Griffin lifts his mouth from mine and makes a sharp inhale, like he's trying to gather his willpower. It's strange how it's so still out here that I can hear the beating of my own heart.. "Juliette, you didn't answer. Do you like this? Do you feel comfortable? Can you stand to be here with me for the weekend?" He laughs gently and smiles against my mouth.

I murmur a yes, but I'd rather jump up and down and shout with glee, I'm so excited. Instead, I wrap my arms around him. He holds me tight for a few long seconds and there's something delicately emotional about the hug.

Maybe it's because I feel protected in a way I've never felt before, or because he seems new and dangerous, yet so familiar. Regardless, the sensation is incredible. I'm a curvy girl — Mom says I haven't lost my baby fat — but in his arms, I feel tiny. That's how tall and strong he is.

His hands hold firm on my back, sliding up and down. I want to kiss him again but am not sure I should ask first, or just do it.

I just do it.

He lets out a low growl and breaks away. "Let's get inside."

It only takes a few steps. He locks the sliding glass door behind us and I expect us to move to the sofa. Maybe sit and talk a bit.

Instead, he takes my hand and leads me to a door. Blood is wooshing in my ears because I know this is it. This is the night I'll lose my virginity. As if in a dream, I follow him into the bedroom. He lets go of me while he fumbles for a lamp.

The light flicks on. It isn't bright, but bright enough to make me wonder if I'll feel self-conscious when naked. Bright enough to allow me to take in my surroundings for a few seconds.

The bed's comforter is the crispest, whitest thing I've ever seen, with sky blue accent pillows. Will we get under the covers first? A large abstract painting with matching blue swirls hangs above the bed, and I notice that the lamps are also the exact shade as well. There are also two white upholstered stools at the foot of the bed. Simple perfection.

Someone probably had a decorator in here. Why am I thinking about decorators when my heart is slamming against my chest? My back feels vaguely sweaty.

He turns to me and holds out his hand. I take a few hesitant steps until I'm in his arms. That's better, but I'm still overwhelmed and nervous.

"Um, don't you want to do this with the lights out?"

He shakes his head and his hands go in my hair, his palms skimming my cheeks. The grin on his face is wickedly sexy. "Need to see what I'm doing."

While kissing me ferociously, he backs me up to the bed. When the underside of my knees hits the mattress, he gently pushes me down. He's kissing me all the while, biting my lips and taking a fistful of hair, pulling so my neck is exposed.

Somehow we scoot ourselves fully into the middle, and he sweeps the blue accent pillows onto the floor. He's on top of me, hard and hot. Pressing himself into me. The roughness of his jeans feels somehow amazing against my bare legs.

My earlier hesitation has gone away a little, and I'm back to wanting him. Aching for him, in fact. He leans on one side and skims his hand over my breast, down my stomach and to my hipbone. Wait. He's not at my hipbone. He's lifting my dress.

I sit up and allow him to pull it over my head. I lie back, trying to ignore the feeling of wanting to cross my arms over my chest. I've worn one of my two nice panty-and-bra sets, and the other one is in my bag. This one is white, because I didn't want it to show through my light cotton dress.

"Christ, I knew you were beautiful but you're way beyond anything I imagined."

When his eyes roam my body, my blood feels like it's on fire. I've never been in this situation with a guy before, and all of the new physical sensations are rushing at me at once, overloading my brain. Like the way my skin seems to spark whenever he touches me. How does he do that? Can he tell?

The way my nipples rub against my bra. The way I feel between my legs, wet and creamy. I've read enough romance novels to know what's happening, but I didn't expect to throb down there.

Griffin kisses my belly button and licks a circle around it with the tip of his tongue. My breath comes in shallow gulps as goosebumps bloom on my stomach. With a casual pluck of his fingers, he unhooks the front clasp of my bra. My breasts aren't small, and they spring out of the bra cups.

"Oh fuck, Juliette," Griffin says in a hoarse voice as I wriggle out of the straps.

He sits up, straddling me but not putting weight on my hips, and holds both of my breasts in his hands. My nipples are hard, and they poke in the space between his thumb and forefinger. He leans forward and takes one in his mouth, and I gasp.

This. Feels. So. Good.

