He slips his fingers from my stimulated nerves, withdraws his hand from under my skirt and releases my throat.
Emptiness engulfs me as he slides back against the cushion, giving me back the personal space he violated a few seconds ago.
I blink a few times.
Humiliation and frustration eat at my insides like burning acid.
Humiliation because I almost gave the arsehole my first sexual experience with another person in a damn coffee shop.
Frustration because he stopped. As if he didn’t touch me in the first place.
I don’t know who I should hate more. Myself or him.
I expect him to mock me and this time, I’d freaking deserve it. For a moment, I moaned. For a moment, I ground against him. For a moment, I wanted the depravity the arsehole offered.
Someone kill me.
Aiden keeps the unnerving eye contact as if he’s dissecting my soul, ripping it, and dancing in its remains.
Then he does something that shocks the freaking bejeesus out of me.
He brings his glistening index and middle fingers to his face — the same fingers that almost brought me to the edge — and sucks them into his mouth.
He flicks his tongue along the fingers and does a slow show of licking them clean.
Why is that so… hot?
Even if I want to look away, I can’t. My thighs tighten around my throbbing core and I feel like I’ll explode right here, right now.
After one last lick, he removes his fingers and flicks his tongue around his bottom lip.
I find myself transfixed by that bottom lip. That tongue.
I’m angling towards him against my better judgement.
“Do you realise how long I fantasised about your taste, sweetheart?” he grunts deep in his throat.
Unable to utter a word, I shake my head.
“I fantasised about locking you in a dark classroom, push you on a table, and pull your legs over my shoulders and suck you until you scream. I fantasised about kidnapping you from the track practice and pinning you against the tree in the back and fuck you until you pass out.”
“Aiden… stop...”
His dirty talk provokes a part of me I never thought existed.
His crude words will be the end of me.
It’ll be my damnation.
My descent into hell.
Not if I can stop it.
I place a trembling hand on his chest and I startle at the maddening heartbeat beneath the hot, hard muscles.
He appears so composed and in control that I never thought his pulse would be this… erratic. It’s almost as out of control as my own heartbeat.
“I can’t stop my fantasies, sweetheart.” He wraps his hand around mine that’s on his heart — his black, black heart. “But I won’t tell you the rest of them, do you know why?”