Page 22 of The Wrong Guy

I let my hands trace over her curves as I drop to my knees before her. Sitting back on my heels, I look up the length of her body, and I’m not ashamed to say, I beg, “Please ...”

She bites her lip, uncertain, but shifts her legs apart for me.

Relieved and eager, I run a fingertip up her inner thigh until I reach the silkiness of her panties. They’re soaked through. That slickness had better not be for her date because it’s mine, all mine. Hunger rises up in me, swift and strong. I need to taste her ... now.

I push her skirt up, revealing her. She’s wearing her usual silk panties, not her extra-sexy ones. The knowledge that she wasn’t dressing for sex with Oliver is the slightest balm to my heart, and then the idea floats away as I inhale her, breathing her in.

I nuzzle into her cleft with my nose, easily finding her clit and burrowing my face there. “Mmm ...,” I groan. I pull the wet silk to the side to look at her heaven, and spread her slickness over her clit with my thumb, circling it gently.

I hear her sigh of pleasure as she lets go. I slip my arm beneath one thigh, lifting it to my shoulder and holding her securely. She steadies herself with both hands dug into my shoulders, with those damn nails fucking ruining me.

I tease over her whole core with my tongue, lapping up her hot sweetness. “Fuck, I’ve missed this,” I confess and then sink my tongue between her lips, thrusting it inside to get more. I lay a gentle kiss to her clit, a promise to take good care of it, and then circle it with my tongue the same way I did my thumb.

I drink her down, driving her wild with my tongue and mouth until her hips are bucking into me for more. I want to drag it out so this never ends, but at the same time, I want to remind her why we’re so good together. I can help her come now, and then do it again ... and again ... and again. Surely then she’ll see.

She’s meant to be mine.

Because I’m already hers. I have been for so fucking long.

I’m focused on her sounds of pleasure when a sharp ring interrupts. “Oh, that’s ... my phone,” Wren pants. “I have to get that.” She moves her leg from my shoulder, stretching to reach her phone on the hallway table.

Seriously?

She scrambles to push the button on the screen and answers with her work voice, “Hello, this is Wren.”

She’s quiet for a moment, listening, and then begins trying to right her clothes one-handed. Like she’s done with what we’re doing.

“Oh, of course. No problem, Oliver.”

My entire body goes tight with those three syllables. Ol-i-ver. She’s talking to him? She stopped me from giving her pleasure to answer his call?

Fuck that.

I grab her leg and throw it back on my shoulder, yanking her panties to the side. She makes a sound of surprise and looks down. I glare up at her from between her legs, daring her to stop me.

“I’m fine. Just ... uhm, stumbled in my heels a bit,” she lies. To me, she mouths, “Jesse!”

I keep her pinned in place with my arms and our eyes locked together as I lick her again. I devour her roughly, giving her no time to build up or for me to savor the tease. I take her right back to the edge as quickly as I can.

“Huh?”

“Uh, yeah ...”

She can’t follow their conversation, too lost in what I’m doing to her. So I keep doing it, wanting her to focus on me ... on us.

Wren fights to hold back a moan, losing the battle spectacularly as I slip two fingers inside her and her pussy clenches around them. I pull them out to grip her thigh punishingly. “Quiet,” I order and she nods, biting her lip so hard, it’s gone white.

I thrust my fingers back inside, fucking her hard as I flutter my tongue over her clit. Her body’s going lax, and I have to lift my shoulder to give her more support. She’s so close I can taste it.

“I’m fine, Oliver. Just a long day, as I’m sure you understand.”

She’s saying his fucking name while she’s impaled on my fingers? I growl against her flesh and nip her clit with my teeth. She quivers instantly, drenching my fingers as she flies apart, coming in waves.

“Ungh ...,” she moans, trying her best to be quiet. But I’ve decided that maybe I want Oliver to know exactly what she’s doing, who she’s doing it with, and how good I can make her feel.

I keep going, giving her no mercy as I make her come again.

“I have ... to go,” Wren says, and the phone clatters to the floor beside me.

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