“You’re so fucking wet for me already,” he growls, his voice dropping to a register that vibrates through my core. “I knew it. I knew you’d be like this underneath all that artistic restraint.”
My head falls back as his finger circles my clit with the perfect pressure, like he’s known my body for years instead of minutes.
“Look at me,” he commands, and I force my eyes open, meeting his gaze as his middle finger slides inside me. “I want to see your eyes while I make you fall apart.”
His thumb continues working circles on my clit while his finger curls forward, finding the spot that makes my hips buck involuntarily.
“You’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you?” His mouth is at my ear now, his voice dark as sin. “Touching yourself while thinking of my hands. Did you imagine I’d touch you like this tonight?”
“Yes,” I gasp, unable to lie as a second finger joins the first, stretching me deliciously.
“Such a dirty fucking mind.” He bites my earlobe, making me whimper. “I bet those patterns you see everywhere include all the ways you want to be fucked.”
I should be offended. Should push him away for being so crude. Instead, I’m grinding against his hand, chasing the pressure building inside me.
“Tell me what you want,” he demands, his fingers stilling inside me.
“Don’t stop,” I plead.
“Tell me exactly what this pretty cunt needs.” His thumb brushes my clit so lightly it’s almost torture.
“Harder,” I whisper, then louder when his fingers remain motionless. “Fuck me harder with your fingers.”
The filthy words are foreign to me, but they ignite something in him. His fingers drive into me with new urgency, the heel of his palm grinding against my clit with each thrust.
“That’s it. Show me how fucking desperate you are.” Hisfree hand tangles in my hair, pulling my head back to expose my throat to his mouth. “I’m going to make you come so hard you forget how to breathe.”
His rhythm is relentless, fingers curling inside me and hitting the perfect spot while his palm grinds against my clit. The pleasure builds so quickly it’s almost frightening—a tsunami rather than a wave.
“Let me feel you come apart,” he growls against my throat.
His teeth scrape my pulse point, and something about the slight pain mixed with pleasure pushes me over the edge. My orgasm crashes through me with shocking force. I’m vaguely aware that I’m crying out, my body clenching around his fingers as wave after wave of pleasure washes over me.
“Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, continuing to coax me through each aftershock.
When I finally stop trembling, he withdraws his hand. My eyes flutter open just in time to see him bring his glistening fingers to his mouth. Without breaking eye contact, he slides his fingers between his lips, sucking them clean with an expression of such raw hunger that I feel myself clench again with renewed desire.
“Sweet,” he says, his voice rougher than before. “With a hint of something wild underneath.”
The way he’s looking at me—like I’m a revelation, like he’s discovered something precious and rare—makes me feel both powerful and utterly vulnerable.
“I knew you’d taste like that,” he tells me, tracing my lower lip with a thumb still damp.
I should feel embarrassed—I’m half-naked, my dress rucked up around my waist, my underwear soakedthrough. But all I feel is a strange, electrical current running through me, connecting us.
He leans forward, capturing my mouth with his. The kiss is slower and deeper than the first, but there’s still that same savage intensity, tempered with something that feels dangerously like possession.
I taste myself on his tongue and moan into his mouth, my hands clutching at his shoulders.
When we finally break apart, I’m dizzy, my lips swollen from his kisses, my body still humming with aftershocks.
Gabe glances at his watch and frowns. “It’s late. Let me call you an Uber.”
I want to protest, to tell him I’m not ready to leave, but he’s already reaching for his phone. The knowledge that I’d let him do anything—anything at all—right now frightens me enough to stay silent.
He orders the car with a few taps, then helps me straighten my dress. A perfect gentleman. His fingers linger against my skin, leaving trails of heat everywhere they touch. We walk through the empty club, his hand resting on the small of my back, guiding me toward the exit.
Outside, the night air hits my flushed skin like a shock. The street is quiet, empty except for a few parked cars. A notification dings on his phone—the Uber is three minutes away.
