Page 25 of Blueline Baby

Her hand has been resting on my thigh for a while. Which is fine. Which is great. But then it starts to move. Casually. Like it’s a total accident that her fingers keep drifting higher while she stares straight ahead at a car chase she is absolutely not watching.

I let it go on longer than I should, entirely because it feels good and I want to see how far she’ll actually take it. Her hand slides up another inch.

“Chloe,” I warn her.

“Mm?” Her eyes are still glued to the screen. The picture of total innocence.

I catch her chin, turn her face to me, and kiss her slowly. When I pull back an inch, I keep her right there. “What exactly are you trying to do?”

Her mouth curves into a slow smile. “I’m trying to see your Stanley Cup.”

And any plan I had to take this slow is entirely gone.

I lower my head and kiss her again. She comes up onto her knees and straddles my lap. We go from zero to a hundred in about four flat seconds. I slide a hand under the hem of her shirt, pressing my palm flat against the small of her back. She shivers, grinding down onto me.

“This okay?” I ask it against her mouth.

She’s already pulling at the collar of my shirt. “Off.”

My shirt comes off. Hers follows. Then we’re skin to skin, and she’s incredibly soft and warm against my chest. I bury my face at the curve of her ear and brush my lips along her neck.

“You’ve been driving me out of my absolute mind with your hand all night,” I murmur. “Sitting there looking so innocent while you tease me.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Her voice is breathy. Playful.

“No?” I drag my teeth along her jaw. She gasps, her hips rolling against me. “Then let me be specific. You’ve been trying to get me to touch you all night. Now you’re grinding on my lap and playing innocent?” My hand slides up to cup her breast. “I can feel how bad you want it, baby. Say it. Tell me exactly what you want me to do.”

She lets out a quiet whimper, too far gone for any of her clever comebacks. It’s the hottest fucking sound I’ve ever heard.

“That’s okay,” I murmur, kissing down her throat. “I already know. I’m gonna take these jeans off you, and I’m gonna take my time with every inch. I’m gonna have you saying my name loud enough that Jude bangs on the wall. All night, if you want it. That work for you?”

“Yes,” she breathes, her fingers digging into my shoulders. “God, yes.”

It’s when I get her jeans open and slide my hand under the waistband that I feel her tense up a bit. I stop. I keep my hand exactly where it is, pulling back to look at her.

“Hey. Look at me.” She does. She's glazed and flushed and a little unsure, and I’d rather die than push her an inch past where she actually wants to be. “Is this your first time?”

“No,” she says, quick and embarrassed. “It’s not, no.”

“Okay. But it’s not something you do a lot, either. Right?”

She shakes her head. My chest goes soft and fierce all at once, because she’s trusting me with this and I am absolutely not going to be a guy who just takes and leaves.

“Then we’ll go slow,” I say. “And you tell me the second it’s too much and I stop, no matter where we are. Say you understand.”

“I understand.” She pauses, then says, a little bratty, “Are you going to talk the whole time, or are you actually going to⁠—”

I cut her off, kissing her hard, and I can literally feel her smile against it. “Oh, I’m going to talk the whole time. You’re going to be sick of my voice when I’m done.”

I lay her back against the pillows and go slow like I promised. My mouth is at her ear the whole way, whispering every filthy, sweet thing that comes to my mind.

“Look at you,” I say when she gasps at the first slow stroke of my fingers. “This pretty pussy is soaked all the way for me, baby.” She fists a hand in the sheets. I press harder, circling, teasing. “Don’t hold your breath. I want to hear you. Every sound you’ve got.” She gives me a real moan and I nearly lose it myself. “Good girl. You’re so fucking gorgeous.”

She stops being embarrassed almost immediately. I learn every specific place that makes her thighs tremble. I find the exact rhythm that has her gasping my name. I chase it patiently until she’s shaking, entirely past the point of anything but need.

“That’s it,” I tell her when I feel her start to tighten around my fingers. “Let go. I’ve got you. Come on my fingers, Chloe.”

She does. She comes hard, her back arching off the bed as she pulses tightly around me. I hold her through it, murmuring against her skin until the shaking stops and she’s completely boneless and glowing beneath me.