Love In London: A Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance Read online

  Which means it must have disappeared completely. Probably the moment I told him I was a virgin.

  I’ve ruined everything.

  I’m so disappointed in myself that I can barely concentrate on what the tour guide is saying as we walk down the hall. He’s explaining the purpose of the building and what goes on there, but I can’t concentrate. I’ve made such an idiot of myself. Not just in front of Oz, which I never expected to go anywhere anyway, but in front of my potential future classmates as well.

  Imagine if we do end up in the same classes. How will they look at me? They’ll probably tell everyone about what happened, and it will follow me everywhere I go. Like being in high school all over again, where one stupid rumor can ruin your whole year.

  I thought I was getting away from all of that. But what if I’m not? What if I just ruined my chances of having a good start here?

  I trail along after the tour feeling miserable the whole way around. Oz was right – once we leave that first building, the rest of the facilities seem much newer. There’s a lot that sounds interesting and even exciting, but I can’t bring myself to get hyped up about it. I can’t even think of any questions I want to ask, not even when the tour guide keeps prompting us to ask him whatever we want to know. It’s like everyone else is having the tour, and I’m just being forced to stand with them.

  We’re getting closer to the end of the tour – and my humiliation, I hope – as we pass into another building that looks a little older. Not quite as antiquated as the first one, but it’s definitely been here for a while, although a lot of the furnishings inside seem new. The tour guide is explaining loudly to the group, his back to us as he walks, about how the college has put a lot of money into keeping the equipment and rooms upgraded so that everyone can enjoy the level of education they deserve.

  And I nearly cry out in surprise when Oz grabs my hand and pulls me to the side so forcefully, I almost fall over.

  I do stumble, but I find myself landing in something hard and soft at the same time – and in complete darkness.

  What?

  Okay. It takes me a moment, but my scrambled brain puts a few things together. One, the thing I stumbled into is Oz himself, his body catching my weight fully. Which leaves us pressed up against each other again in some kind of awful parody of what we were doing earlier.

  And two, the darkness is because we’re now in another room off to the side of the hall we were in before, and Oz has closed the door.

  As my eyes quickly adjust, I realize it’s not that dark in here after all. There’s enough light spilling through the cracks in the door that I can see Oz’s face, even if dimly. But then again, it is just inches away from mine.

  I draw a breath and move back, righting myself back on my own two feet. I reach out to the side without looking and hit my arm on something – a shelf, I see when I turn and look. A shelf full of cleaning products.

  We’re in a janitor’s closet.

  “What are you doing?” I whisper because I have no idea why he dragged me in here or why Oz is looking at me with a glimmer of a smile playing on his lips.

  “I remembered this cupboard from when I was a student here,” he says, keeping his voice just as quiet as mine. “I can’t believe it’s still in use. Lucky me, though.”

  “What?” I say, still feeling like I’m trying to catch up. “Why are we in a closet?”

  He snickers lightly, and we’re still so close that I feel his breath stirring the hair that hangs beside my face. Then his fingers come up to brush it aside, and I feel myself shiver. “I couldn’t wait any longer.”

  “For what?”

  “For this,” he says, ducking his head and pressing his lips to mine, soft and gentle this time. But then he does it again, and his mouth opens and teases mine to do the same, and I feel a searing heat move through my whole body as the kiss deepens.

  “Wait,” I say, confused as hell and with shaking knees as he draws back slightly. “Aren’t you…”

  “What?” he asks.

  “I don’t know,” I say, struggling to find the words. “What I told you. Didn’t it… put you off?”

  “Put me off?” Oz repeats, frowning. Then his expression clears slightly and he laughs again, quietly, both of us trying not to be heard by anyone passing through the hall. “No, Gabby. I’ve been trying to look for an opportunity to get you to myself again ever since those people barged in. It couldn’t have happened at a worse possible time.”

  “I thought…” I close my eyes for a moment. “I thought you were disgusted with me. That you didn’t want to…”

  “I was just trying to stay calm and keep it respectful in front of the rest of the tour,” Oz whispers, nuzzling my neck. “I didn’t want to ruin your first impression of this place. Or theirs of you.”

  “I think that ship might have sailed,” I whisper back, closing my eyes again as he kisses me once more, making my knees go weak. “So… you want to? Here? Now?”

  He pulls back and shoots me a horrified look. Did I just completely misunderstand, or…?

  “You really think I would let you have your first time in a cupboard?” he asks, his words incredulous even in his quiet tone. “I think you ought to know me better than that already.”

  “Well, then…?” I say helplessly. I really don’t get what we’re doing in this closet, if not…

  “I still want to,” he clarifies. “Oh, dear God, do I want to. But it has to be special – for you. It has to be something you remember for the rest of your life.”

  “I think I would,” I say. It would be a bit of a story to tell, wouldn’t it? Sex in a closet in the middle of a campus tour?

  “No,” he whispers, his kisses running down my neck again, making me gasp. “I mean, really special.”

  “Then what are we doing here?” I ask.

