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“Last night,” he admits. “Or, this morning, I guess. After our talk on the balcony. Those fucking shorts of yours drive me insane, Maven.”
“You know I’m not going to apologize.”
“Of course you aren’t. God damn, sunshine. Your tits are incredible. I bet they’d bounce when I fucked you, wouldn’t they? They’d look nice and pretty when I covered them with my come.”
It’s my turn to groan. I imagine being on my knees in front of him, my mouth open and his come all over my body. His fingers running down my throat and across my chest. “I’d let you do that, Dallas. I’d let you do anything to me.”
“Anything? You’d let me fuck every hole of yours? Make them mine? Ruin you so much that you couldn’t walk in a straight line at a game while millions of people were watching? I might be a little out of practice, but I still know how to fuck you like you deserve.”
I nod feebly. I thought I was going to be the one controlling this, but I guess not. I reach for the toy and click it on, getting used to the vibrations.
“All of me,” I say. “It’s all yours.”
I bring the toy down my stomach. Dallas’s right hand disappears, and I hope he’s touching himself.
“Go slow,” he demands, and his voice is thick with lust. “It’s been a while, and I want to enjoy this. Enjoy you. Too fast and it’ll be over in a second.”
“I’ll go slow.” I drag the vibrator up my thigh and over the front of my shorts. “As slow as you want.”
I touch my clit for the first time, and I jolt forward. The intensity is mind-shattering. Even on the lowest speed, I see stars. There behind the fragmented colors and the precipice of bliss are images of Dallas.
Him, on his knees, beggingplease. His mouth on my neck and his heart in my hands. Shimmering, twinkling dark brown eyes and a smile that makes me weak.
“Look at you. You’re fucking drenched for me,” he says like a prayer.
“You sure this is for you, hot shot?” I smirk, and begin to move my hand in a slow circle.
His breathing hitches when my back arches off the mattress, and I bring my chin down to look in the camera. The intensity behind his gaze is so ferocious, I can feel it three thousand miles away.
“I dare it to be for someone else, Maven,” he says. “We both know you bought that toy so you could touch yourself while you thought about me.”
THIRTY
DALLAS
I’m goingcross-eyed from looking at my phone screen, but I’m afraid to blink. I don’t want to miss a second of watching Maven fucking Wood touch herself.
Fucking hell.
She’s the hottest woman I’ve ever seen.
I’m obsessed with her body when she has clothes on, and seeing her like this—half naked and letting out soft sighs—firmly cements the thought in my useless brain.
Her tits are incredible, and every time she arches her back off the bed and finds a spot on her body she really likes, it makes me want to bite the soft skin of her chest. It makes me want to take one of her nipples in my mouth and suck until she’s squirming under me and begging for more.
Her pajama shorts—that goddamn scrap of fabric that haunts my dreams—keep getting wetter and wetter. The cotton is practically translucent, and I can see her sharp hip bones and the outline of her pussy through the material.
She’s teasing herself, taking her time as she runs the vibrator up her body then back down. Every flick of her wrist that brings her hand back between her legs makes the spot a little damper.
Responsive.
I want that wetness on my mouth. On my tongue and covering my hands. I can’t wait to get home on Sunday and smell the scents she left behind. They’ll be a reminder that I might not be next to her, coaxing the orgasm out of her myself, but at least I had some sort of role in her pleasure.
“Tell me the truth, Maven. Who do you think about when you use your toy?”
“You,” she whines, and smug possessiveness pulses through me. “Of course I think about you. I wish you were touching me right now.”
“So do I, pretty girl,” I rasp, one hand around my dick. I’ve never been this hard in my life and I give myself a few quick strokes, dangerously close to blowing a load. “I’d make you feel good.”
