She shivers when my hands skim her waist under her jersey. I’m not risking going another layer deeper, not yet. I need her to know I don’t simply want her naked, but it’s fucking hard. The urge to kiss every inch of her pale skin is as consuming as it is distracting.
When she moves my hand down between her legs and grinds on it, I almost make a mess in my dress pants. She’s eager, hungry, and not afraid to put me exactly where she needs me to be.
My needy little firecracker. Victoria dry humping the heel of my hand is the hottest thing I’ve ever fucking seen.
She’s chasing her orgasm, her breath coming in short bursts between our kisses. Heat from her core seeps through the fabric of her pants. She’s wet under these clothes. I’d bet she’s got a perfectly pink pussy dripping just for me. As though she’s reading my mind, she tugs my hand and shoves it into her panties, spreading her feet for balance and access.
A beautiful woman riding my hand in the parking lot wasn’t what I had on my bingo card for today, but I sure as hell am not complaining.
Her head tips back, and my lips trail sloppy kisses down the column of her neck as her phone rings. Without missing a beat, she pulls it from her pocket and answers it.
This fucking woman. She thinks she can get fingered by me and be lucid enough to talk on the phone?
Her pussy is soft, silky, and so fucking perfectly wet. As she’s speaking, I pinch her clit, and a small yelp escapes before she coughs to hide it.
She mutes her side of the call. “I will murder you.”
“Uh huh.” I mumble against her throat as I make my way down to nibble at her collar bone, fingers working against her clit. Her body bucks, her spine bending, her hips rolling as she chases release against my fingers. “We don’t take calls when we’re fucking around, Firecracker.”
The person on the other side of the line, who sounds like Eloise, is repeating Victoria’s name over and over. “Answer your friend, Victoria. You thought you could take a phone call, so take the call.”
CHAPTER 20
Victoria
Kissing Raffi in the parking lot after the game sounded like such a good idea at the time. Putting his hand in my pants and riding his very talented fingers—because I wanted to know if my memory had played tricks on me after all this time—felt like an even better idea.
At least until I started melting against him, trying to one-hand brace myself against his chest so I didn’t collapse on the ground while trying not to drop my phone. I was so cocky thinking that I could talk to Eloise and let him get me off at the same time.
Fuck.
I was very, very wrong.
“Eloise, I’m fine.”
“You don’t sound fine. Where are you? I’ll come and take you home, we can pick up your car tomorrow.”
Raffi’s teeth scrape down my clavicle, taking all the strength I have not to let out a feral moan. This man. One hand’s in my pants, fingers circling my clit like he’s right at home. The other’s up my shirt, thumb flicking over my nipplethrough my bra, driving me more and more furiously frustrated with need.
My legs tremble, threatening to buckle. Sweat prickles across my forehead as he looks up at me with nothing but smugness in his beautiful eyes.
The chemistry’s still here. And he’s every bit as skilled with his digits as I recall him being from our one night stand.
A low rattle bubbles in my throat.
“Tori?” Eloise’s concern would be touching, if I wasn’t seconds from bursting apart on Raffi’s fingers. Fuck.
“Eloise, I swear I’m okay. I’ll call you later.” I’m not proud of the fact I hang up on my friend, but if I didn’t, she’d hear me come, and we aren’t those kinds of friends.
“Much better,” Raffi announces with another pinch of my clit. “Do I have your full attention now?”
I want to claw his eyes out, but I’m too busy gripping his biceps so I don’t crumple onto the ground at his feet. People are leaving the rink, and I don’t want to call attention to the fact I’m getting fingered in a public space.
Is it possible he’s gotten better over the past three years? That’s not a thought I want to dwell on. The idea that he’s been with other women, improving his fingering game would make me white-hot with jealousy if I wasn’t hanging over the edge of an orgasm cliff. He’s controlling damn near every breath I take with just the movement in his fingers.
“Stop fighting me, Firecracker. Just come for me.” His words tickle the skin of my throat as he kisses his way up to my earlobe and bites down. The nip of pain pushes me over.
My forehead drops onto his shoulder, mouth open in a silent scream in the dim light. My teeth clamp onto the sliver of bare skin peeking out from his shirt, biting through the undulating pleasure charging through every cell in my body.
