“Tell me who you think of when you touch yourself.”
She shakes her head again.
“I’m getting awfully tired of your defiance, Fiona. You won’t let me kiss you, and you won’t be honest with me. What the hell am I getting in this bargain?”
“My body. You’re getting my body,” she says, her jaw clenched.
“Seems like a bad deal.” I brush the tip of my middle finger over her G-spot. She arches her back, but the knot of tension inside her doesn’t break. I know her body. As responsive as she is, she struggles to go over the edge without some hard and relentless pushing. The first orgasm is always elusive for her, although the subsequent ones are easier.
“Bryce,” she moans softly, then bites her lip to contain the rest of her plea.
“My questions weren’t that difficult.” I rip the scrap of lace that passes for underwear and inhale and exhale softly over her folds. She smells like soap and woman and lust, making my mouth water.
She writhes, fisting the sheets. I take her hand and wrap it around my cock. As I thrust into the soft sheath, I feel like the top of my skull is about to blow off.
This is what I should focus on—the raw, physical lust. Once I sate myself, I can forget her and walk away. Shed her and our past like a snakeskin.
Her pussy clenches and unclenches around my fingers. Nice, but it’ll be better around my dick. My eyes land on a box of condoms on the nightstand, and my control starts to go.
I grab one, then sheathe myself. She licks her lips, her eyes full of expectation. Gripping her wrists, I use my knees and spread her thighs as wide as possible. Her throat works as she looks up at me. The green-gold of her eyes is so dark, I feel like I could dive into their depths and never come back up.
I dip my cock into her opening. A groan wells in my throat. Holy shit, she’s so slick and hot. My blood boils. I half expect to see steam coming out of my pores.
I keep my thrusts shallow and steady, building a rhythm and slowly stretching her. She moans with bliss. She used to love being stuffed, but this isn’t going to be enough.
Suddenly, I ram into her hard. The pleasure burns under my skin, tightens my balls as my flesh slaps against hers. Her pussy clamps down on me, but I change my angle to avoid hitting all the good spots inside her.
“Noooo,” she sobs. “Don’t… Please.”
“Sweetheart, you know what I want. Put that mouth to good use. Kiss me or answer my questions.” Although Fiona can be surprisingly bold, she can also be shy, especially when I ask her to verbalize her needs. It was always one of her most endearing contradictions, and I’m going to use it now.
Before the night’s over, she’s going to kiss me like she used to. I know it’ll be fake—only done for an orgasm, not because she has any feelings for me—but for some inexplicable reason it seems significant. Maybe I just need to feel like I’m more than a nice, hard cock.
I push into her again and again, deep and hard, continuing to edge her. God, she feels amazing. I could do this all night. Whatever drug was in the whiskey makes it impossible for me to lose my erection for more than a moment. And with Fiona sweet and soft in my arms, I don’t think I’ll ever go limp.
The selfish part of me says I should come, while denying her, since I’ll be erect again soon. But I don’t want to. We should both be in sexual purgatory, teetering on the brink.
“Bryce… You asshole,” she says between gritted teeth.
“Not the right word, sweetheart.” I rest my head in the crook of her neck and bite the skin there. “You know what you need to do.” I pull her earlobe into my mouth and nip. “Kiss me and you can come.”
“No.”
“I can do this all night, probably into tomorrow, too.”
She lets out a panicked breath. “What did you do?”
“Got fed some kind of drug. But it’s pretty good, eh?” I chuckle dryly at the ridiculous non-joke. It’s so ironic how two women I loved the most backstabbed me the hardest, when I least expected.
“Not funny. Damn it, Bryce…” She rolls her hips.
I let her. She’s positioned herself so I’m grazing against her clit, but it won’t be enough. It’ll only make her more desperate.
She squeezes her eyes shut, panting. I flick my thumb over her nipple with each thrust. She arches her back, moving wantonly against me for more. She’s gorgeous when she’s chasing her pleasure.
Her eyebrows pinch as her mouth firms. She’s made a decision. My mouth curves into a victorious smile, and I wait for her to lift her head and kiss me like she means it—like she still cares, even if only a little.
“I can get wet when I think of your naked body and how you look when you’re hard. It’s dangerous but exciting,” she says, her voice low and husky.
