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GENEVIEVE
Idon’t realise I’ve been sitting on the sofa for so long until my eyelids start to droop, the lack of sleep catching up with me. Still, my excitement and adrenaline over the hit we’re going on wars with my emotions until I’m swinging between sleepy and wide awake. As my eyes pop open again, I realise I’m no longer alone in the living room.
“Are you going to keep staring at me like a creeper?” I ask with a raised brow.
Booker steps from the shadows and into the light cast by the muted TV, grinning at my question. I hadn’t realised I’d been staring at the TV in silence.
“I was just waiting to see how long it took you to realise I was here,” he teases as he comes over to take a seat next to me on the sofa.
“How long did it take me?”
His grin widens. “Five minutes.”
Scowling at his answer, I cross my arms. “If I blame it on the lack of sleep, does that get me points?”
Booker’s eyes turn serious. “No. You need to be wide awake and coherent for the hit if it’s going to work.”
Biting my lip, I lean back and sigh. “I know, but I can’t sleep. I’m too amped up, too excited, too…everything. Every time I think I might be able to sleep, it all hits me again and boom, wide awake.”
Booker studies me, absorbing my words, before his expression turns saccharine. “Maybe that’s something I can help with.”
He leans in and wraps his hand around my throat as if to collar me before pushing me back against the sofa. My arms immediately loosen to wrap around him as he leans in and kisses me. It’s a gentle kiss, a sweet one that has me shifting beneath him at the tenderness behind it. Most of the time, sex with any of the guys is practically feral, but sometimes, they do shit like this and I melt all over again.
Breaking the kiss, Booker traces his lips along my jawline, down to where he clutches my neck gently, and then lower. I’m wearing too many clothes, and I’m suddenly desperate for his touch on my skin, but I shouldn’t worry. Booker was already thinking the same thing, and his other hand goes to my shirt and shoves it up, bra and all, until it’s in a weird position I can barely get myself out of. Giggling as he releases my neck and tries his best to pull the tangled bra and shirt off over my head, I can’t help but wonder if this is what happiness feels like. It sure as shit feels like it. When my face is finally revealed again, Booker is grinning just like I am, laughter lighting his eyes.
“Don’t blame me for the torture devices you women have to wear. Fucking inconveniences.”
“Do you need my help with the rest?” I tease. “Or do you plan on tangling that up too?”
“Watch the attitude, baby,” he replies, his eyes twinkling with our game.
“Or what?” I challenge.
Without answering, Booker grabs my hips and flips me so that I’m pressed against the back of the sofa, staring out at the rest of the dark house. With a swift jerk, my yoga pants are shoved down, but he doesn’t take them off. Instead, Booker leaves them tangled around my knees, using his fist to pull them tight and tie them in a way that leaves my thighs pressed together. When I try to shift, I realise I can’t separate them at all, the pants keeping them locked tightly together.
“Booker,” I growl, trying to shift, but his large hand presses against the small of my back, holding me against the back of the sofa with my ass propped up, as if I’m presenting it.
“Are you going to give me more attitude?” he asks.
“Probably.”
His other hand comes down on my ass without warning, the sharp bite of pain making me jump and press my breasts against the back of the sofa.
“What the fuck?” I snarl, twisting in an attempt to look at him. “Did you just spank me?”
His deep, husky laugh has me flooding with wetness. “Did you like it?”
“No,” is my immediate answer, but then I bite my lip. “Maybe.”
His palm smooths over the sting. “Good girl.” His finger slides along the crease of my ass, going down, down, down until he finds where I’m leaking. “Oh, you liked it a lot.”
“Shut up,” I grumble, trying to press back against his hand, but he holds himself out of reach.
The hand suddenly disappears and comes back down on my other ass cheek, making me jump, but this time, a moan slips out, and I hear his husky chuckle again.
When his hand leaves my back, I don’t move, understanding that he wants me in this position. I feel him shift around, and curiosity has me craning my neck to see him kneeling behind me on the floor, his face even with my ass. Then, with a wicked grin, he grabs my hips with his rough hands and shoves his face against my pussy.
I cry out when his tongue suddenly slides between my thighs and dances over my core, but with the position I’m in, he gets nowhere close to my clit. It’s a fucking shame. With my thighs pressed so tightly together, his tongue slides along the seam as he tortures me in a way that will build tension but never bring me to my release.
