“Good. Now answer my question. Do you like me telling you what to do?”
“Yes.”
His smirk was arrogant, but his own breathing hitched, getting faster when he inhaled deeply and moaned. “Does it make you wet?”
My cheeks burned hot, but not as hot as the rest of my body. He could smell my need for him. There was no point in lying. “Yes.”
“Hm, let’s see how much…”
His right hand remained firm on the back of my head, though not restraining me, merely a solid presence, an anchor. With his other hand, he popped the button on my jeans and teased his fingers inside. Tortuously slow.
My head swam, my breaths short and fast.
“Eyes on me.” His command was a little shakier this time, his voice deeper than ever. I fell into his ocean blue gaze, even as it flickered dangerously with splashes of red. His forehead rested on mine, our fast breaths mingling. We stared at each other, my heart pounding erratically. There would be no more hiding how I felt about him, or pretending that I didn’t care if he wanted me or not; not after this.
His fingers slipped inside the silk of my undies, brushing the hair at the top of my slit. His deep groan as his fingers found the slickness there only turned me on more. His throaty growl got louder when he pushed between my folds and found me slick and swollen.
“Fuck me, Sor, you really like this, don’t you?”
I nodded, sucking my bottom lip between my teeth, trying to suppress a moan.
“Words,” he growled.
“Yesss.” My brain had given up working properly, and I couldn’t form more than one-word answers, not while he was so close.
His fingers slid back up and circled my clit.
“Shane…” I whimpered and gripped his shoulders, trying to keep myself from collapsing from the pleasure of his touch. I wanted so much more.
“That’s it, baby, hold on to me. I’m going to take care of you, but I need you to shimmy these jeans down a little.”
He kept his fingers moving over my sensitive skin as I struggled to comply. I gasped when the denim shifted and heapplied more pressure. Two of his fingers eased inside me, and he pumped them gently.
“I’m going to make you come, Sor, and you’re going to scream my name when you do. Okay?”
I nodded. Then remembered—words. “Yes. Yes. Make me come. Please.”
I didn’t care if I sounded desperate; my fingers were a poor substitute for his, for the way they were stretching me, making my whole body heat like an inferno. I cried out as he drew his thumb over my bundle of nerves while he pumped his fingers in and out. At the sound of my wetness, Shane only groaned louder.
“Mother wolf, you’re so wet. So perfect.”
My internal muscles started to flutter, my whole body working to a fever pitch.
“I want to kiss you while you come.”
It was a statement, but also a question. My heart fluttered even as my muscles wound tighter. He was asking permission. He was powerful and commanding, but if I told him to stop, he would. Only, that wasn't what I wanted. I wanted his mouth on mine. I had for weeks and weeks. Bal’s face flashed into my mind, and part of me wished he were here to join us. My face flamed at how much that thought turned me on. Jesus! Bal, watching, dressed in his perfect suit, was one hot image. I clenched my internal muscles hard. “Please, kiss me.”
Shane’s mouth possessed mine as soon as the words left my lips. His lips were soft and warm, but his kiss was searing. I sighed when his tongue slid against mine, and his hold on the back of my head tightened. The kiss escalated until we were consuming each other. My body fell off the precipice of an orgasm so strong that I screamed into his mouth. He kissed me all through it, his fingers and thumb working me until I was a trembling mass of over-sensitive nerves and weak limbs.
His kiss slowed, becoming more languid and sensual than desperate. His fingers gentled, and he pulled back a bit. Resting his forehead on mine.
“Fuck, Sor.” He lifted his hand from between my legs. “Look at that.” My slickness gleamed on his fingers and hand.
I blushed as he pulled back and lifted his fingers to his mouth, his eyes a stunning mix of electric blue and pulsing red. But another hand gripped his wrist, stopping his progress.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
15
