My palm caresses the back of her head. “Do you want sex? Because …” I trail off, struggling to find the right words to convey how badly I want that but how scared I am to take it too far with her. Emotionally and physically.
Billie’s eyes reveal that she’s finding this just as hard. “I don’t know if my body is ready for that, but I do want us to explore each other.”
On a long breath, I close my eyes as relief and frustration crash through me. I know sleeping together is too far for the both of us. But, goddamn, I need to touch her, even if my conscience screams at me to keep my hands to myself.
“Are you wearing panties?” I finally ask, thinking over ways I can give Billie exactly what she needs from me.
She shakes her head, and I bring a fist to my mouth, biting down on my knuckles.
“You’re fucking killing me here. Have you been bare all night?”
Shaking her head again, she lifts my training top a few inches. “I secretly removed them a few minutes ago; they’re somewhere beneath your duvet.”
I reach out, circling her wrist with my fingers. “Show me where you caught yourself on the table last night.”
When she lifts the top on one side, a black-and-blue bruise, spanning the width of her hip bone, appears. I can’t help but trace my fingertips over the mark. It feels like I’m responsible for this.
“Does it hurt?” I ask in a gravelly voice.
“No,” she breathes out. “It hurt at the time, but not anymore.”
It’s only a bruise, but thoughts of anything hurting Billie makes my blood boil, and the same goes for Blake. I’ve never considered myself to be a primal guy, although I’ve equally never met a girl who could drive me this crazy.
Need catapults through me.
“Ride my thigh, Billie Quinn. You watched me jerk myself off to thoughts of you; now I want to see how you come apart just by grinding on me.”
Slowly, deliciously, she adjusts her body so that we’re face-to-face, her knees on either side of one of my own. Even though I haven’t set eyes on what I know will be a perfect cunt, there’s no denying the heat that radiates from it when I feel her wetness seep through my thin athletic shorts.
“Is all of this for me?” I ask, eyes dropping to her pussy.
She pins her bottom lip between her teeth, head tipping back on the first flex of her hips. “I’m soaking wet for you.”
Strands of hair tickle my knee, and I brace my palms on the bed behind me, opening my body up to grant her more freedom to grind against me.
I know that this is a foolish way to justify what we’re doing, but I let my conscience run away with a theory that if I don’t physically get her off with my own hands, then we’re still on the right side of wrong. And if Scott ever asks if I touched his daughter, my response will be the truth based on a technicality.
Jesus, I’m the worst fucking friend in history.
Parted lips, tiny gasps, perfect thighs squeezing around my own—they all push me toward a precipice.
With the way we’re going, there’s no way that Billie will reach her own climax before I find mine. My girl is too beautiful like this, using my body to chase what she wants.
Her peaked nipples tease me through the training top. They’re at the ideal height for me to take them into my mouth, to swirl my tongue around each one. If Billie thinks that I’m as gentlemanly inside the bedroom as I try to be in public, then she’s grossly mistaken. My mouth would ruin her flesh in a single night, and my filthy words would repeat in her brain for a lifetime.
I peer up at her, wishing I’d worn my glasses before we got started. “Is that good for you?”
A soft moan is all I need to hear.
“Are you close?”
She doesn’t answer me, only rocking a little faster.
“I need you to tell me,” I grit out. “Because I’m around ten seconds from blowing straight in my shorts.”
Billie pauses, eyes falling to my dick. Her hand reaches out to cup me.
“Wait,” I command, redirecting her toward her pussy. “In my world, the woman always gets off before I do.”
