Page 61 of Just Say When

My head fell back against his chest on a soft moan.

“Quiet.” While one hand played with my pussy, his other wrapped around the base of my throat. He squeezed gently. “I had to sit there at the dinner table with you playing footsie with my dick. I had to make politeconversation.”

I whimpered and he squeezed again, less gently this time.

“Not a damn sound, hellion,” he growled.

I licked my lips, my gaze locked on his in the mirror, and nodded.

His hand cupped my pussy and this time, two fingers slid in. It was a tight fit with my thighs pressed together. I tried to widen my stance but he stopped me. He slowly pumped his fingers in and out. My hips bucked, urging him to move faster, but he refused to be rushed.

“God, you’re soaked.” He groaned when my inner muscles contracted around his talented fingers. “And you’re so close. You want to come so badly, don’t you, Essie?”

My lips parted, but he squeezed my throat again. At the reminder, I merely nodded.

He stared at me in the mirror, his eyes darkening as his gaze flicked from my eyes to my damp mouth to my chest, rising and falling with each heavy breath. “Should I let you come? Or should I leave you like this, the way you left me? Aching and frustrated.”

My eyes widened as I realized what he thought I deserved and what I thought I deserved might be two very different things.

My hand grabbed his at my throat. I dug my nails in. Our gazes collided in the mirror, his feral, mine desperate. A muscle ticked in his jaw.

“I should leave you like this. But I love to watch you come, and maybe that’s whatIdeserve,” he said roughly.

His fingers pumped faster. My eyes closed as the pleasure built.

“Eyes open, Essie,” he commanded. “Look at us.”

He ground the heel of his palm against my clit and sent me flying. My eyes flew open, my fingers digging into his hand on my throat, as waves of pleasure rocked my hips into his hand again and again.

“That’s it, honey,” he husked, his mouth against my temple. “Just like that. Look how pretty you are when you come.”

When the spasms subsided, he gently pulled his hand from my underwear and stepped around me. I slumped against the wall, panting, my jeans still undone, watching through heavy lidded eyes as he washed his hands and dried them on the towel.

He was smirking when he turned to me. “You feeling okay, dear?”

I made an incoherent sound.

He chuckled softly and squatted down so he was eye-level with my belly button. Gently, he tugged up my zipper and fastened the snap. Then he leaned forward and kissed me there, taking a deep breath.

“Come on, then,” he said, straightening again. “I can still smell you and it’s making me hungry for dessert.”

24

Brax

Icame home from work Friday afternoon to find Essie wearing my sweats and standing in front of the fireplace, staring at the row of framed photographs lined up along the mantel. My mom and dad on their wedding day. Me and my mom. My brothers and I on horseback. Essie and I exchanging vows. And the last one…Essie, Jack, and the tip of my index finger.

“You’re home early,” she said, not turning around.

“Snow is coming down pretty thick,” I said. “The storm is supposed to be a gnarly one. Figured it was better to be home than get caught on the road.”

She nodded and picked up the photo of our wedding. “Who took this?”

It was a good question, since we hadn’t hired a photographer.

“Ben,” I told her.

My nephew hadn’t been interested in being a groomsman alongside his dad and Zack, and we weren’t doing flower girls or a ring bearer. When he’d asked if he could take photos, I’d agreed and not thought about it again until he sent me these.

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