“I see.” I rub the side of my jaw, trying to maintain my composure because now she’s really fucking irritated me. I’m a pretty chill guy and can joke with the rest of them. I prefer it, actually, but this conversation has grated on my nerves. It’s not only insulting to me, but it’s degrading to her. She’s so goddamn hot, it’s painful being near her and not being able to make a move.
But that very well might change tonight.
I lean in and rest my hand on her bare thigh, sliding it inwardly as I say into her ear, “For your information, from the moment I first met you, I’ve wanted to fuck you. Don’t believe it if you want”—my lips graze her ear—“but it’s fucking true. Those lips of yours, I’ve wanted to own them. Your tits, I’ve wanted to worship. And your pussy, I’ve wanted to taste it.” Her breath hitches as I allow my thumb to move across her silky skin. “Every time I’ve run into you, every time I’ve made eye contact with you, or anytime I’ve been close enough to smell your perfume, I’ve thought about all the dirty, naughty, delicious things I could do to you. Dreamed about it. Wondered what it would be like to have you riding my cock, your tits bouncing near my face, your pussy pulsing against my length. So don’t for one goddamn moment think what I said was a joke. I’d never joke about fucking you . . . ever.”
And with a nip to her earlobe, I pull away and drag my hand off her thigh before grabbing my drink and lifting it to my lips. The whole time, I keep my eyes on her.
Cheeks flushed.
Lips parted in shock.
And her chest is actually heaving just as her eyes slowly lock in on mine.
“I . . . uh . . .” She wets her lips as her face registers shock. I can only imagine what’s going through her mind. Hell, I wasn’t expecting to lay out my desires for her like that, but she irritated me, and I needed, at that moment, for her to understand the truth. To understand the torture I’ve endured ever since I met her. Finally, she finds her voice. “I . . . uh, I was told I’m bad at sex.”
What the fuck?It’s really loud in here tonight, so I must have heard her wrong. Surely, she didn’t suggest someone told her she was a lousy lay. But looking at her face, at what looks like utter mortification, maybe I did hear her right. “Penny, did you just say—”
“I know I claimed earlier that I was good, a decent roll in the sheets, but that was a lie to save face. My last boyfriend said I was bad, so . . . you know, just thought that might help your fantasies. No good over here. A no-fly zone for pulse-pounding sex. Sorry.”
Bad at sex?
Some dipshit told her she was bad at sex?
Who the fuck says that to a woman?
The only reason a man would say that is becausehe’sthe one who’s actually bad at sex and is placing the blame on someone else so he doesn’t have to face reality.
Anger pumping through my veins, I say quietly as I close the space between us, “I don’t believe that for one goddamn second.” I reach up and push a stray piece of hair behind her ear, lingering at her cheek. “Let me ask you this. Did he ever make you orgasm?”
Visibly uncomfortable, she shifts on her stool. “Well, when I assisted him.”
“Assisted him?” I ask, intrigued with exactly how she would do that.
“You know, if I massaged myself while he thrust into me from behind.”
The image of her playing with her clit while being fucked runs through my head like a goddamn motion picture on the big screen. I can see it, feel it, but instead of some fuckup behind her, it’s me, and the only reason she’s playing with her clit is because I demanded that she did, not because she needed it.
I’msoturned on. Facing her, I rest my feet on the rungs of her stool and place my hand on her back, closing her between me and the high-top table. “Did you have to do that every time? Massage yourself?”
She doesn’t look at me. She averts her eyes to her drink where she plays with the condensation, dragging her perfectly manicured finger over the dewy droplets. “You know, we don’t have to talk about this. What about, uh . . . your birthday. Get any good presents?”
“Not yet,” I answer. “But I’m hoping I’ll get a really good one by the end of the night.”
Her eyes shoot to mine, and I hold her gaze, letting her know how fucking serious I am.
She’s off limits.
I’ve been warned.
And I’ve kept my distance.
But there’s something about tonight. Something driving me closer and closer to her, and no matter how many times I try to conjure up Pacey’s angry face or threatening words, they’re quickly washed away by my desperation.
I. Want. Her.
Need. Her.
Bad.
