Page 34 of Rim Job

I let out a small gasp as his finger continues its path across my lip. Back and forth. Back and forth. The barest of touches sends my hormones into overdrive.

That finger blazing a trail along other parts of my skin…

I shiver from the mental image. His grip on my waist tightens. My body hums with arousal.

What’s he going to do next?

I squeeze my eyes closed tighter as his breath, apparently always minty and fucking fabulous, fans across my lips. The air around us crackles with anticipation, or lust, likely lust, as I wait for his lips to touch mine. This kiss will destroy the thread of self-control I was clinging to.

Breathe, Ti, breathe.

“Can I get you anything before we land, sir?” Madison destroys the moment and throws a bucket of ice water on my flaming libido.

As I regain my senses, I shake my head, trying to throw off the lingering tendrils of the Rim Effect. I open my eyes to find Rim still staring at me. The muscle in his jaw works overtime before he exhales a shaky breath.

“No. Thank you.” He spits the words out between gritted teeth, his hand falls from my waist, and I realize I already miss his touch.

Shit.

With my own sigh, and without looking back, I head to the bedroom. It's for the best.

Really, what was I thinking?

I have a plan. I need to stick to it and this, whatever the hell this is, is a very temporary arrangement. He's not my real husband. Hell, he’s not even my booty call.

But still, a little kiss or touch here and there can’t be that bad, right? We both know this charade has an expiration date. Maybe it's okay to have a little fun with Rimmington. Maybe just for a bit, I can just enjoy the moment.

MotherfuckingskankbagdouchenozzleAir-Slut Madison.

17

RIMMINGTON

I've never wanted a woman so badly in all my bloody life. After Madison interrupted us, I promptly slung back three fingers of Scotch. The burn did nothing to quell the need in my trousers.

Christ! Bloody arrangement.

I tip the bottle to pour another round.

“Rim.” Christina's mumbled voice reaches me from down the hall.

I put down the Scotch and head toward the bedroom.

“Rim.” Her breathy tone greets me as I open the door to the bedroom.

“Oh, God!”

I push my way into the bathroom, terrified by the sudden urgency in her tone. And I stop in my tracks.

Holy shite.

Tendrils of steam swirl around her body like phantom fingers caressing her skin. I swallow, trying to drag in air.

Christina's naturally tanned skin glistens with water droplets as she leans against the shower wall, head thrown back, eyes closed while her fingers move swiftly between her toned thighs.

Bloody hell, she's masturbating.

“Rimmington.”

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