Page 54 of Knocked Up by My Fake Fiancé
So he's a voyeur, is he? Not surprising, really. Most men are. Okay, if he wants to watch so badly, I'll give him something to look at.
I fix him with an insolent stare, and instead of pulling back, I dip my hand lower, parting my folds, stroking and teasing my entrance. Then I pull it back up to my clit, circling it, biting my lip as pleasurable sensations arc through me.
The smirk drops from Grayson's face. Instead, a storm takes over his features, and he reaches out to grip the doorway, as though to keep himself in place.
I ignore him, turn my eyes away and focus my attention on my fingers, moving sensually, performing for… who? For him, or for me? I don't think I even know myself. I recall all the feelings as he touched my clit last time, the subtle pressure he added with each brush of his clever fingers, but try as I might, I'm not skilled enough for that. Seems he knows my own body better than I do, damn him.
All I can manage is a pale imitation as I push down on the underside of my clit, making my body shake, as I cry out. "Oh fuck, yes."
"Shit." The sound is ripped straight out of his soul. I glance up to see him squeeze the doorway, before my eyes slide shut and once again, I'm immersed inside my own sensations.
I keep rubbing, playing with my pussy, splaying my legs farther apart so he can see more. All the while, my heart echoes with the words I really want to say.Yes. See me. Take me. Fuck me.
I bite my lip, keeping those incriminating words to myself, and when my inner walls start clenching down on air, I decide to push a finger in, almost experimentally.
My pussy clamps down on my finger, soaking it. I mewl and start fucking myself hard, imagining it's him. I slide two fingers in, riding it, moaning and crying, imagining it'shimdoing this to me.
My breathing becomes faster and more ragged, and I'm panting hard, the blood pounding in my veins. My nipples arepuckered, and I squeeze one of them so hard that my toes curl from the exquisite half-pain, half-ecstasy of the sensation.
I fuck myself harder, faster, his groans echoing in the background, spurring me on. I curl my fingers and finally hit the spot he previously found so effortlessly, and that's what triggers me. I go rigid, tense, then let out a shrill scream as my body convulses in a delicious, pink wave of pulsating orgasm.
When I come back down to earth, catching my breath, he's gone. Run away.
He challenged me…and he lost.
CHAPTER 16
Grayson
Istride into my bedroom, slamming the door behind me, the muscles in my neck feeling as tense as an iron bar, and with my heart pounding in my chest so I can hardly breathe. I need more air. I claw at my tie, pulling the ends and ripping the delicate silk until I can get it over my head and throwing it aside, before tugging aggressively—too aggressively, it turns out—at the collar of my shirt. I hear the rip of silk and then the ping of my top button flying off and landing on the tiled marble floor somewhere under my dressing table. A three-hundred-dollar shirt, destroyed. Because of her. Well, screw it. I've plenty more.
Damn the woman…but she sure knows how to play dirty.
My skin is on fire, my heart still beating like a war drum. The pounding echoes in my ears as my blood is pumped hard around my body. Yes… if I listen close enough, I can hear a command in that heartbeat.
It saysTake her. Take her. Take her.
I don't know how the hell I managed to pull myself away without grabbing her. Seeing her practically naked in that jacuzzi, her eyes glittering with desire, with dare. Then when she'd started touching herself, daring me to kiss that smug lookoff her lips and show her she's mine. The sounds she made, fuck, the pleading, the moaning...
I had damn near broken the door frame just from clinging onto it. My palms still sting from the pressure, but I don't care; I hardly notice.
Somehow, I had made it out of the doorway and fled from that dreadful yet wonderful temptation.
Take her. Take her. Take her.
I need to stop thinking like this. She'snotmine. This thing between usisn't real. We're just business partners, that's all. It's a deal. A business contract, like any other. One that comes with a "three feet apart at all times" rule.
"Business partners, yeah." I laugh out loud. "Who the hell am I kidding? Business partners? Yes, okay. But business partners who also happen to want to fuck each other's brains out.
I wonder what it is about her that drives me so insane. Sure, she's beautiful, but I've always had access to as much beauty as any man can possibly desire. Extreme wealth and—though I say so myself—an amazingly athletic physique, coupled with natural good looks and acres of self-confidence tends o do that for a man. I've tangled with far more beautiful women, and none of them had rendered me half this crazed. Is it her ambition? Her strength? Why is my hand shaking like a crack addict at the mere thought of her?
She's not special.I force the idea into my head until it sinks in.She's just a woman that I'm entertaining for the time. Nothing about her is special. She's only my business partner.
I say it again and again. I force my hands into fists against the wall, bracing myself.
I amnotgoing to go back down there and kiss her.
I amnotgoing to fuck her.
