Page 113 of Rule Breakers Fall Hardest

He pads around to the other side of the bed, and as he climbs in, I finally crack my eyes open.

“You’re wearing boxers?” I blurt.

He rumbles with laughter. “I didn’t know if you’d appreciate me sleeping naked.”

“Good point,” I squeak.

I’m acting like a nervous, scared virgin, when that’s the furthest thing from the truth.

But thinking about having sex with Daire makes me feel like one.

“I want to touch you,” he confesses, his warm hand landing on my hip. “But the things I want to do to you… they’ll have to wait. Though…” He brushes over the band of my pajama shorts. “There are other things I could do to you. But only if you can be quiet. Do you want that?”

I nod, way too eagerly based on the laugh that leaves him. His breath is warm when he leans in and kisses my neck.

He slips his fingers beneath the fabric of my shorts and panties, skimming over my pussy.

I press my lips together, stifling a whimper.

“Fuck, Rosie.” He presses another kiss to my neck. “You’re so wet already. Were you laying here thinking about me while I was in the shower?”

I give a jerky nod in answer and suppress a moan.

“Mm,” he hums. “Were you thinking about me naked?”

Another nod, my heart racing.

“Was I stroking myself?”

Heat pools in my core as I nod again.

“Words, Rosie. You’re going to have to start talking to me.”

“Y-Yes,” I stutter, tipping my head back to give him better access to my neck.

“In this fantasy, did I shout your name when I came?”

“I-I didn’t get that far.”

He slips just the tips of two fingers past my entrance. Just a tease. I wiggle my hips for more, but it does no good. With my bottoms still on and his body against mine I have no room to move.

“The things I want to do to you,” he murmurs, lips ghosting over mine.

I arch back, begging for more. “Do it.”

He pushes his fingers in another inch. “In time, Rosie. In time.”

Finally, he works his fingers in and out of me, pulling all logical thought from me. All I can do is feel. He presses his thumb against my clit, the sensation so acute it’s too much.

Too much and he hasn’t even properly fucked me.

My orgasm builds quickly but levels off before I can hurtle over that edge.

It’s so reminiscent of many experiences. All the times I was left disappointed. Suddenly, fear takes hold of me.

What if the night in the living room was a fluke? What if he can never make me come again? Would he be okay with that? What about?—

“Get outta that pretty little head, babe.”

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