Free The Boyfriend Experience by Michaela Wright Page A

fucking waste not to
take you out and show you off – god you look fucking good - but I
think I really just want you to - uh...”
    Her tone was confident, but she faltered. He
knew once she was comfortable she’d have no problem saying exactly
what she wanted.
    “Want me to what?”
    She glanced at the clock. “It’s seven now.
When do I have you til?”
    “Whenever you like.”
    “Oh, cut the Boyfriend crap. What time?”
    “Ten’o’clock.”
    She pursed her lips. “Yeah, I think I want
to stay in. I have a year’s worth to catch up on, if you know what
I mean.”
    He smiled despite the butterflies in his
stomach. The year before she’d made him go to a show, and the year
before that she’d made him take her dancing, and just about every
year he’d taken her to a birthday dinner. Despite looking forward
to their bedroom activities all night, he now longed for those
hours of preparation, of flirtation to quell the nerves that a man
like him shouldn’t have. She truly was his favorite, and he looked
forward to her every year.
    He swallowed and stepped toward her. “Well,
what kind of night is it, then?
    She raised an eyebrow. “What do you
mean?”
    “Are you in a ‘slut’ kind of mood, or a
‘sweet girl’ kind of mood?”
    She visibly shivered before she spoke. “Can
it be both?”
    She gave a mischievous smile and covered her
mouth.
    He nodded. “Of course.”
    He took another step.
    “Stop,” she said, her hand out before her.
He did as she asked. She cocked one hip to the side and took a
breath. “Tell me what you want to do to me.”
    His mouth fell open and he stared. This was
new.
    “You wouldn’t rather I show you?”
    “Oh, believe me, you’ll show me. I want to
hear you say it first.”
    He could hear the confidence building in her
voice and he liked it.
    “I want to tear that dress off of you and
-”
    “Don’t you dare tear this dress, it’s my
favorite color.”
    He laughed. “I know it is and it’s
beautiful, but I’d much rather see it on the floor -”
    “I would kill you if you tore this
dress.”
    “That’s good to know -”
    “In the street. Murder you.”
    “Do you want to know what I want to do to
you or would you rather just kill me now?”
    She smiled and came to him, surprising him
as she took hold of the buttons of his jacket, gently unbuttoning
him and running her hands across his stomach to his sides. He
leaned in to embrace her. She stopped him.
    “No, you keep your hands to yourself,” she
said, pressing her cheek to his jaw. Her hands played across his
chest, her fingers slipping under the fabric of the shirt. She ran
the tip of her nose along his jaw, inhaling deeply. He groaned.
    “Not sure if I can.”
    She pulled away just enough to meet his gaze
and gave him a flirtatiously stern look. “You better. Keep your
hands to yourself and tell me exactly what you want to do to
me.”
    She took hold of his tie and loosened it
before sliding his jacket down off his shoulders. Before he could
find words, she pressed herself to his neck and began kissing him
as she unbuttoned his shirt.
    “I want to get you out of that dress – in a
manner that is respectful to the dress’ feelings obviously -” he
felt her teeth graze his shoulder, a playful bite as punishment for
his wiseass comment. He let his hands fall at her hips and held
them steady despite the rising need to explore her. “- then I want
to put my mouth all over those gorgeous breasts of yours.”
    She unbuttoned his shirt, pulling the shirt
tails free of his trousers and was now pulling it down his bare
arms with a hint more desperation. When the shirt was halfway down
his arms, she pulled it taut, pinning his elbows to his sides.
    “How gorgeous, exactly?”
    “The most gorgeous and perfect pair I’ve
ever encountered.”
    “Correct answer.”
    He smiled. “I thought it might be.”
    She let the shirt fall to the floor before
pulling his undershirt up. Her movements grew more forceful,