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“B-but…”
“I’m not putting my hands on you until you decide this is what you want, Skye.”If I do, I won’t be able to pry them off again, baby. You’ll be stuck with me, whether you really want me or not.“So, be a good girl and come all over that hand for me.”
She bites her lip, clearly trying to decide if this is something she wants to give me. It takes her all of five seconds to decide. Her hand drifts down her body, headed toward her pussy.
I step back, giving her room to work. Giving myself a little buffer to keep myself from taking more than she’s willing to give. With her, it’d be too goddamn easy to get carried away. I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anything. I have since the minute I saw her in the damn shop yesterday.
She’s Kryptonite, and I’m weak for her. Only, it doesn’t feel like poison pumping through my veins. It feels a whole helluva lot like love.
Jesus. Is that what’s happening here? I’m falling for her? No. I think I fell the minute I looked into those big blue eyes yesterday. Everything I’ve done since has been a desperate attempt to get her on the same page. I need her to want this as fucking badly as I do. Because I don’t know how to be anything other than who I am. For her, I think I’d kill myself trying, though. If it’s what she needed, I’d move mountains.
“Slade,” she moans, her back arching off the sofa as her thumb rolls over her clit. “W-why does it feel so good th-this time?”
“Because you’re imagining my hand between your thighs, Skye,” I rasp, rubbing my shaft through my pants… trying like hell to keep it in my pants. “Because you love having my eyes on you while you touch yourself.”
She starts out slow, teasing herself, touching her clit, and then dancing her fingers away. She swirls them through her folds, circles her tight little opening, and then shifts back to her clit. Within seconds, though, her little hand is doing business, her fingers working frantically as she plays with herself, trying to get herself there.
“You love being told what to do and how to do it.” I drop to my knees in front of her, putting myself at eye level with her perfect little pussy. My God. It’s so fucking wet and pink. “When you finally say yes, it’ll be me between those thighs for real, Who.”
“Slade,” she whines. “Please.”
“You’ll beg to be fucked and punished and pleased.” I sink my teeth into her calf, unable to resist touching some part of her. “You’ll fucking live for it like the filthy little toy you are.”
She cries out, coming all over her hand.
I groan, watching as her little hole pulses and cream drips all the way down the crevice of her ass. My fucking mouth waters with the desire to bury my face between her thighs and lick it up. I dig my hands into the sofa, fighting like hell to keep my hands to myself.
Not yet. Not yet. Fucking hell. Not yet.
“Slade. Slade,” she chants, trembling and shaking like a little leaf as she works every last little drop out of herself.
I watch in rapt attention, not missing a second of the show. It’s the single best thing I’ve ever witnessed.
When she’s finished, she slumps against the back of the sofa, her eyes closed and her cheeks flushed. She pants for breath, still trembling. I scoop her up into my arms, cradling her close.
“Good girl,” I croon, running my lips all over her face. “You did so good, Who.”
“Mmm,” she hums, snuggling into my embrace.
I hold her close for a long moment, heaping praise on her, running my hands up and down her back, taking care of her as she comes back down. When her breathing evens out, I haul myself to my feet, carrying her down the hall in search of her room.
“Last one on the right,” she mumbles.
I find the door she indicated and step through into an oasis of tranquility. Her room is nothing like her personality. It’s calming and serene, with soft colors and warm, comforting fabrics everywhere. Pictures of her sisters and an elderly woman are scattered on shelves around the room.
I carry her to the four-poster bed in the middle of the room and pull back the covers before depositing her in the middle of it. She sinks in like she’s sinking into a cloud, already on the verge of sleep.
Her ponytail came undone while she was on the couch, leaving her hair loose around her face. I brush tendrils away from her face before placing my lips against her ear as I tuck her in.
“Sweet dreams, sweet Skye.”
“Mmm,” she moans. “Slade?”
“Yeah, Who?”
“If kangaroo means stop and Horton means slow down, what word means go faster?”
My heart leaps in my chest, hope blasting through me. Fuck me. Is she saying she wants a word that means go faster?
