“New Year’s,” she answers immediately, and I almost regret asking. “I was at a friend’s party, and someone I went to high school with showed up. We went home together. So… six months ago.”
“Was it good?” I ask. Picturing it hurts.
“It was fantastic,” she tells me. “It was the best sex of my life. Incredible. Mind-blowing. I came seven times.”
I lean in closer, mouth by her ear. She smells good. “Liar.”
Her breath is warm against me. I shift my lips down and press them against the quick pulse at her neck.
And she arches into me.
Like she wants this just as much as I do.
“Six months is too long for you, isn’t it?” I murmur against her skin, and she presses her bare hips against me. The pressure is all it takes. I fit my lips against hers and she wraps her arms around my neck.
She kisses me with barely concealed rage.
I meet her stroke for stroke, my tongue brushing hers. I’ve never kissed anyone like her. There’s not a single passive thing about Paige. Nothing docile, nothing soft. No, I’m learning that you have to earn her softness.
Her walls are sky fucking high.
My hands roam. I smooth over her soft skin, her round hips, her long, bare back and down to grip the curve of her ass.
She grinds against me. “You’re hard again,” she says.
“That happens, yes,” I say. It’s more nonchalant than I feel. My cock is painful behind my zipper.
“You really do want me.” She leans back, victory in her eyes, lips swollen from my kisses. “Point, Wilde.”
I stroke my hand down the side of her torso. I brush a thumb over her nipple and hear her indrawn breath. “No,” I tut. “The game isn’t over yet. We need to check if you do, too…”
My hand smooths over the softness of her stomach and down between her legs. Paige doesn’t move away. She just looks at me, hands clasped behind my neck. “Widen your legs, darling.”
Her breath catches. But she widens her stance, just a little. Enough for my hand to slide down and cover her pussy. I run two fingers through her folds.
The softness makes my jaw work.Fuck.Wetness coats my fingers, evidence of her own need. I find the small firmness of her clit and brush my thumb over it.
Paige’s breath catches.
“Here, hmm?” I ask. “You’re wet. I think that means we each won a point.”
“I hate you,” she says against my lips.
My fingers continue to stroke. She’s soaked. “This doesn’t feel like hate.”
“It is,” she says. “I hate that you make me feel this way. I hate that my body reacts. And I hate it for wanting you.”
My fingers still, my hand still cupping her pussy fully. “Hate me if you must,” I say. “But don’t you fucking dare hate your body.”
“Don’t you hate it too?” she says. “Don’t you hate how you feel?”
“I’m angry at plenty of things. But I hate how much Idon’thate your body, darling. Not even a little bit.”
If only I did. It would make things so much easier. But standing here with her clad only in darkness, her taste still on my mouth and her pussy against my hand… I’ve never wanted anyone more.
Her hands come to rest against my chest. “You still haven’t told me the truth of your hickey.”
Of course she won’t let it go. “Wilde,” I say. I don’t know whether it’s a plea or an apology.I can’t tell you,I think.I can’t.
