Page 56 of A Fine Line

She shivers, her head tilting toward me as she twists away with a brief giggle and a gasp. “Is this what it feels like?”

“What ‘what’ feels like?”

“Desire,” she whispers brokenly. “Aching need.”

I frown, unsure what she means, but the insinuation is there. “Are you a virgin?” I ask incredulously.

She barks out a bitter laugh. “Not hardly.”

“Then how can you not know what desire feels like?”

She’s quiet for a few moments, then replies, “I guess I’ve never trulyyearnedbefore.”

“And you yearn now?”

“Yes,” she gasps out, her legs rubbing together as she squirms, blatant desire written on her features.

“You want me?” I ask as I lean forward, my lips a hair’s breadth from hers.

“Yes.”

“Tell me,” I whisper, my lips brushing over hers once, twice before I pull back, staring into her lust-drunk eyes. “Tell me what you want.”

A glimmer of fear flashes over her face, but as quickly as it’s there, it’s gone. She swallows beneath my hand and then says, “I want you to fuck me.”

“Is that all?” I ask. “You only want me to fuck you?”

She shakes her head as much as my grip on her allows. “I want you to make me come.”

“How?”

“With your mouth,” she answers, her eyes focusing on my lips. Then, her gaze moves downward until she’s blatantly staring at the obvious bulge in the front of my jeans. “And your cock.”

A strangled noise brews in my chest, and I choke it back down, covering it with a cough as I release her and roughly say, “Stand up.”

She rises from her seat without hesitation, and I walk around her, taking the seat she vacated. She stands before me, wringing her hands nervously as she waits for me to tell her what to do next. I adjust myself on the sofa, her eyes dropping to my hips as I lift them and move down so I’m sprawled more comfortably. “Use me.”

Her eyes jump to mine, and she stares at me for a moment before asking, “Use you how?”

“To come,” I reply calmly. “Use my mouth, my cock. Whatever you want, any way you want.”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m always serious, sweetheart.”

She continues to stand in front of me, staring me up and down, fidgeting from one foot to the other while wringing her hands in front of her. So, finally, I ask, “Would it help if I stripped myself?”

Her eyes fly to mine, and she shakes her head. “I’d rather do it. If that’s okay?”

I incline my head at her, spreading my legs wider to make room for her, then motion for her to come closer. She steps into the V of my legs and drops to her knees, her hands gripping the tops of my thighs as I move forward. She doesn’t move for a few moments, so I grasp her hands in mine and tug gently, placing them over the zipper of my jeans.

I press my hips up, rubbing my hard dick against her palm, and a small smile forms on her lips. She lowers her eyes as if she’s suddenly shy, and I frown, completely baffled by her actions and reactions thus far. So, I snake a hand out and wrap it around her throat again, squeezing tightly and yanking her to me. “Tell me one thing,” I say quietly. She gives a brief nod, and I continue, “Are you going to hurt Darius?”

Her brow furrows, but she doesn’t look away as she shakes her and whispers, “No.”

I search her eyes for the lie, waiting a few extra moments to see if she’ll flinch, but she doesn’t. Her gaze remains steady on mine, her pulse thrumming beneath my hand. The open vulnerability in her eyes does something to me, something foreign, unexplainable.

“Do you feel that?” she asks breathlessly, her hands coming up and gripping my shirt, yanking me into her until I feel her breath against my lips. “The yearning?”

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