Page 138 of Remy

“Do you want to know how many times I’ve fucked my hand thinking about you, my pretty little Pyro?”

She shakes her head. Adamant.

I lean close, my mouth near her ear. “Good. Because I’ve already lost count.”

She shudders everywhere—shoulders. Thighs. Breath.

It’s too much.

Too tempting.

If life were simple, I’d give her everything she wanted. Rough touches. Tangled, sweaty limbs. I’d show her the danger she craves, as long as I’d also be able to savor her. To cherish and revere.

I’d create the perfect balance. Make her scream and beg. Demand and plead.

She’d never leave the fucking bedroom.

If only she wasn’t her and I wasn’t me.

I curl my fingers inside her with each gentle intrusion, slowly increasing the pace.

Her lips part. Her inhale stutters.

I lean close, nuzzling into her neck. “Tell me how it feels.”

“So good.” Her moan is guttural. “God, I could come already.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“I don’t want this to end.”

“You might want to think twice about that. If this drags out much longer I’ll have no choice but to palm my cock. I bet one stroke is all it will take to have me making a mess of you.”

She falls quiet.

I pull back, meeting her wide eyes. But her expression isn’t filled with disgusted shock. What’s leveled on me is stunned curiosity. Bewildered enthusiasm.

Jesus fucking Christ, this woman.

I increase the pace of my fingers, her needy whimpers a torturous tease. “You’re going to come for me.” I place my hand atop her sternum, slowly sliding up her sweat-slicked skin over her necklace, all the way to her throat.

Her hips tilt farther, demanding more, her gasp, gasp, gasps rasping in my ears.

There’s no way this woman wasn’t made for me.

Made to torment me with temptation. To punish me for my sins.

“Be a good girl and show me how you get yourself off.” I bury my face against her cheek, close my eyes, and concentrate every molecular cell of my being on keeping my dick in my pants. “Ride my hand, Ollie.”

She does. Oh, fuck, how she goddamn does.

Those hips roll in the smoothest, rhythmic dance. Her legs grind against mine.

“Remy...” My name is a moan. A fucking delicious spell.

I squeeze her neck, scraping my teeth along her jaw. “Don’t stop drenching my hand.”

I want to taste her. To suffocate between those thighs and die a happy man.

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