My sleep shorts are down around my ankles. His mouth is hot through the thin fabric of my panties. The strap of the fabric digs into my hips.
“I’m the one playing games? After you dated other men?”
“You and I are not dating!” I shriek.
His hand is on my throat, and I’m pressed back against the couch.
“You let them give you jewelry.”
“An engagement ring isn’t jewelry.”
“But you complain when I want to keep you safe here with me and refuse”—his fingers slide into my mouth, the weight of them on my tongue somehow doing more than his mouth between my legs—“anything I try to give you.”
“I took those books,” I try to say around his fingers.
“You didn’t read those. If you had”—his hands are hard on my tits—“then you would have thrown yourself at me.”
“You’re a walking tornado of red flags and concerning behavior.”
Gray eyes flick to my mouth. He presses his thumb against my lower teeth, opening my mouth. “And you want it bad.”
34
JENNA
There’s something unsettling in his eyes.
“Do you think I’m dangerous?”
My thin tank top is pushed up as he bites and kisses his way down to my panties.
“You should. I’m fucking obsessed with you.”
I pull at my tank top, wanting to bank the heat coming off of him.
“I’m going to show you.” He grabs my hand, forcing my own fingers under the band of my lace panties. “I’m the one you should have been afraid of this whole time. Congratulations, Jenna.”
I whimper as my own fingers, guided by his, rub my clit.
“You win. You’ve made me crazy, taken over my whole life, ruined my mind, so the only thing I think of is you.”
“That sounds like a personal problem,” I croak, trying to will my hips not to grind against my hand.
He watches the way my lower body shudders.
My legs splay; my hips ache with need.
He forces my other hand into my panties, my nails catching on the fabric. Even when I was at my horniest, I’d never gotten myself off with two hands.
Hand on my neck, he pins me back against the couch, my knees in the air. When I try to untangle my hands, he grabs my jaw, shaking my head roughly.
“Keep going.”
My panties are soaked. The pink fabric of the shorts is dark burgundy at the crotch from the juices leaking out of my pussy.
McCarthy leans over me, one hand between my legs, guiding my fingers into my pussy. The other hand still on my jaw, he tips my head back. “You like fucking yourself? Like making yourself wet thinking about my cockthere?”
“Please.” I whimper. My jaw aches from where his fingers press against it.
