Page 30 of Devil in the Details
She was panting.
“I bet you like the feel of that lace on your pussy, don’t you?”
“Pope. God.” She whispered that last word.
It took a lot of damn willpower not to just shove the fabric aside and thrust my fingers into her. A groan left me at that thought.
“Tell me, Olive. Tell me what you want.”
She stared at me with wide eyes, her lips parted.
“Touch me.”
Christ.
I didn’t waste another second. I pushed the material of her panties aside, that soft, delicate fabric that had my balls drawing up tight.
“Say it again,” I demanded.
“Touch me, Pope. Touch all of me.”
When I finally touched her pussy, all slick, smooth, hot, and wet flesh, I couldn’t stop myself from slamming my free hand on the wall beside her head. I leaned down to bury my face in the crook of her neck. She smelled so fucking good. I inhaled deeply then ran my tongue up the length of her throat. She tasted good too. So fucking good.
I worked my fingers on her pussy lips, moaned at the smoothness of her flesh, and started grinding myself against her.
“Tell me you like it.” The way she worked herself on my hand told me she did fucking like this. But I wanted to hear her say it. I needed to. “Tell me,” I demanded.
“I like it,” she said breathlessly.
“Yeah, you do.”
Olive let her head fall back against the wall and closed her eyes. I worked my fingers through her folds, moved them up and down her slit, and then started rubbing her clit back and forth.
“I want you, Olive. I need you,” I said against her neck.
“Tell me more,” she coaxed.
“You want to know it all? You want to know what I want to do to you?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“I want my cock in your pussy, want to feel how tight and wet you are for me, how slick I made you.”
“God,” she moaned.
“I want you in my bed, under me, giving me everything, because you can’t stand this sexual tension between us anymore, because you want me as much as I want you.” I stroked herfaster, harder, knowing if I kept this up she’d give me what I desperately wanted.
“Oh. God.” She started moving her hips back and forth, grinding her pussy on my hand.
I wanted to keep going, wanted her to get off for me, wanted her cream coating my fingers and palm.
“Please,” she whispered, and I knew I had to give her whatever she wanted.
I worked her over so good until she clutched at me like her life depended on it. She tipped her head back, closed her eyes, and finally gave me what I wanted.
Her surrender.
Her pleasure.
