Page 63 of Fluke
I’ve played it pretty freaking cool, I think—since we got back to Jess’s house, at least.
It helps that he makes me so comfortable. It’s impossible not to be confident when a man like him fawns all over you in the most authentic, genuine way. But it’s also impossible not to want to lose your mind when he delays your gratification. I’m currently sporting the female version of blue balls.
My thighs are stuck to the cool white stone countertop, and I know there will be a spot from my ass when I get up—but I can’t worry about that right now.
I have more important, hotter matters to contend with.
“Here you go,” I say, dangling them in front of him.
I wonder if he can hear my heart pounding.Does he see the flurry of goose bumps breaking out across my skin as he takes my hands in his? He gives them a gentle tug, scooting me forward.
His chest is a work of art; his shoulders are crafted by the hands of angels that woke up feeling like doing a favor to women on Earth.
“What are you doing?” I ask him.
He brings my palms together. Then he wraps my underwear around them, cinching my wrists together a little tighter than necessary, and quickly fashions a knot.
“You better hope I didn’t like those,” I say.
“You aren’t getting them back anyway. Now lie down.”
I’m not? “Can I have another kiss first?”
“Nope.”
He helps me swing my legs onto the counter and then reclines me until my back is flat against the stone.
“Arms over your head,” he says, taking my bound hands and dragging them where he wants them. Until I’m stretched out and displayed just for him.
Oh fuck.
My breath shakes, coming out in raspy waves.
The countertop is hard and cold beneath me—and I am totally exposed.
I gulp, squirming to find a more comfortable—less vulnerable—position. But as I start to move, Jess puts a hand on my belly.
“Stop moving,” he says.
I begin to draw my arms down, but he snatches my hands up and moves them back to their original position.
He smirks. “Remember howhelpfulyou were at dinner?”
No…
He trails a finger around my stomach, feathering the pad along the ridge of my sex. I shiver at the contact. I lift my hips to encourage more contact, but he grips my leg suspiciously close to my opening and holds me still.
“I’m going to explore every piece of your body,” he says slowly, stroking my leg to my calf and back up the inside of my thigh.
“You should try between my legs. It’s been a long time since it was explored.”
He grins. “I’ll get there.”
“You should hurry.”
“Nah, I think I’ll take my time. You seem to like it when I do that.”
“It makes me hate you, actually.”
