Baddest Bad Boys Read Online Free PDF Page B

something I want to know,” he said slowly.

    “If it’s sexual in nature, I don’t want to tell you,” she said swiftly.

    He slanted her a glance. “You’re the one who set the tone for the evening when you invited me to pop your cherry,” he observed.

    “Don’t remind me. It’s indelicate,” she said tartly. “Besides, you turned me down flat. So you have no right to keep harping on it.”

    “Exactly how much of a virgin are you?” he asked baldly.

    She squinted at him, uncomprehending. “Huh? You mean, there are degrees? It’s not quantitative, Jon. You are or you aren’t.”

    “There are always degrees,” he said. “How about oral? Done it?”

    She pulled her knees to her chest, muscles clenching around the rush of startled arousal that the question had provoked. “Nope.”

    “You mean, you’ve never given it, or you’ve never gotten it?”

    “Neither one,” she said. “Strange, but true.”

    He let out a low whistle. “Ever jerked a guy off?”

    She covered her pinkening face. “Ah, no.”

    “Finger fucking?” he went on. “Has any guy ever made you come?”

    She thought about it, biting her lip. “Well…there was this party in college once. I drank too much, and passed out on a pile of coats. And when I woke up, this guy I barely knew had his hand in my underwear. It was really gross. So I guess that doesn’t count.”

    “I guess not.” His face was hard. “What did you do?”

    “Screamed,” she admitted. “Kicked him.”

    “Good,” he said savagely. “Asshole. I’m glad you woke up when you did. Who was the shit?”

    “Who cares?” she asked.

    “I do,” he said. “Guys who molest unconscious girls deserve to be neutered. To improve the quality of the human gene pool.”

    “Oh.” She peeked at his profile. “I don’t remember his name.”

    The fire crackled. Crazy shadows from the flickering lamp roamed over the walls. She stared at the stark planes and shadows of his face, and wondered if she should read any softening of his position into all these sexually charged questions. She didn’t know him that well, in spite of having a crush on him for fourteen years.

    But hell with it. He’d had a little time to get used to the shocking idea. And he was asking questions that made her thighs tingle and her face turn pink. What did she have to lose? Why not just…try again?

    More aggressively, this time. Men were simple physical creatures, or so she’d been told. In thrall to their own bodies. Stimulus equals response. The only problem now was that she was too scared to move.

    For God’s sake. She wasn’t asking him to marry her. She wanted what he gave a different woman every week. No big fucking deal. Really.

    She got up, pulled off the sweatshirt, and felt his tension rise.

    “Put that right back on,” he said softly.

    She spun, with a burst of fierce resolve, planted her knee next to him and swung the other over his lap. He made a shocked sound, and tried to wrestle her off. She countered by putting her weight on his crotch. His fingers tightened on her arms. “What the fuck is this?”

    “I just want to convince you that it’s worth the catastrophe.”

    He caught his breath as she undulated on his lap. “Oh, God.”

    “It’s not your fault,” she assured him. “Don’t worry. You’re absolved of blame. I jumped you. There was nothing you could do.”

    “Bullshit! I outweigh you by at least eighty pounds! Get off me!”

    She took a deep breath, arched her back, popped open the buttons on her chemise top. One…then two…three. It gaped.

    He stared down at her, his breathing quickening. “Oh, Jesus.”

    She shrugged the garment off. “You don’t have to go all the way, if you’re so anxious,” she coaxed. “But could you reduce my virgin status by a few dinky, insignificant percentage points? Is it so much to ask?”

    His hands were shaking. “It doesn’t work that way.”

    “No? Why not?” She cuddled closer.