Page 5 of Bound By Them
Oh. Fuck. He wants to fuck around with an audience? I squirm in his hold. Not because I want him to let me go, but because apparently I really like that idea.
“Well?” He slides a hand down my arm, Dirty Dancing style.
I can barely breathe, it feels so good. “Okay.”
“I need to hear a yes, angel. Can I touch you? Everywhere? Even with Troy in the back seat with us?”
“Mm-hmm. Yes.”
“I knew you were brave.” He sounds so smug and satisfied, I almost want to relinquish my permission, just to be contrary. But that would be stupid because then he wouldn’t touch me.
And I really want him to touch me.
Except—
“I don’t want to be naked.”
“Mm, no problem.” He kisses my cheek. “There are all kinds of things I can do for you while you’re wearing this sweet little dress.”
I bite my lip. I can’t look at Troy. Nope. I’ll pretend he isn’t here. “Prove it.”
Edmund chuckles. “Happily. Keep your hands behind my neck.”
“You’re not the boss of me,” I grumble, but there’s no fight in the statement. I’m too curious about what he’s going to do. He seems to think he’s God’s gift to women, so let’s see what he’s capable of?—
Oh. Oh.
He slides his hand under my dress, but he doesn’t go straight for my pussy. Instead he lightly touches my skin, everywhere but my underwear. I tilt my hips, trying to disguise the movements with the subtle shifts and turns of the car, slyly urging him to the sweet spot.
He doesn’t fall for my unspoken directions. In fact, he retreats farther away, stroking the tops of my thighs.
Well, now he’s just being mean.
I make an impatient noise.
He pats my leg. “Everything all right, Dani?”
“Just wondering if all you’re going to do is stroke my skin. I should give you some lotion so we’re at least moisturizing while you’re at it.”
“You have quite the bratty mouth, don’t you?” He continues with his teasing strokes over my thighs.
“You haven’t heard the half of it.”
“Can’t wait.” He leans in close. “Now do me a favor and look at Troy.”
I force my gaze over to Troy. He’s halfway turned in his seat, watching us with interest. There’s an ease to his posture, like this is nothing out of the ordinary. I wish he was as affected by this as I am, but there’s something extra hot about him just sitting there. Like Edmund and I are in a nature documentary and Troy is only mildly curious about how our species operates.
However, the glow from outside lights occasionally passes over his lap, and I think I see a hardened bulge there.
Speaking of bulges, I wonder when I get to do something with Edmund’s. I can’t feel it because of the way we’re sitting. If my hands were free, I’d be touching and teasing him like he’s doing to me. I unlink my fingers behind his head and start to move.
“No.” He grabs my wrist and puts my hand back where it was. “Behave, and you’ll be rewarded.”
“Like I’m some kind of puppy?”
“If you want pet play, we can do that.” He says it without any judgment. Like he really would put a leash on me and feed me from a bowl. Not my thing, but his comfort level with it makes me curious about him.
Not curious enough to ask questions, not when he is finally moving his fingers to where I need them. My pulse pounds in anticipation. I feel it everywhere—drumming in my ears, my nipples, and especially my clit.
