Page 68 of The Sinner and the Scholar
This is just a distraction—for both of us. This is just because I pushed him. It won’t happen again.
“Tell me you don’t want this.” He glides his finger into my entrance and pumps.
I clench around him and whimper.
“You know I’m fucking hot for you,” I breathe. “I have been since…”
“Since the archives,” he mutters. “Then why not…”
“Because…”
“Don’t overthink it, Thea,” he murmurs. “Let me…”
“Yes. God, yes.”
He buries his face where I need it most. He brings me to climax in seconds. I shove my mouth against the seat to muffle my cry while he coos praise to my pussy as it pulses, and he licks and draws out the last of my desire until there’s nothing left.
Let us question what others call sin…
I’m draped over the seat, exposed, and don’t care. I don’t care that I failed in my quest to use him. I don’t care that I never received the pain. This catharsis is of a different kind. One I didn’t know existed. It’s making my eyes burn and my throat clog. All I want now is to feel him move inside me, to experience more of this euphoric connection between us.
But he doesn’t make a sound. I don’t know what he’s doing behind me.
“Wes?”
No answer.
“Wes!”
I wriggle my hands and maneuver to unlock the belt clasp. I’m out of my restraints in seconds. When I whirl to face him, I find him kneeling. His lips glisten from my release. His cheeks are flushed. His specs crooked. A sheen of sweat covers his now naked torso, muscles perfectly defined with restrained lust. His hand is wrapped around his cock, half out of his unbuttoned jeans, the tip purple from the force of his grip. But he’s not moving. He’s squeezing himself as though he can stop the need.
Sultry lust drenches his expression. There is no pretending anymore. He’s so far gone, so tortured by his feelings for me, that I know we’ll never be able to fight them again.
I know this because I feel the same way.
I should leave him to finish alone, protect both our hearts. But something urges me forward, drives my palms to his chest, and forces him onto his back. He helped me accept my feelings, and I want to return the favor. I tug his jeans off.
“Thea,” he whispers, brows meeting in the middle as he straightens his spectacles. “You don’t have to do this.”
My gaze narrows as I straddle his hips and pause. “Are you trying to back out of this?”
Helplessness flares out of his eyes. His mouth opens. Shuts.
“No,” I say. “You don’t get to play the white knight, and you don’t get any more excuses.”
I fit the tip of his cock to my core and impale myself with a gasp of sweet pleasure-pain. But it’s nothing compared to the distress on Wesley’s face as he adjusts to the sensation of being inside me.
“Fuck, love. You’re so tight,” he rasps, squirming as I finish lowering until he fills me.
A groan of carnal satisfaction rumbles out of him. But when his lips finally curve on one side, in pure male bliss, I find myself smiling back.
How could I not? That joy is because of me. The urge to wring more from him makes me gyrate my hips. It’s only small. A quivering. But his smile broadens until his beauty blinds me.
“More, love.”
I’m stunned.
Frozen.
