Page 34 of Begging for Mercy
But if I pretend that my fingers are Zane’s?—
A gasp escapes past my lips as I slide my fingers over my clit.Whoa.That’s… wow. Biting my lip, I rub up and down slowly, closing my eyes to picture Zane better. The stubble on his chin tickles my neck, and his hot breath crackles in my ear. Something electric zings up my spine, and I muffle my cries as my hips start to move on their own.
This is wrong. Wrongwrongwrong. Zane doesn’t want to have sex with me, so I shouldn’t?—
I’m going to make you come on my fingers, Kitten.
I whimper. Liquid heat spills from my center, and I gently glide my fingers across my entrance. I’ve been burning up every night this week, ever since all three of those men showed me something new.
Kane let me grind on him, and then he masturbated becauseIturned him on.
Sam not only showed me his dick, but he let me stroke it with him and showed me what he likes.
And Zane—I curve my finger and try to hit the same spot he did. My heart races as I plunge my fingers inside my pussy, desperate for the same friction, the same tingling pleasure, the same crescendo?—
I grind on my hand, but it’s not the same. Frustrated, I try different positions. Arched back. Curled on my side. Lying on my stomach. Ass in the air. Hips flat to the mattress. But nothing works. The pressure and heat build, but there’s nowhere for it to escape. I can’t release it. I don’t know how.
Tossing and turning becomes an understatement. Sweat pools beneath my back, wetting my sheets. My pussy throbs, and I grab my breasts in a desperate attempt at relief. Nothing works, and I don’t know what to do.
…but I know someone who might.
Grabbing my phone from my nightstand, I pull up Sam’s contact info. He was nice enough to teach me about how he finds pleasure, so… maybe he can tell me how it works… for women? Even that sounds ridiculous in my head. I might as well call my sister, but it’s two A.M. I can’t bother her with something like this. She’llknowwhat’s going on, and that’s embarrassing!
Then again, if I text Sam…
He’ll probably figure it out, too.
I’m between a rock and a hard place, and neither of them are going to get me off.
Just when I’m about to give up, my phone vibrates.
Can’t sleep?
I stare at the text message for a long time, not knowing who it’s from. My thumbs hover over my screen, but I decide not to answer. They probably have the wrong number.
Neither can I, but it’s your fault.
Someone’s being a very bad girl.
My breath catches as I read and reread the messages. I must read them half a dozen times, and I’m still stunned. Who’s texting me?
Who’s watching me?
Jumping out of bed, I cover myself with my bedsheet and cross to the window. Moonlight covers the yard with clouds blowing past to obscure its light. I stare out the window for a long time, looking for whoever is spying on me. But I don’t see a flicker of light or any signs of movement. It’s like I’m alone…
But then my phone vibrates again.
I unlock my phone with shaking hands.
Tell me how wet you are, and I’ll help you.
Help me what?
Come
You want to come, don’t you?
You’ve been trying for hours.
