“Stop me,” he whispered. “Please. Tell me you want to stop.”
He was begging me like it was his only way out, but I wasn’t in control any more than he was. How could I tell him to stop? I wanted him to do it. I needed him to. The fire inside me was insatiable.
When fooling around, I’d always been quiet, but Greg made bold and powerful thoughts bubble to the surface. It unhinged the filter on my mouth. “Do it,” I whispered. “I want you to.”
Surprised pleasure snapped through him. “Yeah?”
He didn’t wait for an answer. His fingers curled into a half fist and inched below the lace trim. The hard edges of his fingernails scraped lightly as he raked them down into my panties, working deeper until he found the spot he wanted.
I rose onto the balls of my feet, my flip-flops squealing against the tile.
We both exhaled loudly at the same time. I was wet. So fucking wet, I was drenched, and his chestnut-brown eyes hooded with lust. His other hand went behind my back to support me as he buried his thick fingers beneath my clothes. His touch was pure bliss. I leaned on the island, my elbows slamming into the polished stone counter, and threw my head back until I was staring at the decorative lighting fixture positioned overhead.
I gripped the edge of the counter and moaned as he stirred careful circles over my clit. The tiniest touch from him caused me to flinch and shiver. Ecstasy rocketed up and down my spine like lightning. His mouth was pressed against the side of my neck, and my hair fluttered with his rapid, uneven breathing.
Like last time, I was both feverishly hot and frigid cold. My nipples tightened and protruded through my unlined bra and tank top, as if wanting to be closer to him. It sent me into chaos. The way his skillful fingers stroked and touched me, I was going to melt into a puddle.
It felt dirty, but in a good way. Like when you went off to summer camp and they took you on a mud hike, encouraging you to smear the thick, cold mud on your skin. Years of programming had told me not to get my clothes dirty, but it was freeing when I finally got to let loose.
That was how I felt now about what I was doing.
I reveled in the wrongness of Greg.
I marveled at how perfectly his hands sizzled across my nerve endings and brought me closer to the brink with every twitch. I shook with desire and lust, throwing aside insecurities and rules, and surrendered to my most basic craving. Was I going to come? Panic simmered toward a bubbling boil. I’d only orgasmed a few times with Preston, and I’d felt weirdly embarrassed about it. Enough that whenever it happened, I did my best to stay quiet and not let on. I wasn’t comfortable having him watch me when I was so vulnerable and out of control.
With what Greg was doing now, staying quiet seemed like it’d be fucking impossible. His pace increased, and I swallowed a ragged breath. I was half out of my mind, not even sure I was speaking, or what I was saying. “Oh God, I’m going to . . .”
Greg’s lips moved against the base of my neck, his stubble faintly dragging over my skin. “Mm-hmm,” he mumbled.
Like this had been his master plan, and he was just letting me in on it now. As if he were giving me permission to come, to fall to pieces in his arms.
I did.
And I did it with as quiet of a whimper as I could. I turned my head blindly into him and groaned, letting him hear the ecstasy ripple through my body. His arm around my back tightened at the same instant his fingers stopped moving and pressed against my throbbing clit. It lengthened my pleasure until it was so strong, I could barely breathe.
The orgasm receded, but Greg did not. He held me still and sure, dropping kisses against my parted lips. As the sensation drifted away, I felt both relaxed and twitchy. Anxious with need for something I couldn’t quite figure out. Just wanting . . . more.
I pushed off the counter as his hand withdrew from inside my shorts, and before he could do anything else, I palmed the large bulge straining down one leg of his jeans. Air left his lungs in a burst and his hips moved instinctively, pushing forward into my touch.
I was a tit-for-tat kind of girl with the boys I’d been with. Always reciprocating, even if I wasn’t that into it. But today was decidedly different. I wasn’t touching him out of obligation, I was rubbing his erection through his jeans because I fucking wanted to. My fingers ached to learn the feel of him.