Page 57 of The Betrothal

I tugged her forwards slightly when she stalled. “If it’s about perception, there’s only us here. And no-one here will judge you, not when they all want a part of it.”

The frown deepened but she shook it off. “Ben?”

I waited.

“He’s okay with this?” she finally asked.

“More than.” I offered her my mildly filthy smirk, not wanting to rush her. Don’t fuck it up, Sebastian.

When she went to speak next, she stopped short and then nodded silently.

I knew my eyes widened, maybe comically because she grinned at me.

“Fuck, yeah.”

My hands slid higher up her thighs coming to rest just below her ass, I watched my fingers curl to graze the inside of her legs. Close to her core. When I checked to her face, making sure she was comfortable, her eyes were closed, a pink flush running up her cheeks meeting the silver of her hair. Her rose-coloured lips were parted and she was pulling in shallow breaths. I wanted to lick every pink part of her body.

Rising I lifted her and she squeaked, grabbing me in her panic. I turned us and placed her on the wooden tabletop, my hands sliding to the front of her jogger-clad legs and gently spreading them, I sat back onto the bench, my face now level with hers.

She leaned towards me cautiously and I waited for her. Her tongue darted over her lips, wetting them, then they brushed, so softly, over mine. My grip flexed on her legs and she surged forwards dragging herself to the edge of the table and my thumbs were suddenly running along the crease of her thigh.

She panted against me when pulling my lips away from hers, and I searched for the words. “As much as I want to put on a show.” I did, so badly. “Can we take this to your room?”

She hesitated for less than a second. Her nod had me flying into action, the bench scraping back and hitting the counters I dragged her body into mine and her legs locked around my waist, her body entirely flush against me, her centre sitting just above my waist. I desperately wanted to drag her down over my cock.

I stormed up the stairs and into her room, kicking the door closed behind me I found the bed. The room was mine – sometimes – and I knew the precise layout. And every single space of the room where I wanted to fuck her. And Ben. And watch Ben fucking her – if I was lucky.

Placing her down I reached for her jumper, dragging it over her head to reveal a soft mauve bralette underneath.

Her hands instantly dropped to cover her body and I tutted, no doubt the anger at whoever left her feeling this self-conscious flitting onto my face too quickly.

Reaching behind me with one arm I tugged my t-shirt over my head and her attention snapped to my body, my erection kicked in my joggers at the way she looked at me, but her visible appreciation shifted to worry and her arms tightened around her body more.

“Killer,” I growled, her nervous gaze turned to my face and I let the honesty shine through. My breath was as shallow as hers had been, my eyes would be dilated, my dick was throbbing. Her hold on herself eased and I dropped my hands to her tracksuit bottoms, waiting for permission.

She swallowed and I eased them down, her lifting up so I could shift them past her hips. Throwing them from the bed I looked down on her. The adorable bralette was paired with matching panties, silk with lace edges. My eyes rolled over the curves of her body. I’d seen her in leggings so knew her legs were toned, her thighs thick, the swell of her hips into a curved waist to the fuller bust, a slender neck, the fullness of her lips and the scatter of freckles below her green-brown eyes. She shifted backwards up the bed, curling inwards and creating a little distance and I was going to have none of that shit.

“Are you okay?” The small distance she’d managed felt painfully far but I couldn’t press on without knowing she was okay.

She nibbled her lips and she looked from herself to me.

“Nuh-uh.” I took her hand in mine and I trailed it across my torso, her mouth widened and I caught her trying to pull her legs closer together, I hoped for the friction. No-one ever had me this unsure.

Slowly, I dragged her palm to my crotch, a small moan fell from her parted lips when I cupped her fingers around the hard-on I was sporting. I was embarrassingly hard, and she’d barely touched me. Rolling my hips her hand dragged down the length, something I wasn’t embarrassed by.

“See?” I ground out, dragging in a breath when her fingers flexed, but her other hand remained firmly wrapped around her body.

“Remove your hand, or I will.” She tried to pull her hand from my dick and I chuckled.

“Oh, no, Killer, you know exactly what I mean.”

Snatching her hand away from my raging erection, I gripped her other hand, lifting it from where she used it to hide from me. I raised both her arms away from her body and lowered myself over her, pressing her down into the mattress and pinning her arms over her head, my one hand more than large enough to hold both of hers.

Her warmth and the glancing touches of our skin as I shifted over her had static skittering across my body. Sliding my free hand down her curves to her hip I pinned her. Desperately telling myself not to overwhelm her by driving her into the mattress, I dragged myself over her panties, the ridges of my erection sliding over the silk fabric with ease.

“Understand?” My hips surged forwards and I knew I’d caught her clit just right because her head tilted backwards, mouth opening on a pant.

I released her hip and my stomach tumbled when she lifted hers to continue the friction over her core, with breathless little moans on each roll of her hips.