Page 28 of Tell Me Something True

He chuckled, deep and dark and rich. “Greedy girl.” He moved his hands to her inner thighs, pressing against them until she widened them. “Prove to me how eager you are.”

Proof. That was what he wanted. Proof she was being honest. Proof she wasn’t putting on some kind of show. That she wasn’t playing a character.

Proof her desire for him was real.

Her chasing after him, following him home, stripping naked in front of him and doing everything he said wasn’t enough. And a tiny part of her brain warned her that no matter how much she gave him, it never would be.

But he was right. She was greedy. Greedy for his time. His attention. His touch.

Pathetically grateful for whatever scraps of those he gave her.

She moved again, sliding up. Then down. Again and again. Each time a little faster. A little harder.

He grunted, rough and satisfied.

And he finally, finally feasted on her.

He worked her with the flat of his tongue, lapping her pussy like it was his favorite dessert. Twirled the tip of it around her clit. It was what she’d been craving. What she’d worked so hard for.

Her hips pumped as she rode his face, pleasure building in a seemingly endless circle.

He scraped his teeth against her and she moaned, raw and ragged. Arched her back as she pressed against him more. Her hands hurt from gripping the back of the couch so tightly. The hair at her temples was damp with sweat. Her breath was coming in short, quick gasps.

He continued to lick and suck at her hungrily, his mouth and tongue and teeth bringing her closer and closer…

Closer… and closer…

But it wasn’t enough. And it didn’t matter that she knew he was holding back on purpose. It didn’t matter that she was rutting against him. It didn’t matter that she’d never worked this hard for an orgasm.

It didn’t matter that she told herself she wouldn’t beg.

“Miles,” she whimpered. “Please… please…”

She’d no sooner gotten the second please out when he shoved two fingers inside her and she cried out, the invasion sudden and so very, very welcome, stretching her in the most delicious way. He finger fucked her hard and fast, the wet, sloppy sounds of his fingers plunging in and out of her surrounding them. The silk of her panties still wrapped around his hands rubbing against her inner thighs.

“Please… please… please…” she chanted, breathless and desperate and beyond caring about anything except her building orgasm. “Please…”

He latched his mouth onto her clit and she moved against him, short, sharp thrusts, taking those fingers deeper. Pushing against them harder. Tossing her head back, arching her back even more, she came with a wail, her body clenching around his fingers as pleasure built from her core and rushed through her body like a tidal wave. It was too hard. Too much. She couldn’t ride it, couldn’t stay afloat. All she could do was let it wash over her again and again until she was left a gasping, trembling mess.

She was still shaking from the aftereffects when he pulled his fingers free. “Don’t move.”

That, at least, was an easy order to obey. She was incapable of movement. Of thought. She let her head hang, her hair hiding her face as she fought to catch her breath.

To convince herself this wasn’t one of the biggest mistakes she’d ever made.

He slid out from beneath her, and she turned her head. He looked completely unaffected, facing her with his perfect cop posture, his hair barely mussed from his endeavor between her legs. Holding her gaze, he used the back of his pantie-wrapped hand to wipe her moisture from his mouth.

She shifted her other knee onto the couch, hyper aware of the uneven power dynamic between them. Him with his slow and steady breathing. Her panting and trembling.

Him calm and cool. Her flushed and sweaty.

Him fully dressed and completely closed off. Her naked and exposed.

He undid the button of his jeans, then slowly dragged down the zipper before shoving them and boxer briefs down far enough for his cock to spring free. He was long and thick and so hard, the veins of his dick stood out in sharp relief.

Not so unaffected after all.

Jaw clenched, he stroked himself, and she couldn’t tear her eyes from the sight of his panty-wrapped hand moving up and down on his cock. He rubbed the pad of his thumb around the tip, gathering the moisture there, then swirling it around the head of his cock.

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