“Or what, princess?”
“Or I’ll strangle you with my bare hands.”
His hands skimmed up my thigh to my hips, fingers digging into my soft flesh.
“So violent,” he said with a mischievous grin. “I like it.”
“I swear if you rip—” He cut me off, slamming his lips to mine.
I let out a squeak of surprise and then relaxed into the rhythm of the demands his mouth made of mine. His kisses felt illicit, addictive. I’d never get enough of him like this, and that was a dangerous thought.
It wasn’t just a kiss. It was passion and desire and need and heat. Warmth flowed into my core, and I threaded my fingers through the locks of his hair, tugging at the roots, wanting to feel more of him as his lips ravaged mine.
His fingers slipped into the material of the shorts of my romper, skimming across the front of my black lace thong. He grazed my clit lightly, passing over it once, twice, three times before he jerked my thong roughly to the side and slid a thick finger inside.
He groaned into my mouth, pulling his finger out and then pushing it back in, making my entrance slick with my arousal before inserting a second finger. My gasp at the intrusion quickly turned into a moan as his fingers curled, hitting just the right spot in a slow rhythm that made me want him to rip my clothes off so I could have more than just his fingers.
“Are you always this wet, princess? Or do you just like it when it feels like we’re doing something we shouldn’t? Do you like the idea of me taking you on this counter where I’m supposed to be cooking you a meal?”
I gasped as he delved his fingers deeper, already past coherency.
He was right. It felt like we were indulging in something that we shouldn’t. And I kind of loved it. Playing this way, while I was still fully clothed, reminded me of our little rendezvous in the coatroom months ago and of the way he teased me under the table the other night while Jack and Olivia sat across from us. Deliciously forbidden.
“Maybe I’ll just devour you instead.”
“Me canta,”I said, my brain turning fuzzy as he circled my clit with his thumb.
“That’s right, Eve. You love it. Relax and let’s have some fun, hm?”
I found the button on his shorts, unfastening and yanking them down. I wrapped my hand around him, gripping firmly as I stroked his smooth flesh. My teeth dug into the bottom of my lip as his head fell to my shoulder and his fingers stilled inside me.
“Shit.” He wrapped his fingers around my wrist. “If you keep touching me like that, I’m going to break rule number three."
I let out a breathy laugh, unwrapping my fingers and sliding them up to his broad shoulders. The idea that he still cared about following my"I come first"rule left me questioning all the men I’d slept with before.
Even the men I’d had committed relationships with hadn’t cared whether I got as much pleasure out of our sexual encounters as they did. Whether or not I finished was secondary to what they got out of it. And if I couldn’t get there, then it was a me problem.Iwas broken. It was somethingIneeded to fix. Because clearly their dick, their fingers, their tongue, their approach or lack of patience couldn’t possibly be the issue.
Bringing Ben to my hotel room last weekend to relieve the sexual tension had been liberating. I had decided I didn’t give a fuck what he thought. I was going to get mine one way or another. And shockingly, he’d been completely game to go along with it.
But the tension between us wasn’t going anywhere, anytime soon. And with his fingers inside me, inching me closer and closer to orgasm, I wondered what that meant and if I could shove all my feelings away into a drawer, so I didn’t mess up our arrangement.He didn’t want a commitment. He wanted fun.
Damnit.
I’d taken myself out of the moment and now that climax I had been racing toward screeched to an abrupt halt.
As if Ben knew what I was thinking, he withdrew his fingers, flexing and bending them like they were cramping.
He pulled away with a sigh. “Can I get a hint?”
“A hint?” I repeated, confused.
“How do I take this outfit of chastity off you so I can fuck you thoroughly?”
I snorted, kissing up his jawline to his ear, relieved that he had given me a reprieve from the overthinking spiral my brain was headed toward. I grazed my teeth across his lobe before whispering, “Look in the back.”
He leaned towards me, peering over my shoulder at the back of the romper.
“Aha!” he exclaimed, unzipping it in one swift tug.
