Page 95 of Dirty Husband
"Is this what you want?"
I nod into the table.
He drives his fingers into me again.
"More," I breathe.
He does it again and again. A steady rhythm that winds the tension inside me tighter and tighter. "You get what I want, princess."
That already feels so good. His digits inside me. His body inside mine.
"When I decide you want it badly enough." He pushes his fingers into me again and again. He drives his fingers a little deeper. A little harder.
It hurts for a moment, then the hurt fades to pressure. Then pleasure. So much I have to close my eyes. So much I have to bite my lip.
I reach for a response, a dare, something. But the only thing I find is a moan.
Words are fuzzy. Far away. The rest of the world is fuzzy and far away.
I only experience what's here and now.
The slick cherry table. The orange light falling over the apartment. The ruffle of chiffon against my skin.
Shep's hand on my back.
My dress at my thighs.
His firm fingers driving into me, winding me tighter and tighter.
Again and again.
Almost—
"Come for me, princess." He pushes his palm into my back a little harder. Just enough I know I'm his.
Then he brings his thumb to my clit. Up and down in the tiniest, softest movements until—
"Fuck." With the next brush of his fingers, I go over the edge. The tension inside me unwinds, flows through my pelvis, my torso, my limbs.
I dig my nails into the table. Into my thighs.
I groan his name as I come.
I expect him to release me. Order me onto my knees. Shove his cock inside me. But he doesn't. He keeps running his finger over my clit.
Again and again.
My sex whines. It wants more, but it can't take more. The pressure is too intense.
Again.
It's not enough. It's too much.
But it's bliss too.
He digs his nails into my back. When I groan, he growls. "Good girl."
It pushes me over the edge. Everything gets fuzzy. Everything except the bliss washing through my body. Making the world into someplace pure and beautiful.
