Page 27 of The Christmas Wife

"Of course, I do."

His lips curl. He swoops out his hand to cup my pussy through the blouse that covers me to mid-thigh.

I squeak, grab at his wrist. He digs the heel of his palm into my core, and the strength of his touch, presses up through the soft fabric of my blouse into my clit. Sparks of heat, of lust, and streaks of emptiness slam into my gut. I shudder, "Oh, my God."

He rotates his palm in circles. Pinpricks of need swirl up my spine, my thighs spasm, my toes curl, my scalp tingles, anddamn him, but he’s barely touched me. How could my body betray me like this? Is this what I want?

He releases me, retracts his palm, and I jerk my pelvis forward.What the hell?

He tilts his head, brings his palm to his nose and sniffs, "That’s what I thought. You are so aroused, if I had continued my ministrations, you’d have come."

"Not," I sniff.

"Fine then. " He smirks, straightens, turns to leave.

"Stop," I burst out.

He keeps going.Asshole.

"Don’t," I call out, then bite on the inside of my cheek. "Please," I mumble.

"What was that?" he asks.

"Please," I half snarl, "don’t go."

He pauses, then shoots me a glance over his shoulders "Admit it first."

"What?"

"That you want me."

I swallow.

He glares at me.

All of my nerve endings pop; a delicious edge of anticipation crackles up my legs, my back. I nod.

"Say it." He lowers his chin, "Tell me you wanted me to caress your pussy, shove my fingers into your cunt, make you wet, drag the moisture around your slit, and bring you to the edge."

My breathing grows shallow and my chest heaves.

"Well?"

"Yes," I sputter. "Yes." Jesus, now I sound like I am about to orgasm and he isn’t even touching me. And everything he’d said… It was filthy, and erotic, and no holds barred…and I want it.Gah!Maybe that last breakup had gone to my head? On the flip side, I haven’t thought about my ex since I got here,huh? Perhaps that’s what I need—a firm hand to keep me under control, a jerk-ass to occupy my thoughts and keep them off of my past, and his dick… Admit it. Since seeing that gorgeous cock… All you can think of is how it would feel inside of you—pulling, stretching, filling, bumping up against your innermost walls, driving you higher, higher. My knees seem to buckle. I push my heels into the floor to steady myself.

"You’re right," I manage to force out the words. "What you said turned me on."

"That’s a start." He draws himself up to his full height, walks back toward me. "Believe me, it’s good for you to speak what’s on your mind."

"Oh?"

"You have no idea what it does to keep your innermost desires bottled up inside."

"Is that your prognosis?" I mumble.

"That’s my advice, as your doctor." His eyes gleam. "Don’t hide your needs. Bring them out. Live them, revel in them. It’s good for your mind, and of course, your heart." He leans forward places his palm over the skin above my left breast, "Let go of your inhibitions. Put yourself in my hands for this interval of time. I promise, I’ll take care of you, Princess Buttercup."

I stare at him. He meets my gaze, unblinking. His features are composed, even sincere. And my soufflé rises every time I make it. Not.

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