Page 31 of Perfect Praise

The way he settles his eyes on me is so laser focused I feel like he’s welding me to the wall. Locke takes one step in, and I instinctually press my body against the icy cinder block.

He smirks. Then Locke slips my camera off of my neck, raises it to his eye, and snaps a picture of me.

I’m speechless, waiting for him to dosomething, anything, because I can almost feel how much he wants me.

Locke studies the picture he just took. “You are so gorgeous.” He raises his head. “Do you know that? How pretty you are?”

I blink. I exhale. I shake my head an inch.

The only thing I want is to hear him call me pretty again.

“No one ever tells you?” he asks curiously.

He glances down at my lips, which I now can’t help but lick.

Another shake of my head.

Locke lets my camera dangle from the strap in his hand before he gently places it next to his feet. “I can hardly control myself with you.”

Heat blooms from below my belly button and winds down between my legs. My skin flushes, aching for him to put a hand on me anywhere, but even when he steps closer, it’s like he steps as close as possible without touching me.

My hands work by themselves to grip his waist and pull him against me. His body is a furnace; tense back muscles, rigid lines between abs, and hard. Everything is hard.

He smiles, so fucking close to my mouth, when he places his hands on either side of my head then moves his face to the side so we’recheek to cheek.

“You have no idea how good I could make you feel without even touching you. By just saying the words you want to hear,” he whispers. “I would take such good care of you.”

“I believe you,” I hear myself say. He knows whatever is going on in my mind, even though I don’t know myself, because he sounds purposeful, like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to keep myself from not putting my hands on you though.” One of his hands falls to my neck before his fingers skim the delicate skin below my ear. “I’m already addicted to how soft your skin is.”

“Please keep touching me.” My mind has dissolved and evaporated. I sound like I’m desperate, begging him for anything he’ll give me.

His lips graze over the other side of my neck, and I damn near pass out. He groans, presses his hips into me, and practically holds me up with his thigh so I don’t fall to the floor. He kisses me below my ear harder, using his tongue this time to taste me.

“Fuck,” he whispers, sinking his teeth into my neck. His hands find mine, which are clawing into his lower back, before he raises them up together and pins them above my head. He pulls his shoulders back. “Look at you.”

Obviously, I can’t look at myself, but Jesus, if I’m not trying to somehow look even better for him.

I can’t move with his weight pressed against me. His nose nudges mine.

Kiss me, is all I can think over and over and over.

“You want to be a good girl for me, don’t you?” he asks huskily instead.

I nod, eyes locked to his. My heart is hammering against my sternum in pure confusion and lust.

“You’ve never explored how this makes you feel?”

I shake my head no. “No one’s ever called me that before.”

He smiles as I close my eyes. Immerse myself. All I want is more of his voice washing over me. “Fuck, Maren, I’ll degrade you, and I’ll praise you, and I’ll worship you. Like you deserve.”

My skin prickles as a wave overtakes my body from head to toe. I’ll do anything to make this man happy as long as he admires me while I do it.

A whimper escapes my lips. “Locke, please.”

Finally.

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