Page 349 of The Christmas Wife

"What?" I stare.

"You can, of course, leave the car, and I’ll have someone drive you home and we may never speak of this night."

"And I’ll still have my job?"

"You will."

The expression on his face indicates he expects me to take the easy way out. The rebel at heart, who’s headed for an arranged marriage, and who’s never had the guts to seize the opportunity when it was presented to her, wants to prove him wrong. And I was so sure I wanted control of what I would do next.What am I going to do next?

I straighten my legs, then raise my hips to hitch up my skirt. It takes some wriggling to pull it halfway up, but finally it’s bunched up my thighs. Good thing I noticed a tear in my stockings earlier and took them off. Or a bad thing… Depends on your perspective. I have to admit, it’s with relief I slide my fingers down the front of my panties. My breath hitches. Fish on a bike, I’m soaking wet.

"Exactly." His voice is calm.

I search for any traces of triumph or satisfaction in his tone, but I only hear a methodical intent in them. It’s as if he wants to prove a point and knew he wasn’t going to lose. He baitedme, and I walked into his trap. I could, of course, get out of the car and leave…but that would mean walking away from his challenge. I'd be conforming to the image my family created for me. Following through would mean, when presented with the opportunity to create my own experiences, the kind I could draw on later when I was trapped in a marriage I don't want, I’ll have some satisfaction that I embraced my deepest desires. The kind the man next to me seems to bring out in me. The kind I heard gossiped about among my girlfriends, and to which I nodded along, pretending a first-hand knowledge I didn’t have. The gap in my skillset is one I could fill now. He's giving me the opportunity to find out how it would be to feel my fingers inside of myself while he watches. When I still hesitate he stiffens. I sense the change that comes over him.

"You’re a virgin," He declares.

"What? No." I jerk my chin in his direction, then gasp, for he’s staring at me. And his amber eyes glow with a look of such intensity, I’m sure he’s going to reach over and curl his fingers around my neck and pull him to me and?—

"Touch your clit," he orders.

I don’t comply.

"You do know where your clit is?"

"Of course, I do." He said it to rile me. He’s trying to manipulate me… And I am going to let him. This time.

I circle the swollen bud between my moist pussy lips, and frissons of electricity zip out from the contact. "Oh," I gasp.

His gaze intensifies. "Run your fingers around it again."

I do. The pin-pricks of sensations deepen. Moisture bathes the area between my legs. My thighs quiver, and my toes curl.

"How does it feel?" he asks without moving his gaze from mine.

"Like…a storm is gathering in the most intimate part of me."Like I’ve never realized what my body was meant to be usedfor. Like I want to be used by you. Like I want you to close the distance to me and replace my fingers with your thick ones.

The air in the car grows heavy. The tendons of his throat stand out in relief. The muscles of his jaw flex and I realize he’s not as much in control as he’d like to think he is. "Pinch your clit," he snaps.

A tremor of heat zips under my skin. I hold the tiny swollen nub between my thumb and forefinger, and when I bear down, a volley of sparks charges to my extremities. My nipples tighten. My scalp tingles. I throw my head back and moan. I hear the sound and realize how needy it is. It also turns me on more.

"Do you want to squeeze your tits?" he asks in that low heavy voice which courses another flurry of butterflies through my veins.

I nod, then begin to remove my fingers from my pussy, when he clicks his tongue. "Did I give you permission to do so?"

I shake my head.

"As a punishment, rub your clit."

The thought of the friction where I need it most is almost too much to bear. "I can’t."

"You can. You will. Do it, Belle."

Wait? He has a nickname for me? A glow ignites deep within. I replace my fingers with the heel of my hand. The first stroke sends a surge of sparks spiraling down my legs. I groan, continue to swipe, and an avalanche of goosebumps covers my skin. My entire body shudders. My fingers tremble. "I can’t. No more."

"Once more," he commands.

A whimper spills from my lips. I squeeze my eyes shut, draw in a breath, another, then brush up against my throbbing clit. This time, flames lick my nerve endings. A trembling begin at my toes, steps up my calves, my thighs, circles my lower belly, my pussy. "I think I’m... I’m going to?—"

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