Page 158 of Switched

My bare ass is pressed against Scout’s morning wood, and his hand is cupping my right breast, keeping the nipple hard and making me a little bit squirmy.

We might have done nothing but sleep last night, but I’ve woken up with the desire to provoke more of a reaction out of my quietest mate, and the way he’s holding me is going to do more to push him toward claiming me than any obvious move I could have made.

I wriggle against him a little, moaning when his fingers move and my nipple brushes against them.

My slick starts to come in, and I can’t help but rub my ass against the thick column of his shaft.

He lets out a soft moan and his fingers flex, kneading my breast and rubbing my nipple.

“Scout,” I murmur, craning my neck back a little.

He’s still sleeping. Damn.

I move his hand slowly away from my breast, with the intention to turn around and wake him up with chest kisses. His hand slips down and his fingers graze my clit.

Oh my God. I get so much wetter from that one accidental touch, and so damn greedy for more.

“Scout,” I try again, wishing he’d wake up and really touch me.

I want to feel these thick fingers inside me. I want him to stroke my clit until I’m begging him to knot me. I put my hand over his and move it down just slightly.

I gasp out a breath and rock my hips to get more.

“Oh, dear fucking God,” I moan. “Please, Scout, please …”

“Hm?” he murmurs sleepily.

I rock a little harder and he wakes up with a sharp inhale.

“Scout?” I ask, waiting so damn patiently for him to realize what’s happening.

“Sapphire,” he whispers huskily. “Sweetheart, you’re in heat.”

“I know,” I moan. “Please help me, Scout. Please?”

He moves, and it feels like he’s trying to get up and get out of the bed.

What the hell? I keep my hand over his and I tug him back to me.

“You need Gus, or Rueben,” he tells me.

“No, Scout, I need you,” I deny, moving his fingers over my slick coated pussy. “Feel how wet I’ve gotten through the night just lying here in your arms.”

“I did this?” he asks, like he can’t believe it.

Finally, his fingers move on their own, and it feels so much damn better.

“You’re still doing it,” I murmur. “Oh, yes. Right there …”

He strokes slowly, lightly, and it’s agonisingly perfect.

“You’re making me so damn wet.”

“I can feel it,” he whispers, nuzzling into my neck.

“Just a sec,” I tell him, moving my head and arms and getting rid of the oversized shirt I slept in. “Much better.”

I lay back down, and I know I’m ready, for more than just his massive knot.

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