Page 154 of Beautifully Wounded

“Good. Definitely good,” she admits, running her fingers through the white substance coating my skin, making my cock jerk from its sensitivity.

“You wanna taste it?” I ask, daringly, loving the way her cheeks flush red.

Yeah, she does. She just doesn’t want to admit it.

“It’s okay. You can if you want.” I gesture my head to my cock when she looks at me in surprise.

Biting her lip in thought, she releases it and brings her coated finger up to hover before her lips, her caramel gaze shooting back to mine as she flicks her tongue out and tastes my cum.

Her brows shoot up, meanwhile my cock is reawakening, for fuck’s sake.

“Not so bad, huh?”

She smiles and nods. “Better than I remember.”

Fuck.

Just hearing that makes me want to fucking kill.

The thought she has tasted anyone else’s cum is bad enough, but I have a really fucking bad feeling that her experience wasn’t consensual.

Grinding my teeth, I work for control as she returns her stare to my cock.

Okay. Calm the fuck down. I can’t change the past, but I have her right here, right now, clearly curious about sex, which is a good thing. She obviously feels comfortable with me or she wouldn’t be doing this.

One thing is for sure, over the past few days, she’s been really fucking randy. Being in this environment where sex, especially open-door sex, is such a regular occurrence, it’s no wonder she’s been feeling this way despite her past.

She bites her lip again as she glides her finger through my cooling cum, and I wonder if biting her lip is a tell for her. An arousal tell.

I’ll have to keep my eye out for that.

“Are you horny, Angel?” I pry, hoping she’ll be honest.

“Yes,” she admits so quickly that her brows shoot up again, surprising herself.

I bite back my smirk as she eyes me warily, like she’s worried about how I’ll react to her admission.

“Do you wantmeto touchyou?”

Her frown is instant at my words.

“I-uh… I’m not sure.”

“You can control my hand if you like,” I suggest, holding up my hand closest to her. “Pretend my fingers are yours, and you can move them however you want. I won’t do anything but give you my hand.”

She stares at me for a long-drawn-out beat, and I can’t tell by her expression what the fuck she’s thinking.

“You won’t move your fingers?” she asks, and I shake my head.

“No. You can move them. Have full control over them. Place them wherever you want.”

She considers this. “And you won’t try to touch me anywhere else?”

“No, I won’t even look if you don’t want me to. I’ll lay on my side, keep my eyes closed and you can just use my hand.”

“On my bare flesh?” she asks to confirm, her brows high again.

“Whatever you want. It can be over the top of your clothes if you want. It can be touching your bare flesh. It can be sinking inside you. Whatever.”

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