She honestly didn’t know why she said nothing in reply. What made her bury her head in the pillow and cover it over with both arms. She only knew what he did in response: redoubled his efforts. No teasing here—he slipped that hand under the waistband of her jeans, and immediately searched out her clit. Found it and rubbed in tight circles until she kind of wanted to scream.
In fact, shedidscream, when his other hand squirmed beneath her body.
Partly because he cupped and squeezed her right breast, fingers pulling at her stiff little nipple.
But mostly because she knew why he really did it.
Not to please her. Not to make her come faster.
He just wanted to fondle her there. He wanted to know what it was like—she was sure of it. And the second he found out, something seemed to shift in him. Suddenly he wasn’t so focused on getting her off, hard and fast. It was like he wanted something from this, too, bad enough that he almost just said it right out loud.Fuck I bet that pussy feels so good when you sink right in, so tight and hot and wet, Jesus,he groaned, as he dipped those maddening fingers down and into her. Savoring the feel of her, she thought, before he returned to her clit.
Only now the memory of those words was behind it.
His rough breathing, his hoarse tone, the very idea of him pushing that big, thick cock into her. He would definitely fill her if he tried it. He filled her with his fingers, and they were half the size. And God, how would he be as he took her like that? He seemed half gone now, even though both of them were still fully dressed and barely touching. Surely if they were stripped, and sweating, and heaving together, things would be even more intense? They had to be, and yet…
When he shoved her jersey just a little way up, she still flinched.
She still thought of her belly, even though he could barely see it. She was mostly on her side and he barely lifted the thing, yet the feeling was there. And it stayed there, eating at her, until it became clear what he was doing. His hand left her breast and she felt him shift a little so he could get at his zipper, and then the room was abruptly filled with the most glorious sound on the face of the earth.
His hand, on his cock.
That was why he had done it: so he could do just what they’d both fantasized about. He wanted to coat her with his come, to the point where he could barely contain himself. His breath was coming in short, desperate gasps and those fingers on her clit were suddenly sloppy. But it didn’t matter. She was already going over, just hearing him. Then the first hot ribbons striped her back, and she was there, oh god she was there.
Her clit all but burst against his still-working fingers, the bliss so intense she couldn’t quite take it. She had to get away from it, but when she tried she found there was nowhere to go. He seemed to have her pinned, one hand now on her shoulder and the other so firm between her legs she couldn’t possibly escape. She just had to lie there, as the pleasure went on and on and on.
It clenched every muscle in her body, tight as a fist. Soaked his hand, in a way that would have been embarrassing—if she’d been able to care. In that moment, she couldn’t. She didn’t. All she could do was grunt and jerk like an animal, as he eked every last drop of sensation out of her.
She was crying, by the time he had finished.
Sobbing, in fact, though she tried to hide it. She put her face in the pillow and feigned exhaustion, sure that in a second he would get up and go to the bathroom. Then she could wipe her face and tidy herself, as if none of this had ever happened. Not give him the chance to be weird about her having feelings—because she was sure he would be. He might even start to put distance between them. Maybe throw in a few snide remarks until she got the right idea about what they were doing here.
They were just fucking.
Not even fucking, really.
Accidentally being super filthy with each other—andthat was all. That was all, she told herself, as he tenderly cleaned her up. That was all, she told herself, as he slipped an arm around her waist.
That was all, she told herself, as he whispered against the nape of her neck.
“That’s the only reason I ever want you to cry, from now on.”
Chapter 16
She knew he wasn’t looking at his books. She knew like she’d known the last time they sat across from each other in the library, only this was so much worse. Now they were at the point where things needed to be said. He was quite possiblywaitingfor her to say them. The only issue was, she had no idea what any of the words actuallywere.
If she laughed about it, he might think she was dismissing the whole thing. Mocking him somehow, only to find he was deadly serious. However, telling him that she had enjoyed the previous night—with the movie and the…other things—was just as bad. What if he thought she was desperate for him somehow? He might try to let her down gently—an idea that set her cheeks ablaze. She almost got up and walked right out, just thinking about it.
And probably would have done, if it wasn’t for the note.
The one he slid over the pages of the book she wasn’t reading.
I want to make you moan like that again.
No confusion, no way to misinterpret, no pretense. Just a direct statement in bold black, each letter printed clearly and carefully so there could be no mistaking. This was what he wanted, and he wasn’t going to hide it anymore. Sometimes she wasn’t even sure if he’d been hiding before. It had just been easier to think he was, or to imagine it was all just some accident they’d stumbled into.
And suddenly she couldn’t do those things anymore.
He’d taken them away from her, and now all that was left was…
