Page 118 of End Game

“You took me?”

Her eyes narrow.

“Ask,” I say again and then wait.

Eventually, she huffs, “Please.”

I grin. “See? Personal growth.”

“I’m going to murder you.”

“After.”

My lips are back on hers. My tongue warring with hers.

It’s only a minute before all of our clothes are gone.

“I want to recreate something,” I suggest.

“Oookay?” she asks hesitantly.

Then I position her, just like the very first time I ever had her in my bed.

Only then, all the clothes stay on.

My hand slides down between her thighs.

Soon, I have two fingers deep inside her while my thumb works her clit.

Her eyes tell me she remembers. Remembers being edged within an inch of her life.

And I absolutely plan on doing it again.

She almost gets there four times when I stop.

“I hate you,” she whines.

Sure she does.

Her hips are writhing and chasing my fingers. My hand.

Exhibit A, Your Honor.

Then, I do allow it.

Her body arches, her walls tighten around my fingers, and my mouth lands on hers as I swallow her scream.

As soon as her body settles, I move her again and settle between her thighs.

I’m determined to taste her, to lick up all that sweet fluid that was leaking all over my hand.

My tongue is inside her, and fuck, I need more.

Looking up over her sweat-slick skin, I find her eyes and ask, “Can I try something?”

Cami immediately looks suspicious. “Those are historically dangerous words from you.”

“They’re also historically fun words.” I waggle my eyebrows.