  He looks up at me, quirking an eyebrow. “Giving you a little taste of what to expect,” he whispers – before whirling me around, pressing my back up against the shelves at the back of the closet, and dropping to his knees.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Oz

  I love to see her face, to watch her eyes narrow and close with pleasure and then open wide with surprise when I drop to my knees in front of her. She’s so beautiful, I could stare at her forever.

  But I won’t – because I want to make that look come over her face again. And I won’t achieve that by sitting around and doing nothing. I’ll achieve it by putting in the work to make it happen.

  I set my hands to the sides of her knees and then slowly slide them up her thighs, watching her in the near darkness. I can only see a little of her face in the slim light that comes through the door, but what I can see entices me. The way she looks at me with an open question, a vulnerability, and yet with trust.

  Somehow, she knows that I won’t hurt her or do anything she won’t enjoy. And that trust is something I want to repay in spades. She’ll know that she’s with the right man, that I’m the right one to take her virginity and claim her.

  And I can’t wait to see how she tastes.

  My hands slide all the way under her dress, lifting it up out of the way, revealing her panties. They’re white lace, dainty and delicate and feminine, and so perfectly suited to her that I’m not at all surprised. I glance up again and see her biting her lip, a look of combined confusion and expectation. She doesn’t know what I’m planning. She’s so innocent it almost breaks my heart. It’s almost a shame she can’t stay that way – but I’d much rather see her roll her eyes in pleasure and scream my name until she goes hoarse.

  Maybe not today, though. That might attract a bit of unwanted attention to our hideaway.

  I stroke my fingertips lightly across the hem of her panties, and see how she shudders involuntarily. I check up on her face again, see that lip between her teeth one more time, and read her expression. It’s not fear or revulsion that makes her shudder, but excitement. Anticipation. She wants this just as much as I do.

  No, not
just as much. Because that can’t be possible. I don’t know if anyone in the world has ever wanted anything this strongly.

  I trace my fingertips back again just to see her shudder one more time, then hook them into the waistband of her panties. I only hesitate for a moment before beginning to move, pulling them down, down, ever so slowly, revealing a millimeter of skin at a time.

  Her skin is so soft and warm under my fingertips, so perfect. I ghost those fingers down over her thighs and the panties come with them, revealing her pussy before me. Even in the dim light, I can see enough of her to know she is as gorgeous everywhere as I imagined. I drag the panties down to the floor, kissing the inside of her knees as I go, nudging her legs a little further apart after lifting one of her feet to disentangle the panties from around them.

  Then I straighten again from my kneeling position, and the anticipation is so much I can barely keep myself steady. It’s not only myself that I’m thinking of, but her – and the thought of her pleasure turns me on so much it’s almost painful. I want to make her glow from within, want to feel the heat and desire taking over her body. I want to know that I’m the one to satisfy her every need.

  I run my hands slowly up the sides of her legs again, seeing how she shudders one more time. She moves her legs, almost closing them again, but I shake my head as I look up at her and push them apart gently. She makes the tiniest sound in the back of her throat as my hands reach her hips, lifting her dress again, unveiling her once more. Like anticipation and nerves and uncertainty, but when I pause for a second to study her, she doesn’t tell me to stop. She doesn’t move to cover herself again.

  I know she still wants this.

  I move my hands first, tracing them lower and lower until finally I stop teasing and brush over the hot dampness of her slit, my fingers already coming away sticky. She whimpers again, this time a more throaty sound, of need and lust and readiness. I want to tell her to keep quiet, to avoid the risk of being found. But on the other hand, I want her to make all the noise she likes. I want to hear her, hear what I make her feel. How she can’t hold back.

  I’m gentle and careful in my approach, landing kisses on the inside of her thighs and brushing my fingers across her heat, never too much at once, easing her into this gently. I know that all of this is new to her. I don’t want to overwhelm her – I want her to enjoy every stage, the whole slow build-up.

  The longer we linger here, the more chance we’ll get caught. But that only adds to the excitement. And if we are, well – they won’t see much.

  They won’t see much, because my head’s going to be under her skirt. I duck under it, letting it cover me, planting kisses closer and closer to her soaked pussy. Her hands clutch at my shoulders for support, even though she’s leaning back against the shelves.

  And when my tongue flicks out to lap at her hole for the first time, those hands clench into fists in the fabric of my shirt.

  I taste her then for the first time, take in the full fragrance of her, so sweet and enticing. Like I knew she would be. There’s no other thing in the world to compare it to, like a fruit that ripened only for me, never for anyone else. I lap at her again, stronger now, flicking my tongue back and forth across her bud until I find the spots that make her gasp for breath and hold me even tighter.

  Her knees begin to bend, to buckle against me slightly, and I hear a shift of things moving behind her where she leans on them. I reach up to steady and brace her, holding her by the hips so she won’t fall, letting her lean on me too. I hear her breathing changing the more I work her over, from long breaths to short pants, from barely audible to loud enough I wonder if we’ll be heard. Every now and then she makes a quiet sound – “ah, ah,” in the back of her throat – that makes me redouble my efforts on those spots.

