Page 146 of Sexting His Assistant

“They can suffer.”

A breathless laugh slips out of her, and I cover it with my mouth, kissing her as I add a second finger. She clenches around me immediately. I move my thumb over her clit and feel her entire body react.

“Luka.”

“Quiet.”

“You are the one who⁠—”

I curl my fingers.

She stops speaking.

Her head drops forward against my chest. I keep my bad shoulder back, my good hand working between her thighs, my mouth near her ear. Her body starts moving in tiny, helpless shifts, trying to get more without making noise.

I like that too much.

“Look at me,” I say.

She shakes her head.

“Nina.”

Her eyes lift.

There’s anger there still. Need too. Fear of being discovered. Fear of wanting me this much when things are already complicated enough.

I rub her clit harder.

Her lips part.

I kiss her before she can make a sound.

She comes against my hand, shaking hard, one hand gripping my shirt and the other clamped over my forearm. I hold her steady on the counter and keep kissing her until the worst of it passes.

But she’s not done yet. My fingers keep skimming over her clit languidly, and she whimpers quietly.

She gasps and grabs my wrist. “Wait.”

I stop.

Her eyes meet mine. “I don’t want your fingers.”

That does something to me.

“What do you want?”

Her answer is quiet and direct. “You.”

I kiss her once, then take my hand away and open my trousers with more urgency than grace.

I wince slightly.

“You’re bleeding again, I swear⁠—”

“I’m not.”

“You don’t know that.”