Page 65 of The Good Girl Effect
Then he leans in until his mouth is near my ear. “You should see the way they’re staring at you,” he mumbles softly. His hand closes around the front of my throat, and I let out a gentle whimper. He’s leaning over me from behind, touching me because he can. Because I let him tie me up and surrendered my body to him.
I wish he’d do more.
Even if sex is off the table, I want to savor every single touch. Every single moment that Jack is in my presence feels as good as sex to me.
With one hand at my throat, the other trails down my body, lightly drifting over my breast and belly. When he reaches my panties, my body tenses, and my breathing accelerates.
“I have you all to myself now, don’t I?” he whispers in my ear. “I could do whatever I want.”
I fight a smile as I lean back into him. What used to feel like torture feels like heaven now.
Touch me, tease me, make me want it. The wanting is the good part.
A moan escapes my lips as he slides his hand into my panties, and I nearly forget there is an audience watching.
“Is this breaking the rules?” he asks as his finger barely kisses the sensitive bud between my legs. “I can’t tell.”
My skin breaks out in a light sweat as he continues to tease me with his touch. Then his fingers dive deeper into my panties, and I jolt with anticipation, but my body is stuck in this position with nowhere to move.
And when he drags his finger through my folds, finding them soaked, he growls loudly in my ear. “God, you’re so wet, little bird.”
I don’t know if the room has grown quiet watching us or if the blood pounding in my ears is just so deafening I can’t hear them anymore, but it’s like Jack and I are the only two people who exist right now. With his hand between my legs, touching the most intimate part of me, nothing else matters but this moment.
He continues to tease me, running his finger through the moisture, sliding between the lips of my core without penetrating me, and it’s driving me mad with need. What I wouldn’t give to have him inside me.
The wanting has turned into needing, and needing hurts.
“You have been a very good girl for me, haven’t you?” he asks as his finger slides a little deeper.
I whimper against him as my neck starts to ache from stretching backward. The pain and the burn and arousal all blend into one until it’s everywhere and I can’t tell one from the other.
“Is it time for your reward, little bird?” he asks, sinking his middle finger to the first knuckle.
I fidget as a throaty, guttural sound escapes my lips. “Yes, please,” I beg.
“Shall we show them what good girls get?” he growls in my ear as his finger sinks deep inside me.
I groan loudly, trying to move although I’m completely bound. He holds me upright, and all I hear is his breathing in my ear as he slides his digit in and out, picking up speed and using his palm to rub against my clit.
“You are soaking my hand,” he says, only turning me on more.
The muscles in my thighs grow hot as I clench them, struggling to keep them apart when all I want to do is squeeze them together and ride out a much-deserved climax. Instead, my body surrenders to him, letting him wring out my pleasure like I’m a doll for him to play with.
“I’m almost there,” I squeak as I fidget some more.
“Oh, I can tell,” he whispers, kissing my neck.
His hand picks up speed, holding a steady tempo that draws all my attention and every ounce of blood in my body to that one sensitive spot. Pressing the heel of his palm against my clit, he draws quick, tight circles until the sensation explodes behind my eyes and my muscles seize with white-hot pleasure.
“That’s it, little bird. Let it go. Come for me.”
I let out a screaming gasp as my body answers to him, coming hard against his hand. My hips are thrusting and writhing as he continues the movement, letting me float through the climax for what feels like forever. My head is stuck in the clouds, focused only on the sensation and the need. But as I come down, I’m flushed with humiliation.
I just had a full-blown orgasm inpublic. People are watching. I’m mostly naked, blindfolded and tied up, and I just let Jack St. Claire get me off like some horny cat in heat.
“Oh my God,” I mumble as I try to turn my head toward him. The tight rope at the end of my braid keeps me from moving much at all.
“That was beautiful. Don’t be embarrassed.”
