I start at the first entry that had my name sprawled out on the page in blue ink.
“You wanted to kiss me.” I brush my lips over hers for a chaste kiss. “That happened.”
Still blushing, she nods. “Did it ever.”
Since I want more, I go on, “I read that you wanted to feel my fingers on you.”
“On me,” she repeats as a lure for me to say more.
I move so my lips are hovering over her ear. “You want to feel my fingers on your pretty cunt, Faith.”
That lures the softest moan from her. “Oh, my God. Oh, God.”
There it is again. A chant, or perhaps a plea for more. I can’t tell, but I’ll fulfill it, whatever it may be.
“You want that now.” I drop a hand to her waist.
“I want it,” she admits into the skin of my neck.
I barely hear the words, so I ask for more. Call it reassurance to proceed or a selfish need to hear this beautiful woman ask me to touch her in that spot. It’s that spot that I’ve always craved.
The taste, the plush feel, the warmth.
All of it.
“You want what, Faith?” I whisper against her cheek. “Tell me what you want.”
She buries her head closer to me. “I can’t say it.”
“You can,” I insist as I trail my fingers over the waistband of her jeans. “Tell me what you want.”
Her head drops. I know it’s so she can see my hand on her.
The starkness of my tanned skin against the white of her shirt is alarming. My hand is large. Her body, save for her gorgeous tits and ass, is small.
“Say it,” I coax her. “Tell me.”
Her head snaps up, so our eyes meet. “I want you to touch me.”
“On your cunt,” I say the words even though I know they’ll chase her gaze down again.
It does just that. “Matthew.”
I rest my lips against her ear again. Her breathing is staggered. The need is rolling off of her like a building wave.
“You wrote that you want me to slide a hand over your smooth pussy,” I say softly. “Until I feel how fucking wet you are, and then, without warning, I drive a finger into you.”
A small moan escapes her. “Yes.”
“And then another finger until I’m fucking you like that,” I spit out the last four words. “You ride my hand until you can’t take it anymore.”
Her head moves slightly, but it’s not enough for our eyes to meet.
“I fuck you harder with my fingers while I suck on your tit. I roll one nipple between my teeth, biting, sucking, luring you closer to the edge.”
Her hand drops to her stomach. “That’s making me feel…”
“Your pussy is so wet and ready.” I breathe out the words through a groan.
I test the waters by shifting my fingers to the button of her jeans.
I want in.
I want my hand inside of those pants so I can touch her. I need to make her come more than I’ve ever needed anything.
“Then you…” her voice trails as I seamlessly unbutton her jeans.
“Now,” I say. “I want it now.”
“I want it now,” she repeats as the harsh sound of her zipper being yanked down fills the air around us.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Faith
The first touch of his fingers brushing the top of my silk panties sends me into another stratosphere.
It’s pure need driving me to try and help him.
I grab hold of the waistband of my jeans, ready to tug them down so he can sink his fingers into me.
I don’t care that he’s dressed and I’m panting with want.
He takes me in a deep kiss as he trails the top of my panties with his fingers.
His touch is gentle, but I know what’s lurking beneath the surface.
I felt it in his kiss, and I saw it in his eyes.
“Tell me you want this, Faith,” he says the moment our kiss breaks. “Tell me you want my hands on you.”
“I do.” Those two words rush out of me so fast they jumble together. “I do.”
He moves forward again to nip at my bottom lip. “Not here. I want you in my bed. I want you naked. I want to see all of you.”
I want that too.
I inch forward, ready and willing to follow him anywhere.
We both stop when a noise fills the apartment. It’s the unmistakable sound of a phone ringing.
“Fuck,” he spits out as he steps back. “I’m on call tonight.”
My hands drop to my jeans. I do them up in a rush as he sprints across the apartment to where his phone is sitting on the dining room table.
His gaze drops to the screen briefly before the phone is next to his ear. “This is Dr. Hawthorne.”
He doesn’t take his eyes off me as he listens to whoever is on the other end.
“I understand,” he says, skimming a hand over his forehead. “Call Dr. Hunt as well. I’m on my way now.”