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“You want me to leave you alone so you can rub one out?”
My middle finger makes an appearance.
“Or I can stay and help.”
With a groan, I turn to thump him, instinctively lifting my gaze to his and boy, is that the wrong move. Because he’s joking, yeah. But he’s also… not.
Shit, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he looks pretty damn horny too.
It’s a trick of the light. Or I’m projecting my horniness onto him. My brain is so sex-addled, it can’t even take a joke. Because it is, obviously, one big joke.
I can joke. I can call his bluff. He can have his fun, and I can too.
Cocking my head, I sink my teeth into my bottom lip. “Yeah?” I swear, I hear his breath catch as I annihilate the distance between us. “How would you help?”
Cass’ smirk drops. His expression blanks in a way that makes me want to backtrack, say‘ha ha! Gotcha, fool!’But then he composes himself. Cocks his head right back at me. His mouth remains in a flat, unreadable line but those beautiful, dark eyes glitter in that hypnotizing, entirely unfair way. “You really want me to answer that?”
Locking my knees when they wobble at his husky tone, I tilt my chin.You can do it, Sunday. It’s all fun and games.“I asked, didn’t I?”
One step has us chest to chest. Or chest to forehead, more accurately, because Cass is as freakishly tall as I am freakishly short and it’s a borderline comical, highly inconvenient imbalance. I feel teeny-freaking-tiny as I peer up at him but I persevere. Even as he herds me up against the freezer again, as cold plastic against flushed bare thighs makes me flinch, I don’t look away.
Cass does first, but it’s not the relief I expected. Somehow, it gets worse. Eye contactfeltlike foreplay. His gaze brushing over every inch of skin bared to himisforeplay. It’s as tactile as if he was touching me, a tangible thing I feel like flames scorching my skin, and it takes everything in me not to crumble under the weight of it.
“How would I help?” he asks himself more than me, voice a low hum. Warm fingers graze my collarbone as they toy with one strap of my dress, and my own clutch the freezer’s edge. “I’d start by getting rid of this.”
Yes, please.“Pretty sure that’s more for your benefit than mine.”
A noise of disagreement reprimands me a second before the sharp snap of cotton against my skin does. “Everything I do is for your benefit lately.”
The tender words catch me off guard, and he takes advantage of it. While I’m struggling for a retort, he prepares the big guns and by the time I recover, he’s already locked and loaded.
“There are a lot of things I regret about that night,” he tells me, patting my bump gently as if to say,‘this isn’t one of them.’ “But not getting you naked,” he slips the straps off my shoulders, eye remaining on my face even as the front of my dress gapes to an indecent extent, “on your back,” he palms my lower back, fingers dangerously close to the curve of my ass, “with your legs wrapped around my head and my tongue in your pussy, definitely tops the list.”
Oh, I am so out of my depth here. He’s got a gold medal in dirty talk; I barely passed the qualifying round.
“I’d make up for it now, though. Fuck, I’d spend hours making up for it. Wouldn’t stop until my girl’s satisfied. Would do it with a smile on my fucking face.”
Fuck. Why did I think this was a good idea? What touch-starved, dumbass part of my brain suggested this? I’m like a freaking bunny provoking a lion except I don’t have all that much of a problem with getting eaten.
Out.
“Sound helpful?”
My nod is jerky, listless, the perfect representation of how out of control I feel of my body right now. Of my mouth, specifically, because I’m certain if I had my wits about me, I’d be able to stop from blurting, “Do it.”
Cass’ touch abruptly retreats. His lazy look of what I can only describe as male pride disappears, and takes with it the last of my dignity. When he backs away, I think I’ve gone too far. When he makes for the door, I feel a profound sense of… loss. Missed opportunity. Undeserved outrage at Cass for teasing without providing the release I need like air.
Embarrassment rushes through me—really, what was I expecting?Fool—and I turn away to stare at the wall as I once again contemplate throwing myself in the freezer. Fuck, why did I do that? We were finally okay. The awkward weirdness of our situation was finally going away, and now I’ve brought it back because I can’t keep my mouth shut.
Or my legs.
Funny how that continues to be a recurring problem.
And then, I hear the click of a lock. A slow inhale followed by a heavy exhale. The cracking of knuckles as hands fist and flex. Footsteps against concrete making their way back to me. The soft rustle of fabric as firm, confident fingers slip beneath my dress, skimming my upper thighs until skin becomes lace.
Cass fists the waistband of my panties. Yanks them high so the fabric wedges between my pussy lips, a tight friction against my clit. I gasp. He does it again and my head falls forward, a moan catching in my throat. “I know, baby,” he croons against the back of my neck. “I've got you. Just want one thing first.”
“Tell me to ask nicely and I’ll throat-punch you.”
