Page 26 of Catching His Runaway

I reach for her, fingers skimming the curve of her hip. She sucks in a breath but doesn’t pull away from my touch.

“Tommy—”

She’s warm. So fucking warm. My fingers trace the inside of her thigh, slow, deliberate, and her breath catches as I reach those little shorts. Made out of a thin fabric, I use the growing heat of what is between her thighs to guide me to my destination.

A part of me wants to turn on the light to see how pink she is now. Too embarrassed and bashful, I’m confident that there isn’t a chance that she could use her body as a tool or weapon to get what she wants.

When I touch her, it’s like she can’t function, either. She’s as hopeless as I am.

Keeping the light off, I tug her toward me and erase the space between our bodies. Breathing in, I smell my body wash clinging to her skin. Her entire body smells like me.

Humming in satisfaction, I lean closer to her as my fingers memorize the curves of her parts. Her hair tickles my nose, and my mouth is close enough to touch her temple.

“Tell me this shirt didn’t belong to another man,” I groan as I shove the hem of it toward her stomach.

She shakes her head, shivering when I pull at the little bow she tied for her shorts. “It’s mine. I, um, like how they feel.”

Silly thoughts fill my mind. I want her to wear my shirts. See the way they tickle her thighs and barely hide what’s beneath. If it takes washing them twice to get her to even consider, then I’ll make it happen.

Whispering my name, her breath catches as my knuckles scrape against the band of her shorts and the underwear she’s wearing beneath them.

So soft to the tough, I listen to her breathing grow faster as she lets me trace the line of her pussy between her underwear and shorts. The fabric is already growing damp, like she’s weak to even a few light strokes.

My body betrays me, my cock thickening as I make my way into shoving my hand inside. I don’t mind that I’m stretching out the fabric of her underwear, too focused on the way she whispers my name as she parts her thighs for me. Giving me all the access I need, she moans as I part her folds and find her clit.

Swollen and soaked, her pussy begs for more attention. As I breathe in her hair, I hook my leg around hers, spreading her wider.

Shame I can’t see her pussy through the darkness. Hearing how wet she is will have to be enough. With each tease of my fingers, I’m willing my heart to be quiet so I can hear just how slick her skin is as I sink one finger inside, soon adding a second.

I wasn’t planning on this. Wasn’t planning on the way her hips lift into my touch, wasn’t planning on the way my own pulse kicks up just from the way she breathes my name like a soft prayer.

“Fuck,” she gasps when I press deeper.

Yeah. Fuck.

Suddenly, it’s not just about tiring her out. It’s about the way her back arches when I curl my fingers just right. It’s about the way she bites her lip to keep quiet, like she doesn’t want me to know how I’m making her feel.

“Louder,” I growl, needing this more than I realized.

She shakes her head, too bashful. The hitch in her breath and the way her brows come together tease me to no fault.

Craving to hear her voice, I drag my thumb over her clit hard, and she breaks—a choked moan tearing from her throat, her fingers digging into my arm, making little crescent moons that will hopefully linger through the night long enough to let me see once the sun comes back up.

“Tommy—”

The curve of her body is my reward, followed by her thighs clamping around my wrist to keep me in place. As her release coats my fingers, I torture her further by spreading it and plunging my fingers deeper into her wet heat.

Every whimper that forms on her tongue fuels me to keep pushing. The sting of her nails digging deeper and deeper into my muscle means nothing. Rubbing her soft, wet walls until her legs are jerking, calves straining, and toes curling, I finally put her out of her misery with a second orgasm after the first.

Without thinking about it, I pull my hand back, plunging my fingers into my mouth. Craving to know how she tastes, I’m hit with a flavor of sweetness that makes my head spin. One lap of my tongue has me considering tearing off her shorts and underwear so I can lick her clean of such sweetness.

Valeria’s legs shake for several seconds, her eyes fluttering wearily, even after a few more seconds.

Once her juices are licked clean from my fingers, I catch myself leaning toward her to breathe her in. Adding her arousal to her scent, I inhale until I’m drunk on her scent.

Curling her back to me, neither of us speaks. Maybe it’s the shock of the whole thing, or my plan worked and she’s exhausted herself, but it’s better this way. My mind is too occupied to address everything wrong with what we’ve just done.

Staring up through the darkness, an unsettling realization overcomes me. Instead of yearning to make this woman suffer to fulfill my need for revenge, something else has snuck in, replacing it.

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