Page 120 of The Right Kind of Wrong

“I love to be good for you,” she admitted, the truth in her own words sending shock waves down her spine. “Only you.”

Monroe started fucking her harder. Deeper. She added a third finger at the same time she said, “Only me?”

Blake exploded. The orgasm hurtled through her, no inch of her body untouched by its strength. Nothing existed but the way that Monroe was fucking her, the sensation ballooning out from her pussy, a type of orgasm that she’d never experienced before overtaking her.

“Fuck,” Blake screamed into the night, riding Monroe’s fingers like they were leading her to the promised land. She didn’t care if she woke up the whole goddamn neighborhood. If they felt what she was feeling, they’d understand. “Please don’t stop,” she begged.

“I’ve got you,” Monroe coaxed her, one of her arms tight around Blake’s chest while the other bracketed her thigh, giving Monroe the leverage she needed to keep fucking her hard.

And Blake knew, without a doubt, that Monroe did have her. That she was Monroe’s to do with as she wished. That no one else had even come close to making Blake’s body feel this way.

It was overwhelming, as her orgasm continued to crest in waves, the longing finally fulfilled as she clenched around Monroe’s fingers and continued to cry out with soft, keening moans.

“I’m going to come from those sounds alone,” Monroe whispered in her ear before nipping gently. “Are those for me, too?”

Seeing this side of Monroe was taking things to a whole new level, Blake thought as she realized that the idea of pleasing Monroe was so, so fucking enticing.

She already wanted to make Monroe happy outside of the bedroom, but this was a new door expanding in front of her. She crashed through it without a second thought. “All for you,” Blake moaned, squeezing her thighs as she rode out her orgasm with Monroe filling her.

With a long, trembling moan, she dropped her head back against Monroe’s shoulder and tried to catch her breath.

“You were so good.” Monroe’s voice was soft against her ear, one of her hands coming up to brush lightly against Blake’s forehead. “You were fucking perfect.”

Her limbs felt like jelly. Did she have a spine? She wasn’t sure anymore. All she knew was that she’d been fucked so thoroughly that if Monroe wasn’t holding her up, she’d probably sink to the bottom of the hot tub and drown.

She closed her eyes and felt Monroe’s hands rubbing her arms and her stomach and her shoulders, helping her come back down to earth.

Every time she got one of those little whispers of praise, it sent a little shock to her too-sensitive clit, a purely biological reaction to this new world of knowing that had been opened up inside of her.

Until this moment, with Monroe’s soft breath on her cheek and Monroe’s coaxing sounds in her ear and Monroe’s soft hands calming her, Blake hadn’t realized just how much trouble she was in.

She thought she’d known before, but she’d been wrong.

She knew now, though.

CHAPTER THIRTY

“You gonna tell me what’s goin’ on with you?” Denny asked, sliding into the booth across from Monroe.

They’d come back to Joystick Junction, the downtown arcade, on Friday night. Monroe had needed to get out of the house. Maisie had wanted to get out of the house. And Denny was always up for an adventure.

Last weekend, the bar area hadn’t been open except to serve coffee, but the venue was in full swing now, with the kitchen open along with most of the high-top tables and the few booths at the end of the bar filled with small groups of people.

It was a constant buzz of sound. Buttons smashing. Warning sirens blaring. Lasers zapping spaceships.

None of it was registering, though.

Monroe had way too much to think about to let a rambunctious five-year-old and enough noise to require headphones distract her.

From her vantage point, she could watch Maisie, who was playing—you guessed it—another game involving a gun. This one, though, had her on the hunt for zombies.

She kept an eye on Maisie as she told Denny, “I’m fine. I don’t know why you’re barking up this tree so hard.”

Also, since when had she started saying things like that?

Probably around the same time that she’d started unironically wearing a pair of cowboy boots and saying “howdy” again, like she’d never left Cypress Falls.

Even though she wasn’t looking at him, she could feel his dubious stare. “Bullshit.”