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I circle the swollen bud between my moist pussy lips, and frissons of electricity zip out from the contact. "Oh," I gasp.
His gaze intensifies. "Run your fingers around it again."
I do. The pin-pricks of sensations deepen. Moisture bathes the area between my legs. My thighs quiver, and my toes curl.
"How does it feel?" he asks without moving his gaze from mine.
"Like…a storm is gathering in the most intimate part of me."Like I’ve never realized what my body was meant to be used for. Like I want to be used by you. Like I want you to close the distance to me and replace my fingers with your thick ones.
The air in the car grows heavy. The tendons of his throat stand out in relief. The muscles of his jaw flex and I realize he’s not as much in control as he’d like to think he is. "Pinch your clit," he snaps.
A tremor of heat zips under my skin. I hold the tiny swollen nub between my thumb and forefinger, and when I bear down, a volley of sparks charges to my extremities. My nipples tighten. My scalp tingles. I throw my head back and moan. I hear the sound and realize how needy it is. It also turns me on more.
"Do you want to squeeze your tits?" he asks in that low heavy voice which courses another flurry of butterflies through my veins.
I nod, then begin to remove my fingers from my pussy, when he clicks his tongue. "Did I give you permission to do so?"
I shake my head.
"As a punishment, rub your clit."
The thought of the friction where I need it most is almost too much to bear. "I can’t."
"You can. You will. Do it, Belle."
Wait? He has a nickname for me? A glow ignites deep within. I replace my fingers with the heel of my hand. The first stroke sends a surge of sparks spiraling down my legs. I groan, continue to swipe, and an avalanche of goosebumps covers my skin. My entire body shudders. My fingers tremble. "I can’t. No more."
"Once more," he commands.
A whimper spills from my lips. I squeeze my eyes shut, draw in a breath, another, then brush up against my throbbing clit. This time, flames lick my nerve endings. A trembling begin at my toes, steps up my calves, my thighs, circles my lower belly, my pussy. "I think I’m... I’m going to—"
"You will not come without my permission."
"What?" I open my eyelids, turn to him. "Why?"
He merely jerks his chin. "Bring your fingers to your mouth and suck on them."
My breath hitches, my gaze caught by his fiery eyes, the look in them so insistent, I know I can’t disobey. I raise my fingers to my mouth and suck on them.
"How does it taste?"
"Sweet, complex and tangy, with an underlying saltiness." I hold out my fingers. "Do you want to taste?"
10
Edward
Fuck, yes.The sweet scent of her arousal wafts over to me, and my already thickening cock extends further. My blood drains to my balls, and my thigh muscles are so rigid, I’m sure I’m going to split my pants. I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want to lick the glistening ends of her fingertips. And if I do, I’m going to hell.
I swore never to fall for another woman. Yet here I am, in an enclosed space, with the most dangerous woman I’ve encountered sinceher. Maybe even more thanher. I can’t remember feeling this out of my depths withher. But Belle… She is a constant surprise.
Mirabelle Young, daughter of one of the most powerful families in the world, a woman whose purple streaked hair indicates she's trying to change what's in her control—ergo, she can’t change many of the bigger things in her life. The woman who's twelve years younger than me—not twenty, or fifteen, as she’d guessed. The woman whose beauty struck a blow to my chest the first time I saw her, so much so, those big blue eyes of hers had seared themselves into my soul.
The creamy expanse of her neck had made me want to dig my teeth into the skin and mark her where her shoulder met her neck; the flare of her ample hips had invited me to dig my fingers into them and hold her still as I bent and swiped my tongue across her cherry blossom mouth. She's perfect. From the top of her blonde hair, whose shine not even the purple streaks could hide, to the imprint of her nipples that can be seen through the layers of her blouse and her jacket, to the thick thighs that beg me to wear them as earmuffs—to sink to my knees and push my face into the delectable treasure between them. Fact is, since meeting Ms. Mirabelle Young, everything about my carefully structured life has been upturned.
The force of her beauty touches that dead organ in my chest, the one I thought would never revive—indeed, did not want to be revived. Her presence is grace and light, with an awkwardness that awakens my protective instincts. It’s why I offered her a job as my assistant. This way, I can watch out for her. I can make sure she’s safe. But I cannot allow myself to develop feelings for her. I cannot act on this attraction I feel for her. Besides, if she sees the truth of the man I am, she’ll hate me. She’ll never want to see me again. My only role is to ensure she’s protected. That what happened to me as a boy never happens to her.
When I showed her the NDA, I was sure it'd discourage her from accompanying me on this little sojourn. But Little Miss Gorgeous—whose face I almost jerked off to twice today—surprised me… Again. It made me want her more.