He sucks hard, sending an urgent river of need from my breast to between my legs. I whimper, and he raises his head and grins lustily, before turning his attention to the other breast. There's something primal about watching him. At first, I don't know what to do with my hands or my legs or my shoulders, and will my muscles to relax. My hands are gripping the comforter and I release the fabric so I can gently run my hands through Griffin's burnt caramel-colored hair. It's soft, and one more tactile sensation for my overloaded mind.

He might be the most beautiful person on the planet. Especially when his hair is rumpled and his slightly red lips — red from my bites — are at my nipple. His tongue circles and I realize the meaning of the word erotic for the first time.

"I'm almost naked and you're still clothed," I murmur.

He sits up and hastily sheds his T-shirt, revealing a tight, muscular body, as if speed is of the essence. He puts his hands on the belt of his jeans, then shakes his head. "I need to do this now."

"Do what?" As much as this feels so good, so right, I'm worried I'm all wrong. That I'm moving wrong somehow, or not kissing him enough or not writhing in ecstasy like the women I've seen in movies. I am hot and edgy and a little anxious and I wonder how to relieve the throbbing down below.

Griffin pushes my legs apart with his knee, then leans forward to press his lips to mine. "I have to feel your skin against mine."

Slowly, he dips his chest so it brushes against my breasts. My whole body flashes with heat and I let out a long ohhhh. He does it again, only this time with more contact, skimming his body over mine. Then he settles on top of me and we're skin-to-skin.

"So fucking perfect, Juliette. Can't even speak in complete sentences around you." He chuckles a little and pries my hands from the comforter and raises them above my head, pinning me by the wrists. Instinctually, I wrap my legs around him and he skims his hand from my belly to my neck.

Maybe I look startled, because he lets go and kisses me. Then grinds into me. Kiss and grind, grind and kiss.The friction makes me whimper. I shut my eyes, concentrating on the sensation. But when he presses his hips into mine, against one certain spot, I gasp and open my eyes.

"Right there, hmm?" He makes a small circular motion with his hips and I mewl again. Every time I make a sound, he glances at me. I don't know if he's confused by my whimpers or turned on, but I can see the pulse beating at the base of his throat, and his eyes seem far more dilated than when we were in the car.

"You can be loud, Juliette. No one's going to hear you. Just let go. Be as wild as you want. I want to make you scream when I fuck you."

Should I tell him that I've never been wild in my life? I don't have time to ponder this because he's sitting up and running his hands all over my body. It's like he can't get enough of me. His hands are powerful and I can't think of anything other than how much I want him.

He sucks in a breath and shifts again on his side. I go to mirror his pose but he shakes his head. I love when he does that, all lazy and with half-lidded eyes. "Stay where you are."

Propping himself on his elbow, he squeezes my breast hard, then sucks just as rough. I never knew a touch could be possessive until this moment, because his hand is exploring my body like he's in total control while his mouth has taken command of my nipple.

I gasp loud when his hand pauses at the waistband of my underwear, then goes lower, cupping between my legs. He lifts his head from my nipple and grins. I shut my eyes because it's too much, the sensation of his fingers on me, right up against that pulsing, needy spot. We're only separated by the thin fabric of my underwear.

"Look at me." His voice is low and gravelly.

I open my eyes to stare at him, while my skin prickles in a way it never has.

"Spread your legs a little more. Yeah. Like that. I want to feel how wet you are."

Somehow I never imagined he'd talk dirty, or at least not right away. I am so naïve. My mouth drops open, partially from shock and partially because I need air. Perspiration blooms everywhere my skin is touching the bedspread.

"You like this?" He presses his finger firmer into me.

Oh God. I shudder, and nod. I think I've lost my ability to speak English.

"Should make you come? You want my fingers or my tongue?"

"Oh! Um..." I pant. Part of me is floored. The other part of me wants to beg him to do whatever he wants. Because what he's doing is so incredible. His mouth?

"Hm? What do you want, baby? Talk to me."

"Fingers..."

He makes a humming sound. "You know what you want. I love that in a woman."

It's impossible to dwell on the irony of his words because he's stroking me me lightly. Slowly. God, so slow I might die. He rakes his fingers from the wet fabric up to the waistband. Then equally as slow, he slips his hand underneath.

"Please?" I whisper.

"Please what?" He says this as his finger slide between my folds. I'm so slippery that I wonder if he'll find the pulsing spot, and to my surprise, he does. I let him stroke and stroke, circle and rub. My body feels like it's on fire from the inside and the sensation is exhilarating. And safe, too, because I trust where he's taking me.