  She’s wet beneath me, and not just because of the lubrication of my tongue. She’s trembling, everything in her whole body and mind tuned to this one point of pleasure, to the nerves that I know must be tingling and responding to everything I do. She’s so delicious, in so many different ways. The pressure of her hands on my shirt increases as the pleasure does, and I take pride in bringing her to the edge, holding her there, making her shake and gasp and moan.

  Moan?

  Maybe that one was a little loud.

  But I can’t wait any longer. As much as I would like to draw this out, I need to finish it before we get caught. I find that one spot that made her moan before and swirl my tongue around it again, faster, faster, faster–

  She cries out a full moan as she comes, her whole body tensing and jerking under my hands, her sex flooding me with her juices and exploding on my tongue. I angle it inside for one last taste, one feel of those muscles tightening around me rhythmically, and then I move away. I get to my feet fast, knowing there’s a good chance someone will have heard us. I wait, tense, but no one comes.

  I watch her face, how her eyes slowly open again, how she blinks a few times like a newborn foal coming out into the world. Unsteady on her legs. How a glow seems to suffuse her now, making her flushed and contented.

  Beautiful.

  I lean down to kiss her, more chaste this time because if I do anything more we might never leave this place. “Good enough to keep you going until tomorrow?” I ask.

  “Yes,” she murmurs breathily – just that – like she can’t manage to bring herself to say anything more sensible.

  I chuckle in her ear, then take her hand. Turning, I press my eye to the tiny crack in the doorframe and look through it, seeing as much as I can. The corridor appears to be clear, at least as much as I can make out.

  We steal out into the hall and then out – passing a bemused tour guide at the entrance, waiting for his next group, before bursting out into laughter further down the street.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Gabby

  “His face, though,” I say, shaking my head. I still can’t believe it all really happened. Somehow, talking about it again makes it more real. Like if I say it out loud and Oz agrees with me, it must have actually happened to both of us and not just in my imagination.

  “I’m sure he’s going to see worse – or get up to worse, himself,” Oz grinned. “He’s a university student, after all.”

  That brings me down towards earth a little more. I wonder if all students are like that. If Oz expects that I should be like that. He already knows I’m a virgin now, which is one thing out of the way, but…

  “Your main courses,” the waiter says, interrupting us and making me jump. I didn’t even see him walking over to our table. I guess I was too wrapped up in the conversation – and in my own nerves.

  Part of me thinks we should just do this thing now. Because if we don’t, maybe overnight he’ll realize how young I am and how I’m not at all right for him.

  I wish I could shake these fears, but they just keep coming back. Because I’m so much younger than him. Because I’m so inexperienced. Because… Well, because, just look at him. After the way he made me feel earlier, I can’t imagine that he doesn’t have a line of women coming out of his door every morning just wanting to get to know him better.

  And what possible competition could I be?

  “This looks delicious,” Oz says, breaking me out of my thoughts again. I manage to smile and nod, picking up my knife and fork.

  “It does,” I say, with some relief. I’m glad I managed to convince him to come to a bit less of an upscale place. It doesn’t make me feel as bad that he’s paying for everything – though I still feel bad. But he wouldn’t hear of me using my vacation money to pay for dinner, even when I pointed out that I saved a day’s meal yesterday.

  “Not as delicious as you, though,” Oz says, putting the first bite of food in his mouth and chewing it through a roguish smile.

  I almost dropped my knife and fork.

  He laughed at me once he’d swallowed his bite, reaching over to brush his fingers over the back of my hand and then going back to his food. It was such a familiar gesture, a
loving touch, the kind of thing I hadn’t at all expected. It was intimate. It made my breath catch in my throat. I start to eat my meal slowly, praying for my heart rate to return to normal at some point so I didn’t feel so much like I was going to die.

  Of happiness, probably.

  “What are we doing after this?” I ask, just to try and return the conversation to something normal. Well, okay, not normal. Because the question, and the meaning behind it, has my heart racing in a new way. Like I have no control over anything in my body anymore. The thought of spending more time with him – of going to bed with him – almost makes me want to explode.

  “I’ll take you back to your hotel,” he says, with a gleam in his eye. “And then I’ll head home.”

  I pout slightly, finishing off my bite of food before I answer. It’s good, just like he said. Maybe not as good as Marco’s food, but given that it was the best I’ve ever tasted, it’s kind of to be expected. “Alone?”

  “Yes, alone,” he says, half-laughing. “Who else would I be going back with?”

  “Well...” I start, about to offer myself up as a prime example.

  “Don’t finish that sentence,” he says, his voice a low growl that catches me by surprise. “I’m trying to be good. You’re going to tempt me.”

  “Why isn’t that good?” I ask. “Why not tonight?”

  “I told you,” he says. “I want to make it special for you. That means tomorrow, we make it special.”

  “I have a tour in the morning,” I protest.

  “I know, I know,” he says. “But after your tour in the morning – which I’m going to come with you for, by the way – we can do something else.”

  I raise my eyebrows at him. “Something something?”

  “A surprise something,” he says, rolling his eyes but still grinning. “I mean it. It’s going to be the most memorable night of your life. And that starts earlier on in the day. We have to build up to it. I’m taking this very seriously. It’s my duty to make sure your first experience is everything it should be – and more.”