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At the moment however, I couldn’t bring myself to care.
He looked serious as he stared down at me. Very slowly he lowered his mouth to my chest and started working my nipples into his mouth. Sucking hard and flicking the hard point of his tongue against them. Back and forth he went, driving me absolutely crazy with desire.
I groaned, trying to rock my pussy against his hand. But he didn’t increase the pressure or even grind into me like he had before. Finally he lifted his head and stared down at me.
“I’m going to stop touching you now. So you know how I feel. So you can lie awake tonight and feel like your bed is on fire from wanting me. And the next time I touch you, you’re going to beg me.”
He leaned in, his breath fanning my neck.
“You’re going to beg me not to stop.”
“Please Clay… don’t…”
He smiled at me then.
“I want you to be sure, Nev. I want you to want me as bad as I want you.”
He lifted his hand away and stared down at me.
“I know exactly how this feels, Nev. It’s how I feel all the time. Fucking empty.”
He leaned down and kissed my forehead.
“You can sleep here if you want. I’m going to the pool house.”
I inhaled sharply as he pulled his shirt on. He opened a drawer and pulled out a fresh bottle of bourbon. He must have sobered up by now.
For a moment, I wondered what made him so tortured that he drank like that all the time. And then I felt my body crying out for his touch. I curled into a ball, shivers tearing through me.
He’d left me.
He’d aroused me beyond belief and then he’d left me.
Now I was in his bed, naked.
OH MY GOD. I was in his bed naked. Anyone could walk in on me.
How are you going to explain this to mom, girl?
I sat up and looked around for my clothes. I found my shorts and my top and bra. I slipped them on, tearing the bed apart but finding nothing. Frantically making sure I hadn’t left behind proof for the maids to find.
After all, I knew every fucking one of them. They all reported to my mother. That would be perfect.
‘Miss Jones, we found your daughter’s panties in Clay Westfield’s bed.’
Not that they’d know they were mine, I thought, trying to be reasonable. But still, there would be gossip about Clay banging girls in the house. And if my mother saw the undies, she would know instantly they were mine. The thought was horrifying enough to send me into a state of utter fucking panic.
I crept down the hallway and down the stairs, terrified that someone would see me. But it was late enough and luck was on my side. I went down to the kitchen and slipped out the back door. Then I ran along the manicured pathways to the other side of the estate.
It was only later, after I’d showered and crawled into bed, still craving his touch that I realized what had happened.
While Clay was toying with me, bringing me to the edge over and over again he’d done something so sneaky that it blew my mind.
He’d stolen my panties.
Chapter Twenty-One
Clay
I woke up in the pool house, momentarily confused about where I was. My mind was blank for a minute. And then I remembered.
Nevada.
In my bed.
Naked and turned on and I’d what – had a crisis of conscience?
My throbbing balls told me all I needed to know about how that had ended.
Moron.
Idiot.
Traitor.
If the guys could see me now… they would laugh their asses off.
I rolled over and stared out the window. No one was at the pool. Good. I needed a cold splash of water to refresh me. And to take down my dick, which had roused immediately on waking.
Hell, there was a very good chance I had slept with a hard on. I pretty much had permaboner, thanks to Nev. And I didn’t see that changing anytime soon.
Maybe not ever.
Just remembering the look and feel and taste of her was enough.
Fuck.
I hadn’t fucked her.
I knew why. It’s because I cared. I would never have not fucked such a willing, hot and sexy girl in my life. Not as sexy as Nev. Not that I’d really ever encountered anyone like her before.
There wasn’t anyone like her in the whole world.
No one as hot. No one as fucking hilarious. No one as fucking noble.
That was it. I couldn’t fucking take a chance of her because her morals were so clear that they challenged mine.
Double fuck.
I had to have her or I’d never get her out of my mind. I didn’t want to be dreaming about her when I was fucking forty. Not unless she was sleeping next to me.
I’d left her in a state of frustration so she should be as messed up as me today. Or not. Maybe girls could control that. Maybe she had a vibrator. Who the fuck knew.
