Page 110 of Between Passion and Revenge: Part One

“I just want….”

I know what I want. I want him. I want this. I want the reality he described when talking about his best friend’s parents and what he craves in his life.

It’s so real I can almost touch it, taste it.

“Touch me, Storm,” I whisper, diving in for another kiss. He freezes, and I take his hands and put one on my breast and, with a wantonness that is completely foreign, I put another beneath the waistband of my tights, over the soaked crotch of my panties. “Touch me.”

He groans again, but it’s like something snaps and next thing I know, the hand that was on my breast is now behind my neck, and he squeezes, directing me to look him dead in the eyes.

“You want me to touch you, Sweetness?”

I moan again as his fingers begin a slow rub over the hot button separated by plain cotton.

“Yes, Storm. Please,” I whisper.

“Are you mine, Shae?” His words are just as low, but I can’t think, I can barely breathe as I rock into his palm, seeking more, more….

“Storm, please,” I cry, and I allow the wall to fall as I look into his eyes, trying to communicate all the things, all the conflicted thoughts jumbled in my brain.

And because we’rewhateverwe are, he understands what I’m trying to say.

“Okay, baby,” he says, his voice calm, even though his heart races beneath my palm, and lust dilates his pupils.

“I can make you feel good, Shae. Is that what you want?”

I nod. I think if I don’t come soon, like, in the next ten minutes, I might actually have a heart attack and die.

He grins a bit.

“Okay, baby.”

Before I can ride his fingers to completion, he flips me on my back, settling me on the couch to face him with my legs spread.

“Storm?” I suck in a breath that turns to a bitten-off whimper when his hands go to the sides of my tights, hooking my panties along for the ride.

“Don’t worry, Shae. You’ll get your orgasm, but we’re going to do it this way.” Then, with a slowness that feels criminal, he pulls the fabric down my legs and off my body.

Chest heaving, my eyes bulge when he spreads my legs wider, putting one limb on the back of the sofa and the other off the couch cushion, anchored to the floor.

“Touch yourself, Shae.” His voice is muted, but it’s like the vibrations take up the space and land in my neglected cooch.

“What?” I reply. “You want me to?—”

“Touch yourself, Sweetness. I want to see you get off for me.”

“But you’re not going to do it for me?” I blurt out, resisting a pout, even as the command in his voice has me getting wetter.

“No,” he says, his voice sharp. “I’ll only finger you if you’re mine. So I’ll ask again: Are you mine, Shae?”

I stare at him, the words right on the tip of my tongue. But I can’t say them. I can’t, I just?—

He startles me when he leans close to my pussy, as if he were about to go down on me, but instead of licking me and sending me into outer space, he spits on my lips, the slick of his saliva sliding toward my ass.

I shouldnotbe so turned on by this.

“Touch yourself,” he commands, this time taking my right hand and placing it on my pussy.

Thoughtless, I begin a slow circle with the pads of my fingers, bowing when the pressure feels so damn good. I’m already close. I’m so close.

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