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His hand gathered the fabric of my skirt, slowly pulling it up. I was too shellshocked to move and I hated myself for it. I wanted to throw him off. Something. Anything, but I did nothing.
Instead, I just felt the thick cloth of my skirt rising, baring the backs of my thighs inch by inch until he reached the lower curve of my backside. He didn’t stop there either. He kept pulling it up until the entirety of my bottom was bare.
He’d be able to see everything.
He carefully gathered the fabric and pinned it beneath the hand that was holding me against the desk. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t react.
Was I weak?
Why couldn’t I do anything?
“Just as beautiful as I imagined you’d be, my sweet bride,” he murmured.
There it was again. Bride. Why did he keep calling me that and why did it keep making my core tighten with desire?
He was looking at me. I could feel it. He was looking at the backs of my legs, at the wetness dripping down my thighs, at the folds of my pussy and everything else. I turned my head and gasped into the panties in my mouth. It came out sounding more like a moan than anything else and my mortification deepened.
Something was wrong with me. Seriously wrong.
Maybe I should be committed.
His fingers touched my left cheek, sliding along the lower curve until they just grazed my inner thighs. His fingertips slid along them, and I realized that my fears were true. My wetness had dripped onto my legs, and he’d just found the evidence of it.
For the first time, I was grateful for the panties in my mouth because it meant that I didn’t have to say anything at all.
His hand explored more until it slid right in between my wet folds. I cried out as he discovered just how wet I was for him. His silence was the worst part. I don’t know why I suddenly cared what he thought of me. Would he think I was broken? Would he think I was sick?
My legs trembled. Two fingertips found my clit and circled it gently. Once, then twice, and my heart went wild in my chest as electric tendrils of pleasure raced up and down my limbs.
I wasn’t supposed to like this. I shouldn’t.
His evil fingers continued to play my body, strumming against my clit, and for the first time my hips rocked against him. I hadn’t meant to. I hadn’t wanted to either, but I could quickly feel myself losing control of my body and I didn’t quite know how to get it back.
A single digit slipped over my entrance. I gasped and he slid it all the way inside me. My pussy clenched around him, again and again in shock and desire. He pumped it in and out of me before he pulled it out and drew his hand away.
It returned a second later, only his wet finger was pressed against my bottom hole.
I stiffened. I wanted to tell him to stop. I tried to reach back to push his hands away, but that only resulted in him capturing my wrists behind my back.
Much to my dismay, he returned his attentions to my bottom hole.
I clenched the muscles of my bottom, but his finger was wet, and he was stronger than me. That single finger breached my tight hole, and I was taken aback by the pain that followed.
No one had ever touched me there before. I hadn’t even touched myself like this before.
I wasn’t prepared for the burning, stretching sensation or the way that pain hurtled up and down my spine before settling deep in my core. For several long moments, I struggled to draw in air and think of anything other than his finger in my bottom, but then the stinging hurt began to recede and something else followed.
Blazing hot arousal simmered through every inch of my body and there was no containing it.
He pushed his finger in deeper, past the first knuckle, and I felt every last inch of it. When I tightened around him, the pain worsened for several moments until I forced myself to relax again. Roughly, he pumped that digit in and out of my bottom.
Shamefully, I lifted my hips to meet his sordid thrusts.
Fuck. Why did that feel so good?
I’d had sex before. Plain old boring sex, but I’d never wanted to come from penetration, and this was only his finger inside of me. The only way I’d ever had an orgasm was with my trusty little bullet vibrator between my legs. I’d faked all the others.
I had a feeling that I’d never have to fake anything with Grayson Asher.
