Page 39 of Twisted Little Thing

CHAPTER XIV

Nicky

The tips of his fingers are gently stroking along the side of my belly, tickling just enough for me to flinch and release exhausted giggles. My reactions are the only sound that fills the room. The evening is still young. The sun is far from setting and peeks through the closed curtains like a curious child.

I am lying beside Evan completely naked, still recovering from the insane row of orgasms that did not stop and felt close to torture in between. My body is sore and tired – but my mind is screaming for more.

I want to return to that surreal bliss, the insanity of pleasure he put me through. But right now, I cannot even look at him because of the overwhelming sea of sensations I am still trying to grasp – and because I feel ashamed.

I didn't want to be here. Where is all that rational caution, the sassy wall of defense that would usually keep me safe from falling too much too fast? Especially with him. I swore to be careful, to keep my distance.

And I certainly did not plan to end up naked in his arms, lazily staring at the ceiling above as I relax in my post-orgasm high.

It feels as if I am on drugs, and for a moment I even find myself questioning whether he might have put something in my drink. He didn’t, of course, he just treated me to the first experience of multiple orgasms of my life.

Nothing to lose your mind over, right?

I can feel his eyes on me. He has been watching me the entire time, but neither of us has said a word. All one can hear is my breathing and the exhausted sighs and giggles I let out every time his hand touches an especially sensitive spot on my body.

He is still fully dressed, except for his shoes. I can feel the soft fabric of his pullover on my skin. I wish I could steal it from him so that I could wear it myself and be wrapped in his scent whenever I want.

Blood rushes to my cheeks as my mental image transitions into love-drunk-girl-mode. I try to shake it off by finally turning around to look at him.

A loving smile fleets across his face when our eyes meet. His hair is still slicked into place, just as it was at the beginning of our date. He still looks impeccable while I have turned into a hot mess under his touch.

"This is not fair," I sigh, dreamily staring at him.

He raises his eyebrows. "Not fair?"

"What did you do to me?" I ask.

"I told you," he replies. "I know what I want – and I know how to make you give it to me."

I have no words to reply to that.

"Seeing you like this only adds to my pleasure," he continues. "Seeing a girl break under your touch is the most beautiful thing you can imagine."

"You want to break me?" I ask.

He smirks and leans over to plant a little kiss on my cheek.

"A little, yes," he murmurs softly. "But don't worry, you'll want it, too."

I swallow and try to fathom his words. The drug-like fog that has dampened my conscious is beginning to clear and I am beginning to feel in control again. It is as if a part of me – the sane and rational part – has temporarily escaped my body and is now returning, accompanied by red flags.

His words are sweet, but also oddly scary.

"I knew I should be careful with you," I say.

He shrugs. "Yes, be careful. It might be for the best."

"You should know, though," I add. "Whatever you're trying to do, it won't work with me."

He smirks at me. "No? What do you think I am trying to do?"

"You just said it! You want to break me. You want to make me lose control. But that's not what I do. I don't lose myself to guys. Never."

His smile broadens. He pulls me in closer, wrapping his other arm around my waist and pressing my naked body against his as he claims me with another kiss.

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