Page 137 of Remy

Yet the thought of her not being here makes me livid. Makes me break out in a cold sweat.

“I’ll never fuck you, Ollie.” I succumb a little more to my addiction, sliding my hand higher, creeping closer toward that sweet spot I’ve jerked off thinking about for months on end, unable to stop myself. I need more. Need everything. But I’ll settle for second best. “I can make you feel good though, if that’s what you want.”

She struggles through a heavy swallow. Nods.

Victory washes over me, the adrenaline in my veins so thick I can taste it. “Say the words, Pyro.”

“Yes,” she rasps. “Please.”

Fuck.

My touch climbs higher, inch by agonizing inch as blood rushes straight to my dick.

I anticipate the feel of her underwear. Soft cotton or silken lace that I can tear right off of her. Only I don’t come in contact with her panties. There’s nothing. My fingers glide from toned thigh all the way to smooth, velvety sex.

She sucks in a shuddering breath, one hand holding her cell against the door, the other quickly moving to grasp the handle for support.

I swipe down her middle with a groan, my fingertips becoming drenched in her pleasure. “You’re so fucking wet.”

She whimpers. “When it comes to you I’m full of toxic responses.”

“Is that right?” I circle her entrance, loving how her head falls back and bangs against the door.

“You make me crave unhealthy things, Remy.”

“Like?”

She shakes her head.

“Tell me.” I glide a finger inside her and she gulps in a sexy breath, increasing my pulse.

She’s tight. Such a mind-numbingly perfect fit for my cock.

I’d have to prep her. Stretch her.

God, she’d feel me everywhere.

“I…” She moans, the sound rumbling off the walls. “I’ve been searching online for things that don’t usually turn me on.”

I keep my mouth shut as a sardonic laugh rumbles in my throat.

I’ve spent weeks reading her internet browser history thanks to the tracking software. But I thought all those porn searches were her fucking with me.

Rough.

Submission.

Breath play.

Sex with dangerous men.

“Do you think of me when you touch yourself?” All sense of playfulness is gone as I slide another finger inside her.

I don’t want her to say yes. Don’t think I can handle knowing we have something else in common.

“I’m not proud of it.” She holds my gaze.

Goddamn.

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