d even hoped. Almost too good.

So good it felt . . . dangerous somehow.

No matter how much I trust Graham, I don’t know if I trust myself.

Do I have what it takes to fly that high, that close, without sustaining life-shattering injuries in the process? Sure, I know Graham would never hurt my body, but what about my heart? That squishy, love-hungry organ that has always been way too sweet on Graham Campbell for its own good?

As long as I keep my head up, I’ve got this. There’s no reason my heart needs to overextend itself. This is a seven-days-to-seduction deal, and like any good business arrangement, you simply see it through, brush your hands, and move on when you’re done.

“Woman up,” I say to myself. “You’re a big girl. You can do this. You have to do this, and you will be just fine.”

Smart or not, I must see this through. After what I just experienced, I’m more certain than ever that I have Grand-Canyon-size gaps in my erotic knowledge, gaps that only Graham can help me fill. Too bad I have plans tomorrow night, but I’m confident he’ll give me extra credit work the next time I see him.

After taking a few more deep breaths and smoothing the worst of the wrinkles from my skirt, I find my panties on the floor. Stuffing them in my purse, I totter out the door and make my way unsteadily through the bar. It’s grown more crowded—a good thing, since no one seems to notice the disheveled, sex-rumpled girl making her way to the elevators. In the lobby, I charge past the line of people waiting for a taxi.

Time to walk this off, girlfriend.

My head is still swimming. My feet are giant gummy bears that wobble unsteadily beneath me as I plod the ten blocks to my apartment building. Sounds are louder. Lights are brighter. The world has shifted. I’ve walked home at night a million times, but suddenly, everything is different, sparkling, dusted in magic.

I’m floating up the two stories to my apartment’s front door when my phone hums in my purse.

I smile, heat rushing to my face again as I remember his hands on me, erasing the memory of all hands that had been there before.

Before I can reply that yes, I’m home, another text hums through.

I grin as I open my e-reader app to see the newest hide-under-the-covers read by my favorite mistress of horror. I tap out a thank you as I close my apartment door behind me.

Lesson two . . .

Oh my God, lesson two.

I shiver, my thumbs quivering as I reply.

Lesson two, ready or not, here I come . . .