Page 102 of The Has-Been

I look up through tear-blurred vision, tilting them up over my eyelashes from where he gazes down at me.

Fuck, I wish I hadn’t.

He looks like a wet fucking dream.

My hand searches, trying to find that bundle of nerves between my legs, but I barely reach for contact before Liam pulls himself free of my mouth and grasps my arms, stopping me.

I’m desperate for him to touch me, for the sensation building at my center to be released, to tremble throughout me.

So I lift myself from the floor, turning away from him. I stop myself from looking behind my shoulder as I move across the cabin’s expansive living room, the vaulted ceilings making the entranceway seem more like a palace than a cabin.

I don’t navigate myself down the hall, hoping that he follows me.

No. No, I’m far too desperate to be touched.

Even the few steps it would take to reach my bedroom seem like an impossible distance for me to cross.

Instead, I stop by the expansive kitchen island, the cool marble chilling my already winter-frozen skin.

But I’m burning from the inside out, and I know it won’t be long before I’ll be ignited with warmth.

I sit my bare bottom on the surface, my legs dangling over the counter as I turn to face Liam.

He’s still by that damn door—cock gripped between his fingers as he strokes himself—watching me. And I quickly decide that the distance won’t do.

So, I follow his suit, curling my finger at him.

His bottom half is exposed, but his shoulders and chest are still covered, the delicate fabric of his suit hiding his muscular form from me.

Liam’s steps falter as I motion for him to finish undressing.

I can see his eyes dance with amusement, desperately holding back a laugh. But he stifles it. His fingers move like lightning across the bottom of his snow-sodden jacket.

I think watching him undo each button might be the hottest thing I’ve ever witnessed. I spread my legs, his gaze going hungry as he shrugs out of his jacket.

My fingers reach for my sex, and I buck from the connection I’m so desperate for. My fingers instantly become slick as they rub my aching center, my eyes never leaving Liam as he watches me touch myself.

When he’s finally undressed, he cuts the distance to me with only two long strides, his powerful thighs making it far too easy to get to me.

His large hands wrap around my spread thighs and yank me toward him. I gasp, thinking he’s about to pull me from the ledge, but he situates me right at the edge. He uses his palms to spread me open further, the muscles of my inner thighs stretching and screaming with pure delight.

I don’t think I’ve appreciated Liam’s height as much as I have at this moment, as he moves to his knees, tall enough to reach me from where I’m elevated before him.

There are no playful strokes, no testing to see if I’m wet and ready.

He damn well knows.

A finger enters me, and I gasp, my hand finding his hair, the strands just long enough for me to hold onto. Liam withdraws, instead using his thumb to rub over my swollen clit.

I’m not going to last but three fucking seconds.

His thumb disappears, and I nearly beg for him to replace it, but Liam eyes me from his position on the floor, and I snap my mouth closed in silence. He doesn’t make me wait long, placing his palm over my center as he rises back to his feet and gently spanks my sex. I suck in breath, the element of surprise adding to my arousal. He does it again as he grins wildly, as it makes a loud, wet slap. Then he leans into me as he slowly slips two fingers inside me, causing my hips to buckle. He works me in a rhythm that comes so easily to him.

I start shaking. Not from the cold or wet of the winter we just escaped from. No, because Liam is seconds away from giving me the hardest fucking orgasm of my life.

A sharp sensation spikes through me. I slam my eyes closed, reading myself for the high about to ripple through me.

But Liam stops. Pulls me from the counter.