AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Need you,” I gasp. “God, yes.”
“That’s my girl,” he whispers, but there’s something different on his face, a flash of fear and vulnerability, there and gone in a flash. “I’ll make you come. You’re so close, aren’t you?”
I can’t speak. Can barely breathe as he moves the sponge up, down, up, down, torturing me, encouraging me to ride on it and let it consume me.
“Can you feel it?” he whispers. “How you’re losing control?”
I’m so worked up right now, I think a word or a touch can set me off.
So of course, with impeccable timing, a woman’s voice says from behind me, “Your dinner, sir, ma’am. I’ll just place it here.”
A clink and a swish, and steps clapping away.
Oh. My. God.
I freeze. Even pressed up against Hawk like this, not sh
owing much of my body, I’m mortified, because it’s obvious what’s going on here.
Hawk chuckles.
“Oh God,” I moan.
“Did you like that?” he asks.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
But of course I know what he’s saying. That I liked being watched. And it’s… No, I didn’t like it! I’m ashamed. Humiliated. I’m not an exhibitionist—so why does my pussy throb like mad, even worse than before?
“Have you wondered,” Hawk whispers, “what would have happened if she’d walked in a moment later and saw you riding me? Your gorgeous tits bouncing as you rode my cock, my hands palming them, pinching your nipples? If she walked in on you screaming my name as you came, or as I came, slamming into you again and again?”
Holy frigging hell. This image… it’s too much.
I come hard, moaning out loud at the burning pleasure, my body shaking, my nails digging into his arms as I clench again and again.
“That’s what I thought,” he says and sounds pleased.
***
The food is delicious. The soup is just the right balance of sweet and salty and sour, the chicken melts on my tongue. We’re turned on our sides, one elbow on the ridge of the tub, eating from the tray.
“Do you do that often?” I ask, slowing down finally, having inhaled practically everything on my plate. Well, there’s some potato left, and I take one more bite.
“Do what?” He’s chewing on his chicken, a muscled arm propped on the ledge, the muscles in his bare chest rippling as he lifts his hand to his mouth. He licks his lips, and God, how can I want more, want him inside me when I’ve just come not ten minutes ago?
“Show off the girls you bring to your penthouse or country house to your housekeeper or your butler, or whatever the hell you have?”
He grins and snorts. “Oooh. Lay is pissed.”
My face aflame, I bite my lip, because he just called me Lay, and I like it too much. Not Hot Body, or Doll, or Babe.
Lay.
He licks his fingers, and I’m distracted again, imagining them in my mouth, on my skin, inside me—
“To answer your question, I don’t.”
I blink, trying to catch the end of our conversation thread. “Don’t show them off?”
