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“Yes,” I said through my teeth as I fought not to take over and plunge inside.
“Then tell me. Have you touched yourself while imagining it was my fingers?”
“No.”
“Are you lying to me?”
“It was your cock.”
He grinned wickedly. “Tell me how I fucked you?” His teeth grazed my ear.
“Hard,” I rasped.
“And?”
“From behind. On the floor. Against the wall,” I said between pants.
“You’ve gone dirtier than that.” His husky voice sent a chill through me.
“On your desk.”
“Wicked . . .”
“In the sand. Right on the edge of the water. I know it would suck, but you all sandy and wet?” My sex contracted around our fingers.
“If you’d have told me, I could’ve done something about it. Now it’s broad daylight. Anyone could see,” he scolded.
“I don’t care.”
He plunged our fingers inside. My lips parted as my legs grew weak. With slow, steady strokes, he moved in and out.
“I shouldn’t have to tell you,” I said breathlessly.
“But you hate me,” he whispered against my ear.
“If you don’t make me come, I will.”
“So I might not be so bad?”
“Will you stop talking and fuck me?”
The pace he dictated was maddeningly slow. I screamed in frustration.
“Let it out, Wicked. Give it all to me.”
My other hand was trapped beneath his on my hip. I dug my nails into my flesh.
“More.”
“You want more?” His voice was a seductive taunt.
“That’s what I said.”
“How much more?”
“All of it,” I cried.
He sucked on my neck and pressed against my G-spot. Everything across my lower stomach tightened before it released.
