He plunged two fingers inside of me, and I sucked in a sharp breath as my body shuddered from the welcomed intrusion. “You need to be quiet. Don’t want your brothers to hear you scream, do you?”
Easy for him to say.
I tucked my lips between my teeth as he pumped his fingers while his thumb circled my clit. My hips rolled, grinding against his hand, and it didn’t take long before I felt myself tiptoeing along that edge. My fingernails dug into his shoulder over the fabric of his shirt, and I felt him tense beneath my hand.
I looked down, and another quiet moan escaped me as he picked up the speed of his fingers, watching the way the muscles in his forearm corded as he worked me. “You like that, Princess? Seeing how I fuck your pussy with my fingers?”
Both his words and a curl of his fingers drew another moan from me. My knees began to buckle, and my hand slid up to grip the back of his neck. “Wes, I’m–I’m gonna?—”
“Do it,” he rasped. “Come for me.”
He slammed his fingers into me up to the knuckles and crashed his lips against mine, swallowing my moan as I came. My body jerked and trembled as I clenched around his fingers, and when he drew his lips back from mine, I was panting, still gripping the back of his neck.
“I said five minutes, but I think that was four.” He smirked, slowly withdrawing his hand. He held my stare as he brought his fingers to his mouth, and when he sucked them clean, Iwatched his pupils dilate. “That’ll tide me over until later,” he said huskily, and I gave him a curious look. “I have dinner tonight, but I’ll be at your place after for dessert…if you’re up for it.”
My breathing started to slow as I held his stare and nodded. “Yeah.”
Wes used the few moments I took to fix my clothes into place to compose himself before we got into the golf cart and headed back up the hill to meet my brothers and Chad.
None of them seemed to have a clue what we’d just been up to as the four of them got right back to their game of golf.
And I watched Wes the rest of the afternoon, my mind conjuring up thoughts and images of what was to come that night.
I didn’t get it. I didn’t get how I could go from wanting to strangle him one minute to him turning me into a needy mess who neededmoreof him the next.
None of it made sense.
Not him.
Not me.
Notthis.
But no matter how little sense it made, it kept us both satisfied and worked.
So I continued to go with it.
Chapter 23
Saturday nights outwere a regular occurrence. We’d done them every week for nearly four years now. What wasn’t a regular occurrence was going a little too hard on the alcohol.
Typically, one of us would always be mindful and have only one drink—two at most—so we’d always have a ride in case we needed one. That was usually Gabe, and by choice, because while he drank, he wasn’t a fan of being shitfaced and dealing with the killer hangover that came with it.
It’d been a long time since I got carried away, but Lucas was celebrating getting an offer on his house that he’d put on the market. It was aneight-figureoffer. So, it gave me a reason to throw back a few more than usual.
I wasn’t stumbling down drunk, but I was definitely feeling it.
I’d moved from our table to the bar and was casually nursing another beer when my eyes slid down to the other end, where Morgan was shamelessly flirting with some guy. I saw himapproach her a little while ago when she was playing a round of pool with Callie, asking if he could buy her a drink.
He’d now bought herthree.
Something about this thing between me and Morgan as of late was drawing me in more than it probably should and certainly more than I should let it.
I stopped actively looking to find flings and casual dates; I still went out, flirted, and struck up conversations, but I wasn’t going out of my way to find anyone else to take home. I knew I had Morgan to fall back on, so I became lackadaisical in getting it anywhere else. As someone not looking for anything serious, it worked for me because I knew nothing between us would ever go beyond meaningless sex, and I was fine with that.
But that meaningless sex with Morgan had become almost addicting in a sense. Because it was fuckinggood. Everything about it was exactly what I needed and wanted, and each time, she made it better than the last, making me want it again and again.
At that point, I was wholly convinced Morgan Hayes was a real-life succubus. Because how else couldshe, of all people, havethismuch of an effect on me? To the point where she could simultaneously irritate me and turn me on. To the point where Icravedher. And to the point where I didn’t want someone else taking up time and space with her thatIcould have…like the prick who’d bought her three drinks that night.
