AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Pants?” He reminds me.
I keep my gaze on his as I unbutton my jeans and slide them over my ass and down my legs until I can step out of them. Picking them up, I toss them in Cole’s direction. He catches the garment easily and drops it onto the arm of the couch, his gaze never leaving mine. The air feels cool on my exposed legs, and I can’t help but feel a little naughty standing here like this with him.
“Shit, Layna,” he says, his eyes dropping to my panties. “Is that a thong?”
I smile. “Yep.”
“You’re going to make it really hard for me to follow the rules if you’re walking around here with your sexy ass on display all afternoon.”
I just shrug. “Sounds like your problem. Not mine.”
I turn away from him and walk over to another large box filled with more dishes. Keeping my back to him, I bend over and peel back the tape holding the box closed. I know how I must look right now. I’m wearing a sheer lace thong that leaves my entire ass uncovered. And right now, my ass on full display for Cole as I bend down to pull a carefully wrapped coffee mug from the box. He hasn’t said anything, but I know he’s watching me. I can feel his gaze as though it was his touch on my skin. My heart pounds as I straighten and place the mug on the counter.
I’m not surprised at all when I feel Cole’s hand on my bare hip, but the anticipation has me jumping slightly at the contact. His fingers curve around my hip, gripping me lightly.
“Let’s take a break,” he says in that low, commanding tone I love.
“Not yet,” I say, trying to sound unbothered. “No orgasms until we finish at least 4 boxes.”
His lips brush the back of my neck. “How about, I give you an orgasm each time we finish putting away a box? That sounds fair.”
The idea is more tempting than I want to admit. But I try not to show how badly I want to give in.
“How is that fair?” I ask. “What about you?”
“I love making you come,” he says. “It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Holy hell. That’s hot.
How does he always know exactly what to say to turn me on? Not that his mere presence doesn’t have the same effect. His hand slides around to my stomach, sliding under the hem of my shirt. His fingertips slip just beneath the waistband of my panties and go still. He’s so close to touching me where I want him, but I know what he’s doing. He’s letting me decide.
“Besides,” he says, “If I do my job right, you’ll be coming on my tongue shortly.”
His tongue traces along the shell of my ear. “Trust me when I tell you that having your taste on my tongue is even better than watching you come. When your thighs grip my head and your fingers tangle in my hair. Your back arches and I can feel that little flutter right before you cry out. It’s almost as sexy as when I feel you come on my cock.”
“Such a filthy mouth,” I whisper.
“You love my filthy mouth,” he growls.
That type of arrogance from anyone else would bother me, but we both know he’s right. I love the dirty way he talks when we’re alone. His words and that gravelly voice are enough to make me wet, and he knows it.
“I bet if I slid my hand lower, I’d find that pretty little cunt of yours soaking wet right now,” he says.
When I don’t say anything, he begins to move his fingers in little teasing circles directly above my pubic bone.
“Tell me I’m wrong, Layna.”
I let my eyes fall closed, wishing he’d make good on his threat and touch me. But I won’t ask him to. It would mean letting him win, and I hate admitting defeat.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” I whisper.
“You have no idea how badly I do,” he admits. “I want to feel you all wet and slippery under my fingers. I want to taste you on my tongue.”
I feel his hard length against my back, and I can’t help but press back against him. I want him. We both know it.
“But only if you want it, too,” he says.
As if he believes for one second that I don’t want this? He knows better than that. There’s no way my actions could be construed as anything but willingness on my part. But I know what he wants. He wants me to ask him to touch me. It’s not that he wants me to beg. That’s not it at all. He doesn’t get off on making me beg. He gets off on making sure I’m fully present in every moment of what we do together. He gets off on hearing me say the words. I made the rules for this little game today and he wants me to be the one to change them or throw them out the window if I want to. And I want to. God, do I want to. So, why am I hesitating?
