Page 122 of Before I Loved You

“And Paul?”

I look over my shoulder. “Yes, sir?”

“I hope this girl was worth it.”

I don’t hold back the smile when I say, “She’s worth everything, sir.”

twenty-seven

SARAH

Racing into my apartment, I slam the door behind me and lean against it, pressing my palms against the smooth surface, gasping for air.

I’ve never been this horny in my life.

What is wrong with me?

I know there was a part in one of the baby books that said there could be an increase in your libido, but I didn’t think that meant me.

I kick off my heels and struggle to unzip my dress fast enough, darting toward my room. As the fabric of my dress falls around my legs, brushing against my overly sensitive skin, it sends shivers down every square inch of my body. I don’t bother turning the light on as I throw my phone on my nightstand and, in record time, reach behind me to unclasp my bra, letting it drop to the floor.

Freedom!

Jumping on my bed, I shimmy out of my panties as I squirm and moan against the satin sheets. Reaching beside me, I grab Teddy and toss him inside the nightstand drawer.

This is not something he should see.

The aroma of man surrounds me as I turn my head to the side and inhale the scent from Paul’s pillow. Fuck, he smells so damn delicious.

My whole body feels alive. Every nerve ending is zapping with a lustful need that overwhelms me. It’s too much.

And all I need is Paul.

The man who is fifteen hundred miles away from me currently playing a basketball game as we speak.

The man who called me last night to tell me everything was taken care of. That I was free. No longer shackled with that video being held over my head.

Because Paul took care of me.

Like he’s always done.

I just wish he were here to take care of me now.

But alas, I’m going to have to do it myself.

Closing my eyes, my hand glides across my skin over my breasts and hardened nipples down my stomach until finally reaching its destination. I spread my legs as wide as they’ll go and swipe a finger through my wet center, enjoying the slight pressure my body is craving. Needing. Wanting.

I slide a finger inside me, pretending it’s Paul who is making me feel good as he thrusts in and out, kissing every part of my body.

“Mmm, Paul,” I moan.

He always knows exactly what to do to pull an orgasm out of me over and over again, and he doesn’t stop until he knows I’m completely satisfied. Until I’m spent, collapsing into his arms for support.

My finger doesn’t feel like enough, so I add another one, feeling that familiar stretch as I push in and out, but it’s still not satisfying. I groan in frustration and pound faster inside myself, begging my body to give me the release I need.

Think of Paul’s tongue swiping over you.

Think of Paul’s lips sucking on you.

---