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She’d never wanted a man like this. What the hell was up with it?
All he had to do was be in the room to make her crazy to have him touch her, and now it was just going to be a hundred times worse. As far as she was concerned, she simply didn’t deserve the torture.
She was aware of her fingers loosening, releasing the blankets beneath her and moving to her lower stomach. Aware of it, but helpless to stop it.
She had to get up in less than an hour, dress, and fix breakfast for a dozen guests who took the “breakfast” part of “bed-and-breakfast” very damned seriously. And that didn’t count the occasional friend of her mother’s who stopped by. When she entered the kitchen there could be more orders waiting than the ones Piper and her mother collected from the guests’ doors each morning.
Mercedes Mackay didn’t run the typical bed-and-breakfast. Along with the regular breakfast fare, guests could choose how their eggs were prepared or if they wanted no eggs at all. They could request toast over biscuits, grits over gravy. Each plate was prepared individually and brought out rather than all the food laid out on the table or a buffet set up.
Breathing out roughly, she let her fingers push beneath the thin camisole top she wore. Her other hand pushed beneath her shorts.
Her nipples were swollen tight, so sensitive she had to bite her lip to hold back a moan as she gripped one between her thumb and the side of her forefinger. Rolling it slowly, exerting enough pressure to make the little tip burn with sensation, she fought to breathe through the pleasure.
The fingers of her other hand pushed beneath the elastic of her panties, sliding over the small area of curls that covered just the top of her mound before pushing further between her thighs to find the saturated folds of her pussy.
She was so wet, so sensitive and swollen that her own touch sent a rush of tingling sensation sizzling through her womb. Capturing her swollen, throbbing clit between her thumb and forefinger, careful to keep the hood covering her clitoris between it and her fingers, she began to work the swollen bud slowly, gently.
A whimper slipped past her lips as her hips lifted involuntarily, jerking beneath her own touch as she imagined Brogan’s fingers there.
His touch would be firmer.
Tightening her grip on the tender bundle of nerves, feeling her pussy clench and weep in need, she caressed it slowly.
She wanted to push her fingers lower.
Simply stimulating her clit didn’t satisfy her anymore. Once she found her release, her inner flesh still pulsed and ached, demanding penetration. Demanding something she’d never allowed herself. Because the clitoral stimulation had been enough—
Until Brogan.
Arching her head back, she rolled her hips beneath her touch, sparks of heated pleasure rushing through the swollen knot of nerves as the stimulation worked her clit closer to release.
“Oh, yes,” she whispered.
She closed her eyes, keeping in her mind the image of Brogan bending over her, his hand between her thighs, his fingers working her clit, stroking her ever closer as his lips surrounded her nipple. He would suck it firmly, she decided. Hungrily. He would draw it in with a demand that refused to allow a protest.
Not that she would want to protest. She wouldn’t.
She would hold him to her, feel his tongue lashing at her nipple as his fingers worked her ever closer to release. He’d have no mercy. He’d push her hard, then hold her back, make her beg for ecstasy.
A moan slipped past her lips before she could catch it. She was rife with desperation and ever-increasing need, and the sound reminded her that the burning demand was only growing.
“Yes,” she whimpered again. “Oh, yes. ”
She was close. So close she could feel the burning flames beginning to pulse and rage, the whipping sensations surging through her clit, building.
She was only seconds away.
A heartbeat—
The harsh blasting ring of her cell phone had her jerking, shock pulling her fingers from between her thighs before she could
stop herself, cutting her release off as it had just begun to build.
Gritting her teeth, a strangled cry of frustration escaping her lips, she jerked the phone from the table next to her bed without checking the caller and connected it with a frustrated flick of her finger.
“Do you know what time it is?” she snapped at the intruder. It was too damned early for anyone important.
“If I hear one more of those little moans”—Brogan’s low growl shocked her into disbelief—“then I swear I’m going to pick the lock on your door, come in, and fuck you until you can’t move. Until it’s all either of us can do to breathe, let alone mowing the grass as I’m supposed to later, or to help your sister cook breakfast for a houseful of guests. Are we clear here?”
