Page 66 of The Bad Boy Rule

My nipples are pebbled and taut, pressing almost painfully against my sports bra. Every brush against the fabric feels like it’s the catalyst for a detonation inside of me.

Saint tears his mouth from mine and leans back, chest slightly heaving. “Take it off.” His eyes drop to my shirt.

God, did he feel them through my shirt?

“Now, Lennon.”

I sit back slightly, reaching for the hem of my cropped top and slowly dragging it over my head, tossing it somewhere behind me. I’ve never been particularly self-conscious about my body, but under his molten stare, my confidence slightly falters.

That is until I watch his throat bob as a rough swallow slides down it, and then his eyes move down to my chest, flaring. His tongue darts out, and he licks his lips.

Jesus, having a guy look at you like…that.

It makes me feel powerful.

And now, I’m even more thankful that I wore my favorite bra today, bloodred lace that clearly he’s a fan of. Red always makes me look good since it’s such a stark contrast against my pale skin.

“I want you to use me to make yourself come.” His low, guttural words send sparks coursing through my veins.

I pause for a moment because I’m not entirely sure how to admit this without dying of embarrassment. Warmth creeps up my cheeks, and his brows cinch together when he notices.

Exhaling, I let the words escape out with it. “I… don’t know how.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I don’t know how to make myself come… because I’ve neverhadan orgasm.”

I feel his entire body stiffen slightly, almost indecipherably, but it’s there. Something dark passes over his face, silence stretching around us until I can’t even take another second.

“God, saysomething.”

Finally, he speaks. “With someone else or… ever?”

“Ever,” I say. “I mean, I have tried by myself, but…” I trail off, wishing for the floor to suddenly open up and swallow me whole. I glance down at my lap, then feel his finger tipping my chin up, forcing my gaze back to him. “I just can’t. It just doesn’t happen. I’m pretty sure I’m just one of those girls who just… can’t.”

“Bullshit.”

Before I can even ask what that’s supposed to mean, he leans forward and slides his hand into my hair, palm curving around my nape, and pulls my mouth down to meet his, stealing the words altogether.

He sucks my tongue, kissing me like I’m the last breath he’ll have on this earth, until I’m a panting, writhing mess.

“Just like that,” he murmurs when he pulls his mouth away, staring down at me. I’ve been so caught up in the kiss that I didn’t even realize that I’ve been rocking myself back and forth, chasing friction over his erection.

Heat ripples through me when I feel how hard he is beneath me. My God… he’s huge.

Why am I not at all surprised that the man is walking around with that in his pants?

I roll my bottom lip between my teeth, pulling it into my mouth.

The fabric of my leotard is thin, leaving not much of a barrier between us with him still only in the flimsy towel, so each time my hips rock, I feel the head of his dick rubbing against my swollen clit.

God, it feels so good.

Saintfeels so fucking good.

I hate it at the very same time that I’m feral over it.

The strangest combination, and still, I’m chasing the high as a result of it.

---