“Did I ask you to go easy?” she whispered breathlessly. “I could have sworn I didn’t. All I’m asking for is tonight. This one adventure.”

He moved to the bed, settling against the pillows, half sitting, half reclining on the bed. He waited then. Watching her closely. She would initiate this; he wouldn’t.

A siren’s smile curled her pouty lips. Sultry innocence, impish temptation filled her eyes, and a second later she moved between his thighs, kneeling before him.

He was almost holding his breath, anticipation burning through him.

The fingers of one hand threaded through her hair again, tightened in the strands, his breathing becoming harsh as her lashes fluttered at the little sting he created at her scalp.

“Slow and easy,” he ordered, the sound of his voice, deep and guttural, warning him of the line he was crossing. “Make it real good, baby.”

“Or what?” she whispered, the slumberous arousal and tempting hunger in her gaze making him crazy for her mouth.

“Or I won’t show you just how thin that line between pleasure and pain can get.”

Excitement flared in her gaze. Holding the shaft with one hand, Doogan pulled her head down to meet the broad, mushroomed crest slowly.

His self-control had never been so shaky and he knew it, even before he felt the touch of her shy, inquisitive little tongue licking over the thick crown.

“Ahh hell, Zoey.” His head fell back against the headboard, his hips jerking toward her, desperate to fill her mouth with his hard flesh.

How long he could maintain his control enough to allow her innocence to accustom itself to such an intimate act he didn’t know. Not for long was for damned sure. Because he had to watch.

Watch the innocence merge with the sensual, erotic thrill and dawning knowledge of exactly how good it could get. Whether she was doing him, or he was doing her, how fucking good it could be.

Instinct assured him Zoey was far more innocent than even her virginity implied, though. For all her bravado, her sweet mouth was as much virgin territory to a man’s cock as her pussy, and he knew it, sensed it.

“That’s it, baby,” he encouraged as her hand brushed his away to grip the base herself, her tongue licking, loving the throbbing head.

The wide, thick crest pulsed a bead of pre-cum, the droplet quickly caught by her eager little tongue as it swiped over the dark, sensitive crest.

Ropy veins pounded with blood; pleasure throbbed through the heavy shaft, swelling it further, harder. Delicate fingers had no hope of meeting as they caressed the iron-hard stalk, her tongue licking, playing. And he wanted nothing more than to watch, to feel those pouty lips stretching, reddening as the thick flesh pierced them.

“Look at me, witch. Open your eyes, let me see your pleasure,” he groaned as she tongued the sensitive undercrest with delicious little licks, fraying his already thin control. “Let me see your pretty eyes.”

Thick, long lashes lifted. Her pale green eyes, now ringed with the brilliant darker green at the outside of the iris, nearly did him in. Before he could cover her fingers with his own, showing her where to apply pressure to hold back his release, a pulse of semen spilled from the slit topping the crown to meet the heat of her tongue.

She stiffened; a breath later her mouth enclosed the throbbing crown with the sweetest, hottest pleasure he knew he’d ever experienced in his life. Just watching it, watching his brutally hard flesh stretch her lips, feeling her hot mouth close on him, was almost too much for his control.

As long as he’d been sexual, as many experienced women as had worked his dick over, he’d never felt such a blinding source of complete, white-hot sensation.

Her mouth moved over the throbbing head, her tongue tucking at that too-sensitive spot at the undercrest naturally, and she began to suck. Moving her lips over him, advance and retreat, the ring of emerald deepening at the outside of pale green.

“Fuckin’ witch,” he groaned, a hint of his Irish heritage slipping into his voice, his hands tightening in her hair, hips lifting to her, pushing the hard flesh deeper as he forced her fingers to apply the pressure needed to hold back the cum building in his balls. “That’s it, fuck me with those pretty lips, witch.”

The emerald ring brightened, the color like a thin ring of jewels, and she struggled for a second with the width of his flesh.

“Ah fuck . . . Zoey.” Her fingers played at the base of his shaft, the pressure easing, increasing as hunger began overtaking innocence, and she followed his lead, learning far too quickly how to make him crazy with her mouth.

Her lips and tongue were destroying him.

Tugging at her hair, giving her that little sting, he was rewarded by her mouth sinking lower, taking him deeper.

The sound of a low moan easing from her throat was almost a vibration at the crest. His balls tightened at the thought of taking her deeper, of piercing the tight confines of her throat, of teaching her how to give him a pleasure no other woman had ever been able to push past the lessons of previous lovers to learn.

He was the first to own her mouth. She had no preconceived blocks, no memories of overeager lovers trying to take too much too soon.

His balls tightened at the thought, drawn so close to the base of his shaft that it was torture.

And he had to hold back. Ah hell, nothing mattered but holding back and watching her eyes as he taught her how to destroy him with her hot little mouth.

As he tugged at her hair again, her mouth slipped lower again. He was desperate now, as talons of excessive carnal need dug into his testicles with a merciless grip.

With his free hand he found the curve of a breast, his fingers gripping the hard point of her nipple. Watching her eyes, seeing the growing excitement as she realized where he was headed, Doogan held her mouth in place and pressed his cock further over her tongue.

“Deeper,” he demanded, finding her nipple with his thumb and forefinger and exerting the lightest pressure.

The needy moan that slipped from her was all he needed.

Pulling back, watching her lips surround him, reddened and filled with his flesh, only deepened the hunger for more. To take more. To teach her the ultimate pleasure a woman could give a man with her mouth.

Pushing back inside, slow, feeling her mouth tighten, her tongue rubbing along the undercrest, dragged a groan from his chest.

“Take me deeper, baby. Can you do it, Zoey? Can you open that sweet throat enough to give me just a taste of it?” he dared her as her mouth tightened around the fiercely engorged crown. “Give me your throat, you little hellion. Swallow on my cock.”

He gave her the pressure she needed on her tight little nipple, rolling it in a heated grip, releasing it, tightening as he watched her eyes grow dazed.

Her lips eased further past the blunt width filling her mouth, slowly, taking him by increments as she felt her way through the act.

“Breathe in through your nose, deep.” It was all he could do to speak as she breathed in and he thrust deeper.

The heavy width of his cock head slipped to the entrance of that ultratight spot.

“Now swallow,” he groaned. “Damn me, baby, swallow on me,” he groaned.

She swallowed on the pressure, moaned, and sent racking shudders of violent pleasure ripping up his spine.

“Ahh fuck.” He pulled her head back, watching, holding her in place with the pressure on her hair, tugging, giving her a little burn as he let his fingers tighten on her nipple.

As he gave her the fire he thrust deep again, her mouth tightening, throat opening. She swallowed, moaned, that ring of color deepening around her iris, excitement blazing in her expression.

She was loving it. Moving on his cock, slow and easy, learning what she could take, what she couldn’t. And she was taking far more of him than the oversensitized flesh could bear.