Page 29 of Bedding Rose
I glance back up from her delectable breasts, to find her eyes attempting to burn a hole right through me.
Busted.
I don’t really care. I’ve already told her how this night is going to end because I want her worked up and thinking about it as much as I am.
I’ve fucked my own hand at least five times to the thought of that kiss, the feel of her ass under my fingertips, her perky breasts pushed up flush against my chest. I’ve spent a ridiculous number of hours fantasizing about her pussy. Clean-shaven or groomed neatly? I’m guessing groomed because she seems too shy to stare at herself spread-eagled in front of a mirror and shave. That thought process led me into a whole new fantasy where she’s splayed out on a bathroom towel in front of me while I shave her myself, revealing that precious pink pussy inch by inch.
God—I’m fucked up. I even jerked off again in the bathroom next to her room when I got here, just to take the edge off so I’m not walking around unable to think with anything beyond a caveman brain all night.
I probably shouldn’t even have come. It’s probably a terrible idea, thinking I can restrain myself around her when every other thought I have is of spearing her cunt with my cock. But I’ve officially given into this obsession, the realization that she’s mine only energizing it further. Rose belongs to me and the need to claim her in every way possible, the need to get her to acknowledge and then embrace that claim pumps through me as surely and steadily as my own blood.
I had to tell her brother that I’m going through some shit and don’t want to be home thinking about it to score an invitation to tag along tonight. I’m going to ensure this opportunity doesn’t go to waste.
I give my little queen a salacious grin as I spread my knees wide so that my left knee knocks into her leg, and then I drape my arm across the top of the bench seat, walking my fingers slowly toward her.
She gasps and her eyes widen, staring down at where my knee deliberately rubs against hers before she turns her head up to glare at me and spies the hand that’s crawling closer.
My little Rose’s eyebrows arch in a challenge as she leans her elbow on the side door and tries to prop her head casually on it as she scoots her torso away, but we both know exactly what she’s trying to do. Resist me.
“Resistance is futile.” I quote, winking at her as my fingers descend. She pulls back but the window blocks her. She has nowhere left to go.
The sight of her eyes dilated, her chest rising and falling rapidly, makes me want nothing more than to unclip her seatbelt and drag her down across the seat before leaning over her and caging her beneath my body.
I dip my hand under her gorgeous curls, diving through the wild mass until I reach the back of her neck, where I trace a tiny circle on skin as soft as satin. God, just touching that tiny patch of her skin makes my dick thicken in my pants.
Her breathing becomes even more shallow than it was in the garage and her lips part, drawing my eyes to them.
I’d give anything to know what she’s thinking right now.
“What’s that?” her mother asks distractedly in response to my statement, not even glancing back at us. Still, Rose stiffens under my fingertips, nervous.
“Just encouragement. You’re going to kill it tonight, Ms. Dalton,” I lie, eyes firmly on her daughter.
Rose looks absolutely edible in that dress. It’s classy instead of revealing, but I love the red heels that hint at the spark she hides underneath her propriety. I wonder if she matched her panties to the shoes. The hope that she did sends a band of heat up my spine and I lick my lips in anticipation.
I’ll find out later. I meant what I said to her. I’m going to drag my thumbs along Rose’s thighs and kiss those scars until she’s begging me to kiss other places.
My expression must telegraph my intentions because Rose’s eyes widen in alarm.
She leans forward, escaping my fingers, and curls over her purse, digging out her phone. I watch her glare at the screen as she swipes it on. Seconds later, my phone buzzes.
I pull it out of my pocket to find a new text.
Rose:Stop it!
It’s a challenge to respond one-handed, but I refuse to give up the patch of skin I’ve claimed on her neck, so I type slowly.
Me:Stop what?
Rose:Behave.
Me:Or what?
Rose:You are infuriating.
Me:Well, you were pissed the other night before you attacked me with your lips. Maybe I want the same thing to happen tonight.
I hear her huff out a breath and glance up to see her click on my contact information. Dammit! She’s going to try to block me again. That’s not acceptable. I reach across the seat and pluck her phone from her fingertips.
