“Why? Do you torture them with your cheesy lines?” I finally get my mojo back. His lips curl up more wolfishly.
“Is that how I made you scream before, Buttercup?”
Color floods my cheeks. I feel it like a wash of heat. Damn English skin.
Dammit. Dammit! Dammit!
His head dips, and for a second, I’m frozen, expecting his lips to brush mine. They don’t. But I let out an almighty shriek. I don’t care who’s outside. Somebody’s got to be listening. Except the hand on my cheek suddenly snaps around and clamps over my mouth. My eyes fly wide, and I’m gasping against a palm that has my breath hissing through my nostrils.
With that hand over my lips, he presses closer, and it takes everything in me not to crumple away from him. I feel his free hand slide down my arm and then cup one of my breasts through the satin. I make a sound in the back of my throat as he grazes a fingernail over my satin-covered nipple. The sensation is like an electric shock that shoots straight to my clit, and when he keeps making the small motion, I shudder.
“If I take my hand away, will you still scream?” he says softly. The noise I make comes out as a groan. “Or let me guess…” He lowers his face until his lips brush my ear. “You don’t want me to take my hand away…”
Oh, Jesus! Why? Why is my body doing this to me?
I squeeze my eyes shut, afraid he’ll see the answer in them. Afraid he’ll see the disappointment there when he stops taunting my nipple. Except his fingertips don’t stray from me…they slide down my ribcage and over my hip to a place at my thigh where my dress has been slit up the side. The feeling of his hand on my bare skin has me groaning again, and he chuckles.
“What am I going to find when I reach that pretty pussy, Buttercup?” His hand slides between my thighs and moves up, pushing my dress up with it. “Will you be wet for me again, I wonder?”
I squeeze my legs tightly shut, but there’s no stopping that roving hand. When it reaches the lace of my panties, another dark chuckle has me cringing. I know he’s feeling damp fabric. I’m surprised it’s not trickling down my legs by now. Fingers slip past the elastic, and my nostrils flare as he slides them over my throbbing clit.
God! I need professional therapy for the level of fucked up I am right now. But I can’t help it. When he slides a foot between my ankles and shoves them apart, I barely resist. With my skirt bunched around my waist and my knees spread wide, all that’s saving me from total exposure is a stupid scrap of white lace. And a brisk jerk of his hand has that stripped from me in a second.
“Open your eyes,” he says. I shake my head, then flinch when he pinches my clit sharply. Wet streams from me. God help me, I can fucking feel it cooling on my thighs. “I said open your eyes.”
Reluctantly, I stare up into his, my lips still mashed against his palm.
“Watch,” he tells me, then leans back, staring down between us. Pressure on my chin has my head dipping forward. I groan again as I watch him slide two fingers into me. If the glistening on his skin wasn’t enough of a giveaway, the wet sucking sounds my body is making leave no doubt about the effect he’s having on me.
And then, he fucking does it… The palm over my mouth angles around, and he uses his fingers to pinch my nostrils shut. Shock jolts through me like a lightning bolt, and I surge against him. He presses me back with a massive forearm, the fingers in me thrusting almost hard enough to take me off my feet. I clutch at the lapels of his jacket, the heel of my shoe connecting with the vanity behind me as I kick out spasmodically.
Fuck! Holy fuck!
I’d be screaming the words out now, except there isn’t anything getting past that huge hand. For long moments, he keeps me watching his slick fingers pumping into me. Until he’s easing my head back up, forcing me to stare into his eyes again.
Dying!
Jesus…I’m fuckingdyingas the sensations flame through me. The heat in my cunt is flooding up to meet the burn in my chest, where starved lungs are beginning to scream for air.
“Not yet…” he says, ignoring my frantic clawing at the front of his jacket. His thumb speeds up on my clit, and he pushes a third finger into me. My stomach muscles begin to spasm as I buck against him. “Not yet,” he repeats. I’m seeing stars…dark spots around the edge of my vision as his fingertips reach a point deep within me and press down.
I can’t…I can’t… Need…
Oh God, I don’t know what I need more now – air or the pleasure he’s taunting me with.
But air… Air..!
My grip on his jacket begins to grow weaker an instant before he jerks his hand from my mouth.
“Now!” he says into my ear…and I shatter. Oxygen meets orgasm in an almighty crash that has me screaming out a silent wail of ecstasy. My knees buckle. All that’s holding me up is his forearm on my chest and those fingers that are still working me. When he pulls them out of me, I feel myself start to sink. I don’t stop until I’m kneeling on the carpeted floor at his feet.
He stares down at me for a moment as I keep gasping. His fingers raise to his mouth as he sucks the gleaming juices from them. And then he calmly wipes his hands on a tiny white scrap of fabric that I realize are my ruined panties.
“I want my ring back, Buttercup.” He tucks the scrap into his top pocket. “Or next time, I won’t give you that next breath.”
Without another word, he turns and leaves the room.
Chapter 8
