Page 30 of His to Burn
“You,” I whispered, shame blooming hot across my chest.
His low groan vibrated through me. Then he pressed me back against the table, his hands on either side of me, caging me in, his gaze never leaving mine.
“You’re a nice girl. Clean,” he growled, his voice dark silk and gravel as his thumbroamed over my skin in erratic little patterns that had me teetering on the edge. “I want to get you dirty. You gonna let me?”
My breath came in shallow pants.
But I still didn’t lie.
“Yes.”
A ruthless sound left him.
Then his mouth crashed to mine again, devouring, claiming, as he slid his hand up my thigh.
Even through my pants, his touch was searing. Before I could process, he had my pants open and down and rubbed those same deliciously maddening patterns against my thick thighs.
Then he moved his hands up and hooked his thumbs into my sensible cotton panties, the ones I’d been excited to buy because they came with a bonus pair.
I certainly hadn’t expected a dangerous stranger to rip them off of me, but then again, today was the day for firsts.
The sound of my underwear ripping was loud in the quiet room and so shamefully erotic my pussy clenched when I heard it.
He cupped me then and slid finger along my slit. “Fuck, you’re wet already.”
“I hate you,” I whispered, the words more a plea than a declaration.
“You should, but you’ll fucking love this,” he said, his lips tracing my neck.
Before I could fire back a quippy comeback, he pushed a finger deep inside.
Didn’t give me a second to breathe before adding another.
A raw moan was ripped from throat when he scissored his fingers and then curved them, touching that spot that no one had ever been able to reach.
“Quiet, Counselor. Don’t want them to hear how good I’m fucking you,” he said.
Before I could respond, he stole one more savage kiss and then pulled back and watched himself fuck me with his fingers.
I whimpered when he added another finger, but he didn’t relent. “That’s right. Take it,” he demanded as he pushed his fingers as deep as they could go.
I clutched his shoulders and rocked my hips. My legs shook, heat coiling low and tight.
“Please—”
He grabbed my hair again, squeezing to the point of pain again. “Gonna come already? You that needy for me?”
A sob caught in my chest. “Yes, yes?—”
He stilled, and I cried out in protest. “Then fucking look at me while you do it.”
My eyes flew open, locking on his, and the orgasm slammed into me, blinding, brutal.
I cried out, my body convulsing around his fingers, and he groaned, burying his face in my neck.
“Good girl,” he said as me stroked my hair, almost tender now, but not quite.
Then I heard the lowsnickof his zipper, feeling the hot thick length of him sandwiched between my lips. He rocked his hips, the mushroom tip of his cock thumping against my clit.
