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“You sure about this?” I rasped, knowing that, if we did this, there was no turning back.
“What. Do. You. Need?” Her head rested against the back of the couch, her hazy eyes sleepy yet alert.
Holy fucking shit.
She gazed at me through heavy eyelids. Devouring every inch of my skin. There was no questioning her intentions.
Fuck it. I was all in.
“Touch your tits for me,” I demanded, waiting on bated breath to see if she did as I asked.
A devilish grin spread her mouth wide. “Manners.”
Fuck my life. “Please.”
The look she gave me sent my dick rock hard. The hand in her hair floated down her neck, sliding over her collarbone until it reached her nipple. She took it between her middle finger and thumb, twisting it gently.
This time, my groan broke free. “That’s so hot,” I rasped, my fist clenched tight.
She moved her raised leg wide, sending my imagination wild.
What was underneath? Did she have panties on or was she bare?
Her hand slid down until it rested at the bottom seam of her pajama shorts, sending my mind into overdrive.
Would she really do it if I asked?
I was at the point of no return. There was no turning back. I wanted to see her fall apart. “Touch yourself.”
Scarlet
Holy shit. How this went from ‘sorry for yelling’ to him ordering me to touch myself in the space of five minutes, I wasn’t sure. I’d knocked on Reid’s bedroom door with pure intentions, feeling horrible for both swearing and yelling at him — something my father had done to me throughout the course of my life until Mom kicked him to the curb. Yet, surprisingly, I’d told Reid this information, and I wasn’t sure why.
Maybe it was because I knew he was hiding something. I felt it in my bones and it made me want to find out what. Surprisingly, divulging this information to him had felt natural. There seemed more to our connection lately, and I didn’t know when it had changed, but it had.
Reid stared at me with hungry eyes, and I swore they said everything he couldn’t. He wanted me as much as I wanted him, but something was holding him back. I knew he felt this connection between us, because the heat in eyes gave it all away, even when he couldn’t say the words. They memorized every inch of me, my entire body melting under his observation.
Gods, I felt out of my depth, my palms clammy at the thought of what might happen next. Warmth flooded between my thighs, and I spread my leg wider, watching as his gaze followed the movement. It dipped to where I ached for his attention most. His eyes, his touch, his mouth. My sex grew a heartbeat, pulsing beneath my pajama shorts, my hips chasing friction that didn’t exist. Not yet.
He wanted me to touch myself. But could I, really? I decided to once again fire his own words back at him. “You need to be a little more specific,” I said with a coy grin, knowing how he would react.
The corner of his mouth peaked, a storm brewing in his eyes. “You know where.”
Two could play this game.
“Here?” I said in mock innocence, running my hand down the edge of my pajama shorts, settling right on the seam that barely covered me.
“Inside.” He ran a hand through his hair, his fingertips fucking his scalp. Dark tuffs remained in their wake, sticking up and making him look like he’d either just woken up or got laid. An image I never wanted to forget.
“Not fair,” I said, pushing back, wanting to know how far he would take this. “You first.”
His head dipped to the side, as if weighing his options.
Like he had any.
If I was soaked, then he was surely hard.
Slowly, he removed the comforter, leaning back against the wall. All tattoos, muscles, and eyes drenched with bad intentions. He sat in nothing but his boxers, like a god. A god with a rock-solid dick pushing against the material barely containing it.
