Page 137 of The Right Kind of Wrong

Monroe looked between them, entranced, wondering if Blake would go inside. If she’d fuck herself while Monroe was lucky enough to watch.

She’d never considered herself an especially lucky person, but she sure felt like one right now, even with just the possibility.

The idea sent an incredible thrill through her, sparks racing across her skin.

“Yes,” she bit out, finding it hard to breathe. “Exactly like this.”

But who needed air when she had Blake swirling her fingers around her own cunt, teasing at the edges? Blake let out a soft, satisfied moan. “I do like pleasing you,” she said, and Monroe’s stomach swooped low.

She played with herself for another few seconds before bringing her soaking fingers up to Monroe’s mouth and running them across her lips.

“Fuck,” Monroe groaned out, which allowed Blake to slip a finger inside her mouth. “You taste incredible. Oh my god, Blake.”

She lapped at the juices on Blake’s fingers, running her tongue along every single one to lick them clean.

Monroe didn’t know if her pussy had ever ached this much. She slid her hand down to seek some relief, only to be met with a level of wetness that was entirely new to her. She was already dripping down her thigh and worried briefly about ruining Blake’s couch.

Blake rubbed a finger along Monroe’s lip, and she was like putty in Blake’s hands. Whatever she wanted, it was hers.

Monroe had thought it the first time that they’d slept together, and it was still true now.

Maybe even more so, even though that first time had only happened a week ago.

Which felt crazy to think about.

And maybe she would have delved into it more seriously if she hadn’t needed to find relief. She was going to die if she didn’t come, with the way that Blake had started moving on top of her. Blake had slid her hand back between her legs, and she was slowly, sensually dragging her hips against Monroe’s thighs.

When Monroe tried to rub at her aching clit, Blake’s hand wrapped around her wrist. “I don’t think so,” she told her with certainty.

And god, if that demanding tone didn’t cause the heat to roll through Monroe.

“You wanted to watch me.” Blake’s other hand dragged Monroe’s chin up, forcing her stare upward. “So watch me.”

Monroe felt those words in her clit. On every inch of her skin. On the places deep inside of her that she never opened up.

Under Blake’s intense stare, as she let out a loud moan and slid down against her own fingers, Monroe felt like she was cracking wide open.

“You make me feel confident, Monroe,” Blake said, and Monroe’s mouth began watering, knowing what it felt like to have Blake stretched around her fingers. Blake, at this moment, was experiencing that for herself.

And it was all for Monroe, who was still possibly on the verge of dying. She didn’t know how long she could go without a few purposed strokes to alleviate the ache spreading from her pussy, radiating outward and making her limbs feel like they weren’t attached to her body.

Nothing felt real except for Blake on top of her, fucking herself so that Monroe could watch.

“Please, Blake. Please,” she groaned, knowing that her fingertips were digging possibly too hard into Blake’s hips.

Blake had discovered her power—at Monroe’s behest, no less—and she was running full steam ahead, leaving Monroe a soaking, incoherent mess.

“Do you want to touch yourself, Monroe?” Blake asked, her voice sharp but wanting as she continued her slow, torturous rolls across her lap.

“Yes. I’m so fucking turned on, Blake. You’re driving me crazy.” Monroe looked into Blake’s eyes, hooded with her own want, and she felt Blake start to move faster above her.

“Touch yourself, Monroe, knowing that this is all for you.”

Her fingers found her clit so quickly, her moan racking her and escaping her throat only seconds later.

Still fucking herself, Blake slid forward so that her hand pressed against Monroe’s, the two of them working in tandem.

Fuck.