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I smiled.
She had an attitude that would not quit. She could be as abrasive as she could be soft, and switch between the two on the turn of a dime. Having a sense of what she was feeling inside, when her words and actions were harsh, was like my personal answer key to the riddle that was Never Darling.
Had our connection been consensual, I would have exploited it fully. And if I’d been smarter, I would have kept what I was sensing to myself and used that knowledge to learn everything I could about her.
But it wasn’t. She hadn’t truly known what she was giving me when I asked her to let go all those months ago, and it was clear that she didn’t want me seeing everything. No matter how much the rough, possessive part of me bucked against the logic, I had to give her control over it.
“Try this,” I said, letting my hand continue its wandering. “Imagine a door. You’re on one side and I’m on the other.”
“Okay,” she said doubtfully.
“Now, think about what you want to keep to yourself. The thoughts and emotions you want to be yours and yours alone.”
“Would it be a dick move to say all of them?” she asked playfully, though I got the impression she was only half joking.
I let my hand drift lower, cupping her hot pussy possessively.
She shifted against me, setting my nerves alight. “That’s not playing fair.”
“Focus, Never.”
She let out a little groan that shot right to my center. “Fine. What are the things I want to keep to myself?”
“I said think about them. Find them in your mind.”
“Right,” she huffed.
It was hard to tell if she was taking the exercise seriously. So, I squeezed her neck gently, brought my lips to her ear, and whispered, “Focus.”
“Easier said than done when there’s a demanding pirate pressing his cock into your back and whispering in your ear,” she fired back.
That pulled a chuckle out of me. I adored this woman’s sass so damned much, but I wasn’t about to stop. I had a powerful need to touch her, to claim her, to fuck her so hard she would still feel me a week later. Touching her like this, without pulling her up onto my lap and sinking into her, was my middle ground.
I ran my middle finger up her center, and she bucked hard when I brushed her clit, sloshing water over the rim.
When I didn’t move back down or circle that delightful little nub, she let out an impatient huff. “I can show you how to do that, you know.” She lifted her hand off the edge of the tub, and I squeezed her neck tighter in warning.
She stilled, her hand hovering. It was like she was deciding if it would be worth it to try. A new note of curiosity drifted through the other emotions spilling from her, but she finally put her hand back on the rim.
“I’m not sure I like this game,” she said, but her energy told a different story.
“Then tell me to stop,” I offered. “It only takes one word.”
Instead, she gifted me with silence.
“That’s what I thought. Back to the door, love.”
She wiggled her hips just enough to steal my attention from the thing I was trying to do and send it careening toward the much more satisfying things I wanted to do. Swallowing hard and forcing myself back, I ran my finger up her center again. This time, when I brushed her clit, her fingers tightened on the edge of the tub.
Hunger flared inside me, and before I could reason with myself, I circled it again. Once, twice.
The sound that came out of her was illicit, and that barely caged wildness in me rushed to the surface. It demanded I stop this foolishness and take her right there, not caring that I really was trying to help her.
I was, right?
Admittedly, I was also torturing her a tiny bit. How could I not? I didn’t want her to muzzle our connection, and her body was so delightfully responsive. Her tiny sounds. The way her body trembled, sending a ripple through the steaming water. Even just the feel of her soft, wet skin against mine. I would never get enough.
“Where’s the door?” I whispered.
