Then she just had to do her best not to go out of her mind.
She stopped herself from jumping up. Kept her hands from flailing.
Didn’t look at him, in case looking made her do something crazy.
“Oh my god. You can’t be serious. You can’t be serious.”
“Probably wouldn’t take a lot.”
“Ialwaystake a lot.”
“Even when you’re alone?”
“Especially when I’m alone.”
“Well, maybe we should see about that.”
Again, she had the urge to get up. Maybe she even would have, if it hadn’t been for the other things he was doing. The thumb stroking her arm was now the back of his hand, running the length of her arm over and over. And that was his breath against the curve of her throat, so close and warm he could have been kissing her there. Itfeltlike kissing.
Only without the scariness of the real thing.
All of this was without the scariness of the real thing.
It was just a game, that was all—and one that she could win if she really put her mind to it. He thought he could get her so easily, but he was utterly and completely wrong. She was a rock, in the face of whatever he was going to do. She was impervious to the pleasure he seemed to think he was going to dole out, to the point where she almost laughed when he slipped his hand beneath the waistband of those too-big sweatpants.
It was weird. Slightly uncomfortable.
Not sexy in the least.
And then his fingertips just oh-so-lightly grazed the pouting lips of her swollen pussy, and things pretty much started to go downhill from there. The sensation it sent through her was just so intense, and over something so small. He hadn’t even slipped between them to her clit, or eased a finger into her slick little hole. In truth, she wasn’t entirely sure he’d touched her at all.
Yet she still had to clench her jaw.
She had to tell herself that it was just the stuff that had happened before—the film and him coming and then licking his fingers like a satisfied cat. It wasn’t anything to do with this right now, with him touching her, with his skill. He wasn’t skillful at all. He was terrible. Awful.
The worst lover she had ever had.
She had no idea why her thighs were trembling. Or what made her moan when he finally, finally, finally eased his fingers into that slick slit, and then topped it off by telling her just what he found there.
“Ohhhh fuuuuck you are wet. You’re so wet. Jesus Christ, Letty, how can you stand it? How can you sit still and quiet with those eyes closed when your pussy is like this? So slippery I can just glide all the way down and ease on in and oh man, oh man,” he said, and all she could do in response was shiver and make a number of embarrassing noises. First for his words, and then oh god then for thefeelof him doing it.
He used two fingers—two of those long, thick fingers—yet somehow it didn’t hurt when he pushed into her. There was no fumbling or searching. Her body just seemed to open for him, as though they’d dated for years and he’d worked on her for hours. He knew exactly how to touch her there, and when he did she simply had to respond. Her gasp rung out in the small room.
Though she vowed it would be the last one. That was it now—she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of anything else. Not even when he started working his fingers in and out, slow and steady and so unbelievably good she kind of wanted to cry over the unfairness of it. Why washethe one who had to be so good at this? How didheknow how to do it in this deliberate, teasing, tantalizing way?
Even watching him do it was exciting. She made the mistake of glancing down and all she could see was his hand rolling beneath the material, the waistband occasionally stretching to give her a glimpse of her glossy cunt, his gleaming fingers, the way she was spread around that thick intrusion…
Fuck.
She had to look at the screen just to stop herself coming right then and there—though even those measures had an exciting quality of their own. James Spader was just doing something incredibly dull now, while she sat here watching through slitted eyelids, cheeks flushed and legs spread, as a man slowly fingered her slick, flushed pussy. Back and forth, back and forth, until she was so beside herself she wasn’t sure she evenwantedto hold back her moans.
She only knew that she was still trying, for reasons that seemed vague and far away now.It just doesn’t matter,her mind hissed, but she kept it up anyway. She held herself more tightly and bit deep into her lip—deep enough that she tasted blood. And when he started to ease those fingers up, she shut her eyes tight. She thought of other things, more boring things: dry books and bird-watching.
All to no avail. He made one circle around her clit.
Just one tiny, insignificant circle, and that was it.
Her orgasm rolled up from that stiff little bud, in one all-consuming and all-powerful wave. It took away her control over her body—her toes curled tight and her back arched. But most important, it took away her control over her mouth. It let one little word slip out.
