Page 49 of Body Check

eighteen

. . .

Amelia

Holy fuck, McKittrick can kiss. I thought I knew what he could do after our encounter the other day, but this kiss… it’s electric. Heat simmers in my veins, just beneath the surface. His tight grip on my ponytail doesn’t give me an inch, and as his other hand skates over my curves, I start to tremble. I want him so fucking badly, it almost hurts.

His fingers trail over the crease of my hip, and then between my legs. When he feels the slickness there, his lips curve into a smirk against mine.

“Shut up,” I murmur into the kiss.

“I didn’t say anything,” he says, before driving two fingers inside me.

My eyes flutter shut, sensory overload overwhelming my system. It takes a second for my brain to come back online, and every time he thrusts his fingers into me, little zaps of pleasure fry my brain. All of my synapses are firing at full speed and then some, flooding my bloodstream with pleasure.

I’m forced to break the kiss, burying my face in his neck and breathing in his woodsy scent. The scrape of his scruff against my cheek grounds me, offering me a lifeline.

When his thumb brushes my clit, I clench around him, and he lets out a dark chuckle.

“Feel good?” he murmurs, his face buried in my hair.

“Shut up,” I say again.

“Talk to me. Tell me how you’re feeling.” He strums my clit, knowing exactly how to play my body.

“Can’t. Talk.”

“Oh? Should I stop?” He pulls his fingers free, and I whine, grabbing for his hand and dragging his fingers back to where I want them. He runs them through my folds, withholding what I need most.

“Close.”

“Tell me what you need.”

“I need you to touch me.” Breathing hard, I force myself upright. I’m so worked up, I’m almost dizzy. “I need your fingers inside me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” McKittrick says, a smirk on his lips. I want to slap it off.

But I’m not about non-consensual spanking, so I settle for kissing it away.

His fingers thrust inside me, curling until they find the spot that drives me crazy. I clench around him, grinding my clit against the palm of his hand.

My breaths come faster now, and when he bites at my lips and then soothes the sting with his tongue, I moan.

“Say my name.”

“Mc—”

He shakes his head. “Say my name, Amelia.”

“Jason.”

“Again.”

“Jason.”

“Good girl.”

Something inside me lights up at his praise. I want to be a good girl. I want to be his good girl.