Page 138 of The Fine Line
She doesn’t speak, her chest rising and falling in slow, heavy breaths.
“Pull it to the side.”
Her brows raise. “What?”
“Pull your pretty little panties to the side and show me what I’ve done to you.” I pause, smirk slowly. “Or I’ll rip them off.”
“You said you wouldn’t lay a finger on me.”
“I have teeth.”
That flush creeps up her cheeks again.
“Come on,” I coax. “Let me see.”
She slides the fabric aside. It clings for a second—then peels away, revealing soft, glistening skin. She pulses when the air hits her, a silent confession her mouth refuses to give.
I bite down on my knuckle, dragging it slow across my lips.
“God,” I breathe. “Look at you. Practically dripping. Wanna try telling me again how much you hate me?”
Her eyes narrow. “How do you know it’s not because I’m fantasizing about killing you?”
“We all have our kinks, baby.” I grin. “As long as I’m in the fantasy.”
I pause, letting the tension thrum between us.
“Show me how you touch yourself when you think about me.”
She shakes her head.
“Do it,” I say softly. “You want to. I know you’re aching. I can see it.”
Her eyes close. She lets out a long sigh. Shakes her head.
I wait. I’m patient.
Slowly, one hand lowers.
She brushes her fingers through her folds, slow and tentative. Her head tilts back, lips parted.
“Eyes on me.”
Her eyes snap open.
“Don’t look away again,” I tell her.
She keeps touching herself, small shudders running through her.
“Circle your clit—right there. Just like that. Now suck on your fingers.”
She obeys, lips wrapping around her knuckles.
“Good girl,” I rasp. “Now slip one finger inside.”
Her hips twitch.
“You can have two now.”
