I need to be gentle today. I’ll ease her in until she’s drowning in the pleasure I’m so desperate to give her.
She can barely breathe. Her gasps and held breaths are making her body tremble just as much as my touches are.
“Cum.” My singular word bites through the air as I land a hard smack on her clit and then capture her scream of pleasure with my own kiss. My kiss is more ruthless than hers as I let my tongue delve into her hot mouth. It’s quick like hers though; I pull back both the kiss and my touch, just as soon as it began.
She can barely keep herself still, her body begging her to move away from the sensation, but she needs more. Pulling her shirt down, I move her bra so it pushes her breast up, and before she can object I lean forward and swirl my tongue around her nipple. Her thighs move together and stagger to the side.
Still sucking on her, I smack her thigh with the back of my hand, pushing her legs open and moving my hand to cup her pussy.
Letting her nipple out of my mouth with a pop, I pull back to tell her, “Your cunt is soaking wet for me,” and rub ruthless circles around her clit, making her brow pinch, her mouth open and her body shudder with another climax.
Her entire body spasms with the second orgasm. And I can barely fucking stand to watch with how hard I am. Everything in me begs me to shove my cock down her throat.
Still panting and struggling, Bethany lets her hands fall forward and then quickly moves them back into place on the arm of the sofa. Her eyes search mine for direction with a desperate apology to forgive her swimming in their darkness.
In answer, I pull the tie loose. She came, she let me touch her. I need to get the hell out of here before I fuck her and ruin it all before it’s even begun.
“Next time will be more intense. You should prepare yourself.”
Her first words as I reach for the contract, still on the table, bring a genuine smirk to my lips. “You didn’t ask your question.”
It’s quiet for a moment as I tuck the contract into my back pocket.
“Why are you doing this?” Her bright eyes are wide and full of fire. Full of an intense desire and a curiosity that are addictive. Every look she gives me brings out more life, more heat, more passion in me to coax more of this from her. She burns like wildfire and I want to add fuel to her flame.
“I wanted you to see why I let you live. What I wanted from you against that foyer wall after you pulled that trigger.” Although her chest rises and falls rapidly, the memory of yesterday adding fear into the cocktail of emotions she’s drunk on, the golden flecks in her hazel eyes stay lit. Her lips part slightly, and I know the memory only gets her off just like it does to me.
“It was an accident,” she admits to me.
My smirk widens into an asymmetric grin. “Is that supposed to make me feel better about it?” I ask her and she simply shakes her head, pulling her shirt down and reaching for the thin blanket to cover herself. Her skin is still flushed, the pleasure still rocking through her, but her eyes are focused on the digital clock below her television.
Ever a reminder.
My smile falls as I tell her, “You’re reckless.”
“You’re the one who was almost murdered by someone like me. So who’s really reckless?”
“Maybe I’m just reckless for you,” I answer without thinking, barely hearing my words before recognizing them.
I warn her, “Next time I won’t ask for your boundaries.”
“I would have–”
“Next time I’m going to fuck you like both of us want me to.”
I feel like I’m drowning. Like I’m in over my head, and I don’t know how I ventured into the dark abyss of the ocean, sure to swallow me whole.
I dreamed of him. I dreamed of Jase fucking me, taking me ruthlessly on the sofa. I dreamed of telling him no, only to have him pin me down and take me regardless.
The thought sends a blush of desire to grace my skin, kissing it and leaving a shiver in its wake. The way Jase did last night. Every small touch brought more and more heat, more sensitivity, more life. I felt alive under him.
And I want more. I’m not ashamed to admit I want more of Jase Cross.
Bringing my fingertips to my lips, I remember the kiss I drunkenly stole—thank God I can blame it on the alcohol. He tasted like bad decisions and lust. A sin waiting to happen.
When did my life become like this?