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I trace my hand even higher, nudging her thighs further apart. Her breathing fractures and she swallows noticeably. “And the others?”
“Gluttony because having you once or twice wouldn’t be enough. A man would want to take all day, all week, years making you his over and over again.” The tips of my fingers brush against the silk gusset of her panties causing her to grab onto my wrist. “Envy at whoever has you, has your attention, even if just for a minute.”
“A…and the others?” Her voice is nothing more than a breathy whisper now.
“Any man with you would feel a sense of pride that would overwhelm any chance to be humble and pious.” I put my lips close to her ear. “And I don’t think I have to explain wrath to you. Any man would kill to have you, to keep you, to make you his. You’ve seen that firsthand today.”
Chapter Seven
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Eden
He nips my ear, “Haven’t you, Angel?”
His fingers finally brush against the silk of my panties, and I fight the urge to cry out. The last thing I want is for Cricket and Adam to realize what is happening under this desk. Not because I’m embarrassed about the deal I made to stay safe. I…just really don’t want anyone to know I’m losing my shit over here. Fast.
Is that even normal? Being turned on and all the person’s done is just brush your leg. I’ve seen my dad and how he acts with women he’s married. He’s never been this…physical with any of them. He and Vicki rarely even touch. Neither one of them is ever breathless over brushing against one another. So…what’s wrong with me?
Is this just a fear response? My way of handling the situation I’m in? Once I’m out -if I ever get out that is- will I be ashamed of what I had to do, think back and cringe at how I let him touch me? Does it really matter if I wind up dead? Does any of it matter then?
His hand brushes the gusset again applying pressure. Enough pressure I almost stand up with shock when I realize he’s basically tracing the outline of my lips through my underwear. Even over the panties, the touch is intimate and raw, like nothing is between his fingers and my skin. He holds me in his lap and our eyes meet and clash with one another. I’m staring deep into his when he slides my panties to the side and slowly runs his fingertip up the middle of my bared sex.
Both my hands fly to my mouth to try to hold in the scream that wants to fly out. My eyes feel as wide as saucers while his seem to bore into me, looking into the core of who I am. He pulls his hand out from under my skirt, and I watch as he brings his finger -the finger that ran up my center- to his mouth. He does the whole thing while looking right at me, so I see him place the finger on his tongue before he closes his lips around it and sucks it…clean. A shiver hits me so hard I almost fall off his lap, but his hand is on my hip holding me tight.
His eyes close like he might be savoring…the taste, as my cheeks explode with warmth and color. His eyes snap open and pin me with a stare I’ve only ever seen on television, on nature shows…when the predator spots the helpless prey just before it pounces. He pulls me close so he can whisper to me. “Breathing is recommended.”
It’s only at his reminder that I realize I’ve been holding my breath this entire time. I lower my hands as I drag in a deep, and much-needed, breath of air. I don’t have a chance to truly enjoy the renewed oxygen because his finger comes back and picks up right where it left off. This time he isn’t satisfied with just one swipe. This time he wants more. His fingers go exploring as he runs his fingers up the inside lips of my…it’s a place no one has ever touched except Demon.
He does it over and over again. It’s like he’s trying to memorize my body with the tips of his fingers. He’s not content with just one digit either. This time he’s using all of his fingers, drumming along flesh, swiping across skin, and honing in on the place between my legs that aches sometimes when I wake up from a really good dream.
I start really squirming on his legs so he doesn’t find out how…achy it can be. But his other hand holds me tighter and he gives me a look that clearly says we had a deal. I try to calm down and let him do what he wants to do to my body while still trying to stay quiet and still. I don’t do a very good job since the second the pad of his finger brushes over the bundle at the top of the place he is exploring, I gasp out and have to choke back a strangled sob.
Cricket and Adam look over at us wondering what is going on. Thankfully I don’t have to say anything because Demon is handling it. He gives Cricket a look that has him turning his back and distracting Adam. In case that wasn’t good enough, Demon speaks loud enough for the others to hear. “Sorry, I must have rolled over something sensitive. Didn’t mean to catch anything.”
Adam settles back down when he thinks the only thing Demon is talking about running over are my toes. Demon squeezes my side, prompting me to mumble out a garbled reply, “I...it’s alright. I…I’m okay.”
The last is said for mostly me. I am alright. I am okay. The touch of a man’s hand is not going to rock my foundation so much I lose myself. I’m not going to forget everything, especially not where I am and the situation I am in. His fingers go back to tracing and touching before coming back to the epicenter of feeling for me.
This time, he juggles me so we are closer to the desk, more hidden than before. It’s an added benefit to me because I can rest my elbows on the hard surface while trying to fight the emotions and sensations Demon is causing underneath it all. He starts playing with the hard nub of packed nerves and I have to curl my lips in between my teeth in order not to cry out.
I tried to touch myself once, but I could never relax enough to actually do anything. I don’t understand why this situation is any different. It’s not like this is a relaxing atmosphere or that I feel particularly at ease. So, why am I having to lean my head on the cool wood of the desk in order to keep myself sane, to keep from shouting for him to keep doing what he’s doing?
His hand, the one not under my skirt, travels up my back in a shockingly comforting gesture. But the fingers on the other hand keep playing, keep strumming over the bundle of nerves at the center of my legs. I feel tense, shaky, and completely out of control. He takes me by the shoulder and sits me up so he can nuzzle in my neck and hair.
“You going to cum for me, angel? You going to give me what I want?”
I have to choke back the whimper before it comes out at his words. He takes one of my wrists in his hand and for just a second I think he might be checking my pulse to make sure I’m alright, then I realize he’s doing it to tell how fast my heart is beating, how close I am to giving him what he wants. He takes my other wrist and adds it to the one he’s already encircled.
He takes his hand away only to knock my legs open further so that they are draped on either side of his. My feet don’t touch the ground when I’m on his lap and when he has me like this I can’t help but feel small and helpless. It seems like everything is shaking inside of me now. I have to try to gasp for breath without panting because that will draw attention to what is happening. Sweat breaks out on my forehead as I fight with my body not to lose control.
Something inside of me…some instinctual truth that lays deep inside, understands if I give him what he wants it will all be over. The fight, the line I don’t want to cross, the barrier I put up to keep him away from the heart of me. If I cum for him…I’ll give him more than what he is asking for because I can’t separate what he wants, just my body, from what I’m willing to give him because of how he makes me feel. I’ll fall a lot harder for him than he will for me. I’ll confuse what is happening with my body with him feeling more than he does.
This isn’t romance. It isn’t love. Just because he wants my body, doesn’t mean he wants my heart. So, if I can just keep my body from responding to him, I still have a chance to make it out without any hurt. Well, without too much hurt. I just have to hold on.
Chapter Eight
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