At least, I think I do. How could something this good be wrong in any way?

"Right there?" He stretches the words out. His lips skimming my cheek, his hot breath against my skin, his long eyelashes brushing my temple — the sensations burn into my brain and I hope they remain there forever. I can smell his cologne, a scent of citrus and tension and something that feels uniquely mine. I murmur something unintelligible.

"Yes, Juliette. Right. There."

"Y-yes. There."

His mouth is against my ear. "I was going to put my fingers inside you, but I want my cock there first. Is that okay?"

I nod, feeling the pressure and the throbbing build as he circles the spot. My underwear are stretching against my thighs, pulled only a little down my hips.

"You're getting wetter the more I touch you. You feel so fucking good."

At the word fucking, or maybe when he draws out the word good, I feel simultaneously a little dirty and an intense, urgent edge. Like I'm filled with need and strung tight and only he can fix it. The dirty part isn't bad; it's warm and sexy and greedy, in ways I've never experienced. His lips graze my cheek with the slightest of touches, and that combined with what he's doing with his fingers is frighteningly intimate and sharply erotic.

"Faster." I breathe the word, not knowing how — or what — what I need at this point. Or why.

I'm trapped between desire and climax. I can only hear him, and the blood rushing in my ears. I open my legs a little wider and wriggle my hips into his hand. Yes. More contact. Extra pressure. Now.

"More."

He lets out a soft groan. "Can't wait to feel my cock in your sweet little pussy."

I let out a loud gasp and whisper something about how I can't believe he said that. He hums low and slow in my ear in response, a sound so sensual that I can't hang on anymore. That's when I burst. Or it feels that way.

Once, during a summer storm, I saw lightning hit electrical wires. They flashed and sparked until the transformer burst into a ball of light.Right now, I'm that ball of light. And Griffin seems to know it.

"Yes, like that, beautiful. Just like that."

As I'm crying out, I squirm away so he's not touching me anymore. Why am I so sensitive down there? I roll over, my back to him, trying to collect myself. It's as if every nerve ending in my body felt that release. Any touch would be too much, because my skin feels raw.

I feel his lips on my shoulder and I shiver. "You okay?"

It hits me that I'm probably being selfish, that he'll want me to do something similar. Or he'll want to have sex. Right away. Allison's told me about blue balls before, and I'd laughed, saying it was just a myth.

I also want to make him feel as good as I do. I roll over and grin, catching my breath. "Wow."

He kisses my nose and grins.

He sits up to a kneeling position and I study his sinewy muscles as he unbuckles his belt. I'm admiring his strong and solid body openly, unashamed, as he slides his pants down his hips. He does a little maneuver to get them off his legs, and I realize with more than a bit of sadness that he's probably perfected that move because he's done it so many times before. He has on black boxer briefs under his jeans, and he easily slides those, off too.

And that's when I gasp. Loud.

He. Is. So. Large. His... My God.

I can't help but stare. That's going in me? I bite my lip.

He responds with a laugh, and tugs on himself. "You don't have to pretend that I'm the biggest you've ever seen. I think I'm pretty average."

I press my thighs together and keep staring. Lick my lips and wonder if I should take off my underwear now or let him do it. Wonder if I should tell him that I'm a virgin. And why do I feel a fresh surge of warm heat between my legs?

"You're so hot. I'm going to fuck you all night." He leans down and kisses me ravenously, our tongues swirling together. "I'll get a condom. Craig said he left a box in the nightstand."

I can't take my eyes off his powerful, hard body as he crawls to the white nightstand and pulls open a drawer. He rips open a box, then tears into the foil packet. He's hard everywhere. His stomach and thighs and biceps and...

I watch, fascinated. Afraid. Will it hurt? Will I bleed? What if I don't do it right? I feel myself trembling as I study him. I was so certain about this before, and now I'm not. It's not that I don't want to — I totally do. I'm more worried that I'll be terrible.

His lips curl into a wicked smile while he rolls on the condom. "You looked so surprised when I took off my pants. It was as if you've never seen a guy's co ..." He looks up and his voice trails off.

Probably because I'm shaking uncontrollably.

"Oh, Juliette." His voice breaks, and he leans forward, touching my face softly, as if I'm a delicate crystal vase. "My angel."

____