Page 22 of Just a Little Crush
Oh my god.Alistair Rendall? Surely not. The gentleman of all gentlemen has a dark side.
“You want someone who’s not afraid to get a little rough?” I’ve read every kind of smutty book going, concocted a million fantasies, and I’ve never been more turned on than I am from just a shoulder rub and a handful of suggestive sentences.
“Exactly,” he says, his voice low, almost taunting. “I don’t think there’s anyone in this town like me.” How have I not known this about him? Has someone who can give me what I need been in front of me this whole time?Could he? Would he? There’s only one way to find out.
“Rennie...” I close my eyes and hope I won’t regret this. “I think I’m like you. And I’m not afraid to be pushed.”
12
Rennie
Jesus,fuck.Howisthis happening?One minute we’re watching TV, then she’s asking me to get her off. Now she’s telling me she’s not afraid of getting a little rough?
My head and my dick are raging against each other. My head says I’ve pushed her into this. I could tell she was frustrated about something, I just didn’t expect it to be that. My dick says,God, I love touching her.My head tells me I’m taking advantage of her situation, but this is Bec, I’ve always tried to do what’s right by her. My dick says,What’s an orgasm between friends in her hour of need?My gut says I’m far too eager to take this further.
I don’t even know if she’s saying what I think she’s saying. Is she asking me to be rough with her? I’ve never really spoken about this stuff with anyone before, and even now we’re dancing around it. I’ve spent my life pushing those desires deep down. I know you’re not supposed to want to touch women this way.
“Renn?”Shit, I didn’t realise I’d stopped moving.“You OK?”
“Are you?”I can’t move.
“I’m good. That feels great. Keep going.”OK, I can do this.
I run my hands back up to her shoulder and with one keeping her in place, I coast the other down over her chest. From this angle, I’m blessed with the beautiful view of the rise and fall of her breasts under my hand. Her white vest has ridden up a little, exposing a sliver of tender flesh above the waistband of her pyjama shorts. I want to taste it, bite it, mark it, make it mine.
I focus on the shift in her breathing when I stroke my fingers across the bare skin there. I’ve thought about this thousands of times, but never imagined she would feel so good. I force myself to concentrate on the massage, rubbing the rest of the oil into her soft skin. I know she’s horny and frustrated, she said so herself, but I feel paralysed. I said I would help, but I have no idea where to go from here.
As if she can read my thoughts, she says, “Renn, touch me more.”
I grip the hem of her top in my fist and pause. I should end this. This is a dangerous game to play with her, and if I start, I might not be able to stop. But it’s too late, I’ve already got her in my arms.
With every hour I’ve spent in her recent company, it’s becoming increasingly apparent that I know nothing about Rebecca Charlton. I don’t know where she goes or who she dates. I don’t know what she likes and what gets her screaming, but I’m dying to find out. If she wants my help, then she’s damn well going to get it. I drag the front of her vest up over her tits, and we both groan when they spring free.
I saw Bec topless once, years ago, when a bunch of us went to an old school friend’s beach wedding and ended up skinny dipping after too many beers. I’ve held onto the memory of that night, the silhouette of her frame in the moonlight, the full curve of her breast, but this is something else. She arches her back, her nipples point skyward, and my dick rages behind her.
I hold the bunched fabric at her throat, careful not to add any pressure near her bruise, and reach the fingers of my other hand up to trace the edges of her pretty little mouth. She follows my lead, parting her lips and darting her tongue out to wet the tips of my fingers. It takes every ounce of control not to slip them further inside, to push her to the edge of her comfort.
Pulling them free, I lower my hand to run my slick fingertip gently around her nipple and watch it stiffen under my touch. I can’t believe she’s letting me do this.
“Yes,” she hisses. When I glance back at her face, she has her eyes closed. I wonder where she goes in her head. I don’t want her thinking of anyone else, so I pinch the other nipple hard and bring her focus back to me.
“Do you have a toy or something you want me to use?”
“You didn’t pack it!” she smacks my thigh, playfully. “I just want you.”
Fuck, that feels good to hear.I bring my hand to her mouth, and I’m firmer this time, pushing two fingers between her lips, reaching for the back of her tongue. She closes firmly around them and I feel her lapping at me, sucking them deeper into her mouth. Hell, if this is what she’s like with my hand, I can’t imagine how she’d feel if she blew me.
No, I literallycan’timagine it, because if I think about it for more than a second, I’m gonna come in my underwear. I pull my fingers from her mouth, and push my hand straight into the front of those tiny fucking shorts, wet fingers seeking her heat.
The sound of her whimpering has me throbbing against her back as she squirms under my touch. She must feel how much of an effect this is having on me.
“This what you need?”
“God yes.”
She’s already soaked. I force myself to focus on slow, rhythmic strokes, exploring her with no sudden movements that might aggravate her injuries. Bec might be challenging everything I ever thought I knew about her, but she’s still this precious thing. I have to keep her safe in my arms. Her body tenses when my fingertips home in on her clit and start working her in soft, lazy circles.
“Can you come like this?” I want to make her feel as good as she feels when she’s on her own, to touch her as well as she touches herself.
