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And as he had done, that first night, he allowed himself to move one finger inside of her, to feel for himself her moist tightness. She bucked hard, grinding downwards, seeking and needing fulfilment.
He removed himself just before she came. He wasn’t ready to give her that pleasure. Yet. She had a lot of payment to make before he allowed her that release. “I think it’s time you told me your name, don’t you?”
Disappointment seared inside of her. She’d been so close. So desperate. Her body was aching with thwarted desire. “Maggie,” she husked, pulling her hand down and forming a fist by her side. “It’s Maggie.”
“I presume you have more than one name?”
She nodded, struck dumb by what was happening. “Maggie Carrington.”
“Well, Maggie Carrington, I suppose I should thank you.”
“Why?” She asked quietly, sanity returning.
“I was already plotting an excuse to get the hell out of here. Boring parties in the middle of nowhere are not my thing. But now… things are looking up. At least I have some entertainment for the weekend. I will come to your room tonight.”
She wanted to say something. She knew she should. But as she had been, the night they met, she was struck mute. Just as she had done then, she wanted him, and no amount of self-berating could take that away. “I’m the second room to the right, upstairs.”
He opened the cupboard door, and now, she could see his face. Harsh, angular, with that scar she’d liked to run her tongue along. “Wait for me in your bed. Be naked. I have no patience for foreplay with you.”
