Page 150 of The Faking Game

He just looks at me.

“Teasing me is a bad idea.”

“Not with my goal,” I say.

His eyes flash. The hands on my thighs curve and tighten. We’re both thinking of the same thing.Losing my virginity.

On my thigh, his hand slides higher up. “Were you telling the truth out there?” he asks. “Did you really go without your panties in front of all of those people?”

“I was covered,” I protest. “Perfectly decent.”

“There’s nothingdecentabout how you make me feel,” he mutters. His eyes darken, and he slides the hand on my inner thigh higher. An inch, and then another. “What will I find, trouble? Were you bare out there for hours? Only feet away from me…” His fingers brush higher. Another inch… and then he’s stroking across my folds.

West groans like I’ve wounded him. “You weren’t lying.”

“I would never lie to you,” I say in a teasing voice. His fingers feel like fire against my bare skin. I’ve never gone without panties in public before, and for the last few hours I’ve felt it, keenly, just how exposed I’ve been.

With no one around knowing.

West rests his free hand on the wall behind me, like he can no longer stand without help. “You were sitting out there bare like this?”

“You really thought I was lying?”

“I hoped,” he mutters, and his fingers stroke against me. Up and down, faint, exploring touches that make me shiver. He brushes over my clit, and my breath catches.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he asks. “You wanted to push me into doing this.”

“Yes,” I breathe.

West’s fingers disappear, but only to pull my skirt up. He lifts it slowly, his eyes fixed on mine. Only when the fabric is bunched up by my waist does he look down.

“Look at that. My perfect girl.” His fingers move between my lips. “You’re already a bit wet, too. Did you get excited out there? Knowing you were sitting out there bare?”

I nod. He touches me reverently, expertly, his eyes on every single one of his movements. “Of course you were,” he murmurs. “And you’re being so good, letting me look.” When he brushes over my clit again and I mewl at the sensation, he makes a soft shushing sound. “You have to be quiet, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?”

My hand in his hair turns into a vise. “Yes.”

He circles my clit with steady pressure, and my breath speeds up. His lips are on mine then, kissing me with bruising intensity. “This is what you wanted all day, for me to break?”

“You want me,” I whisper. “True or false.”

“More than I can handle,” he says. “More than I should.”

He makes a quick drumming motion over my clit, and the sudden rhythm makes me gasp. His fingers stroke down, teasing my entrance. “Push me away,” he says.

I shake my head.

“Nora,” he murmurs. “We can’t get caught in here, and right now, I’m really fucking close to ignoring that fact and staying in here until you’ve come at least twice. The others would notice.”

“I’m tired of pushing you away.” I scoot forward on the counter and moan when his finger slides against my entrance. “I want to practice the opposite. Use your fingers.”

“Fuck,” he mutters. His finger pushes inside me, and there’s that faint pressure again from the other day. My breath catches, and he pauses. His thumb returns to my clit and presses steadily downward.

“Oh,” I murmur and slide my hands down to grip his shoulders. “Oh, that’s…”

“You’re doing so good.” His breath is hot against mine. “Tell me how that feels.”

“Strange. Good. I like—oh!—when you do that.”

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