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“Did you call for me?”
I die. Right there in the middle of my king-sized bed with my legs spread wide, panties pulled to the side, I fucking die.
“Jesus,” he whispers, not making a move to back out and give me some privacy.
Why am I not screaming? Why am I not yelling for him to leave me alone while pulling my comforter over my body? Why do I lick my lips and start running slow circles over my clit?
The answer to all of that is because of the way he’s looking at me, glazed eyes, bulge growing in his loose lounge pants. Has he ever looked at me like this before?
I don’t think so, because if I saw desire like that in his eyes, I would’ve offered myself up on one of the silver platters Mother keeps in the china cabinet for guests.
“I didn’t call for you,” I whisper, somehow finding a part of me I’ve never seen before.
This part, this woman in this bed has never done anything like this before in her life. Ever.
Seduction is easy. It can be managed with tight clothes, the sight of my tits, or even just the brush of my hand. Until Flynn, I thought men were easy to manipulate. It’s looking like he takes just a little more effort, but as my fingers continue their torturous circles, I realize I don’t want to torture him, I just want him.
“I moaned for you.”
“Are you imagining it’s me touching you?”
I shake my head. “Come closer.”
I want his mouth on mine, his hands all over me. I want him to sink inside of me so hard I gasp and beg for mercy.
He stands stock still, only a foot inside of the doorway, unmoving, his eyes glued to the action of my hand.
“What am I doing in this fantasy if I’m not touching you?”
“You’re,” I lick at my dry lips, “watching me. Telling me what to do.”
He groans, moving for the first time to give his hard dick a punishing squeeze over the top of his pants.
“Like, use both hands and spread that pretty pussy wider?”
My teeth dig into my lower lip as my head nods. My hands obey him, spreading myself open.
“So pink,” he whispers with reverence. “So fucking wet.”
My hands begin to tremble both in anticipation and need because my touch isn’t where my body demands it to be.
“Lift your legs higher, naughty girl. Let me see both of your holes.”
How fucking crude and debasing. He groans again when I comply without question.
“Finish what you started, gorgeous. Make that perfect pussy come for me.”
I keep my eyes on him as long as I can, watching his face while he watches my working fingers, but when that ball of fire in my stomach travels lower and explodes, pulsing out the best orgasm I’ve ever had in my life, they flutter closed.
After several gasping breaths and formulating the words I plan to use to beg him to join me on the bed, I reopen them. My doorway is empty, and he’s gone. Almost like he was never there in the first place.Chapter 17Flynn
I fucked up.
I fucked up.
I fucked up.
The words play over and over in my head as I pace back and forth in my room. If I keep this up, I’m going to wear a hole in the damn overpriced plush carpet. But it’s not like the Blairs don’t have the funds to replace it.
I’ve done a lot of stuff in my life. I’m no novice when it comes to spending time in the bedroom, but I can’t recall a single thing more erotic than what I just witnessed. Remington coming on her fingers while I stood watching? Best thing to ever happen to me.
With a harsh hand, I smack my forehead. Not the best. I have to pretend it didn’t even happen.
Never happened.
Never happened.
That’s my new motto.
Thinking about it would only lead to me going right back in there.
I ignore my erection, ignore the scent of her filling that damn room, and ignore the incessant urge to go back in there and make her come again.
I didn’t want to touch her—I mean I did, but it didn’t seem right at the moment—didn’t want to make things more awkward between us than they were after I kissed her lips. But I don’t think things could get any worse. Hell, the only thing left is knowing what she looks like coming with my cock inside of her.
Just picturing it in my mind makes me groan.
“Didn’t happen,” I hiss out loud, knowing I have to convince myself.
I’ve got one foot metaphorically inside her fucking bedroom already, two fingers inside the pinkest pussy I’ve ever seen before in my life—or maybe my tongue. There’s no doubt that she’d taste amazing. The way her fingers glistened, the way her core pulsed so hard, I could see the movement across the room.
