Page 49 of Silenced

Until this man.

And it could get addictive.

With digits slick with my arousal, an arousalhebuilt, he sticks one of his fingers in his mouth.

The groan he releases—oh. Fuck.

His tongue smoothes over the tip and he sucks one deeper before he sticks the other one in too, scooping up the juices that have dripped onto his knuckles.

My pussy throbs with emptiness.

I’m so fucking empty.

I didn’t anticipate that being a problem twenty minutes ago, but now it is.

I haven’t had a decent orgasm that wasn’t self-donated to the cause since Britney’s hair grew back.

When I shudder, he returns those spatulate, callused, slender tormentors to my clit.

I’m too busy shivering and quaking to register his next moves until he makes them—he thrusts those two digits he wet into me and scissors them wide.

The spasms that rush through my muscles make me wonder if I need a doctor because this has to be a seizure.

How my head fills with white noise, the way that buzz zips along my nerve endings—I’m about to pass out.

No doubt about it.

My head falls backward as he rocks his hand, widening his fingers, twisting them inside me, making me feel full for the first time since I met Harvey.

Shuddering, I look down at us.

Strong and supple, his work-worn hand is tanned against the soft pinkness of my pussy. Unfamiliar, yet welcome. The visceral display has my breath hitching in my chest as, with that sight bombarding me, full ofhim, I come.

It’s simple and easy and soughs from me like a sigh would.

Until the sigh forms a hurricane as he picks up the pace, that is. Hand bucking, thumb caressing my clit, fingertips pinching my nipple until I feel the bite of his teeth replace them.

Pleasure/pain—God, they said in the magazines that it felt good, but I never expectedthis.

My eyes close with the release as it gains ground, storming through my veins, making my heart pound, my lungs burn, and my skin prickle with its ferocity.

As I sob with the power of it, my nails dig into the muscles at his shoulders once more, fingers clenching as fiercely as my cunt while I fly through my orgasm.

I want to ride that high for as long as I can, but like always, fabulous things come to an end.

It’s at that time that I realize my legs are literally shaking with the strength of my climax.

Dazedly, I study my thighs then peer at him and find him licking his fingers clean again.

His hum makes me bite my lip—honestly, I’ve seen people slurp down strawberry syrup on a sundae with less enjoyment than him doingthis.

Then, he signs, “Better than ambrosia.” And he smirks when I blush.

Cheeks hotter than ever, even after everything he just did to me, I accept that there’s no standing, never mind an escape attempt, until my legs stop with the shaking thing—that hasneverhappened before.

What the hell?

A part of me is embarrassed by what I let him do to me, and another part wants, as a token gesture, to try to knee him in the balls again, but mostly, that fades away when the cocktail of unease, annoyance, ecstasy, and calm hits my bloodstream.

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