The Virgin's Revenge by Dee Tenorio Page A

that or bite it. He always did have the most adorable rear end. Something she was tempted most every week to grab hold of and not let go. She was even ready to tell him so, but he chose that second to graze her cheek with the stubble on his chin.
    “How long have you had that belly piercing?”
    Just like that, she was back to melting. She closed her eyes at his rough whisper, swallowing despite how dry her mouth had just gone. “A-a while.”
    “It’s…nice.” His lips rubbed her temple as he spoke.
    Nice?
    And crap, when did her fingers curl around the zippered edges of his leather jacket?
    “One look at that little gem, and I didn’t care if you had six brothers or twelve.” His breath, warm on her ear, stirred the strands of hair on the side of her face, tickling her skin. “None of them were going to keep me from getting through to you this time.”
    “When did you try before?” Was that her voice? It couldn’t be, not all breathy and sighing.
    “I never did. Which makes me the dumbest idiot on the planet. But not anymore.”
    She swayed toward him, following his warmth.
    Which probably explained her surprise when she stumbled forward and only found the putter she’d forgotten all about being pressed firmly back between her hands. She looked at him, now several feet away, frowning. “What’s this?”
    “A challenge.” He turned and headed back to the first tee. “If you beat me, you’ll get to pick our next date. Anything you want. Any way you want it.”
    Her bedroom. Without question.
    But she’d been a sister way too long not to ask questions of her own. “And if you win?”
    “I pick. You’ll do anything I come up with.”
    Her choked laughter this time had way too many virginal fears in it. Especially considering that many of the erotic fantasies she had of him probably weren’t physically possible. Her body was more than willing to do whatever he could come up with. Hell, it wanted to make several suggestions.
    Besides, what were the odds that he’d win? Cole might kick her ass at anything electronic or mathematic, but the man was hopeless at physical games. He couldn’t even win Whack-A-Mole.
    “You’re on.”
    But if he was a gracious loser, she might still consider that swallowing thing again.
    Maybe.
    If he was good.

Chapter Six
     
    Amanda nuzzled her pillow, the late summer sun already warming her bed. She stretched, moaning as sleep slowly faded from her mind.
    A warm kiss fluttered at the small of her back, gentle fingers settling over her bare waist. She raised her brows, pleasure seeping through her senses. Another kiss, a nip almost, before those fingertips slid over her skin to stroke her belly.
    “Cole?” she asked, loath to open her eyes. This was possibly the best way ever to wake up on a Monday morning. More kisses, more strokes. The flat of his palm roving up her ribs to find her breast and claim it in a firm clasp. All the while, his tongue drew deliciously hot patterns on her back.
    She gasped, his fingers plucking at her nipples. Rolling the hardened tips with a lazy determination. Her body arched, legs tangling in the sheets. His mouth found the back of her neck, his teeth dragging erotically up one side and down the other. He never let go of her breasts, either, rubbing them against each other, continuing the plucking at the tips that was about to make her lose her mind.
    “Touch yourself for me,” he whispered in that shiver-inducing tone.
    Oh, it would be so easy to do that. She was already parting her legs, the ache at her center growing slick and needy, but she’d had more than enough of touching herself. She wanted his hands on her. His mouth. His everything .
    She moaned, scissoring her legs back and forth. Her wetness seemed to double at just the idea of his fingertips parting her, delving through her folds, finding the hard pebble of her clit. How long had she wondered what it would feel like to have his hands on her body? What his touch would be like