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“Not yet.”
“Not ever.” She retorts.
And there’s my opening. “If you’re so sure you’re not going to fuck me, what’s the harm in sleeping in my bed then? Following your logic, it’ll be totally platonic so it’s covered under our deal. Sleep in my bed or the deal is off.”
???
16.
16.
Bellamy
Anger unfurls in my stomach, my arms tightening across my chest as I work to control my annoyance. His objectively flawless logic infuriates me almost as much as his need to win at all costs.
“Fine. But if you think you’re getting any sexy lingerie I can’t wait to introduce you to my onesie collection.” I give him a sly grin. “They zip up to the neck.”
I don’t have a onesie collection but I’m about to invest in one if it means having a physical barrier between him and I.
He’s tossing a ball back and forth between his hands, giving himself a couple passes back and forth before replying. “Can’t wait.”
“I told you. I won’t sleep with you as part of the deal.”
“I know,” He says with a cocky smirk, “You’ll fuck me because you want to, not because I forced you. You already let me finger that tight cunt of yours.”
I flush to my hairline at the crudeness of his words. Not just the crudeness but how he talks about sleeping withme.
I should be disgusted.
I shouldn’t be turned on.
But my thighs clench and I feel slickness between them at the thought of him putting his fingers inside me again. I shudder as I think of the way his hand had wrapped around my throat.
Damn him.
What is wrong with me? I hate him.
Yes, Ihatehim. He’s made my life hell since I got here. If I repeat it to myself enough times, maybe my body will finally internalize it.
“You didn’t give me much choice in the matter.” I say with a prim sniff. “As I recall, you had me pinned against the shelf.”
The ball he’s been throwing back and forth lands in one hand and stays there. He stares at me, the look in his eye deadly. “As I recall, you were soaked. My fingers almost drowned in your pussy.”
“That’s not true!” I cry out defensively.
“Let’s find out who’s telling the truth, shall we?”
I don’t have time to reply before he’s got me laying on the table behind me. He grabs my legs and wraps them around his waist.
For a beat he doesn’t move.
He simply looks down at where I’m laying on my back with my hair splayed out around me. His hands grip my thighs. His fingers dig possessively into my flesh. He grunts, liking what he sees, and tugs me towards him so my ass hangs off the edge.
Holding himself upright, he flicks the button of my pants open, pulls the zipper down and yanks my jeans down my legs in one swift movement before tossing them behind him like they’ve personally offended him.
His fingers are confident, cocky like his smile, as they start at my knee and trace up my thigh before dipping beneath my panties. They park at my entrance then lazily drift up my slit to my clit, collecting my wetness along the way.
And he was right. I’m dripping.
