Page 22 of Jerk
“You’re so desperate to prove you can handle me.” Squeezing my thighs together, I won’t admit what he’s doing to me. “Cute.”
“Unh, unh.” He pushes his knee between my legs, keeping them open. The cold blade of the skate caresses my aching nipple, and I fold my lips to make sure I don’t give him the satisfaction of how that makes me feel. Like I’m on a cloud. “Don’t deprive yourself, Kitten.” His fingers flirt with my skin, grazing my thigh as he lets the blade of the skate fall against my nipple. Another gasp escapes me, my back arching against him again. “You’re a feminist after all.” My mouth falls open when his finger slips between my legs. “You give in to my control, don’t you?”
“No.” My voice doesn’t have as much bite as I’d like. It sounds soft. Yearning.
“Then tell me to stop.”
“Controlling me doesn’t give you that power ba—” The way he slides his fingers between my slit brings my words to a shaking stop. I’m wet. I know he can tell. And that’s more embarrassing than how I felt at the gallery.
“You didn’t say stop,” he chuckles, that blade sliding back up to my throat. “I’ll give you five seconds to take that back, and I won’t bury my fingers deep inside you to teach you a lesson about control. Five…”
“Your blade’s against my throat,” I push out.
“Tell me to stop and I’ll move it. Four.” Words don’t leave my mouth as his fingers graze my throbbing clit back and forth like a magician’s watch. Hypnotizing. “Three.” His voice gets lower, like he’s noticed I’m not stopping him. His countdown only fills me with an aching anticipation that drives me so crazy I buck against his fingers. His chuckle rolls through me as he pats his fingers against my clit, each one making me shiver. “Patience, Kitten, I keep my word. Two.”
“Please,” I whisper, and suddenly I’m the one in Coach’s office begging. My cheeks burn at the thought, a roll in my stomach when I imagine Coach coming back to find us like this. This jersey hiked to my chest, Rye’s fingers between my legs and a skate to my throat. I must be as batshit as they say because right now? I don’t care. Pushing back on him tells me he wants this as much as I do, his hardness against my ass. “We shouldn’t?—”
“One.”
A soft moan escapes me when his long fingers enter me, my body embarrassing me with how easily they slide in.
“Oh fucking god…” It feels like I’ve found water on Mars, my body relaxing against him. The room spins as he thrusts his fingers inside me, a slow rhythm before he quickens his pace.
“What excites you about a blade to your throat while my fingers are inside you, Hannah?” His words landing against my face, I grind against his fingers. He curls them, hitting a spot that makes my vision blur. He plays me like he plays our games. Calculated. Wild. Consuming. “What excites you about me controlling you?”
My answer? More moans.
He claims my body in a way that turns me into a freaking zombie. He moves his fingers not like he’s trying to get me off, no, he’s taking me for a ride. He rubs his thumb against my clit as he thrusts his fingers harder into me, my back hot against his warm chest.
“You don’t…” Trying to speak just makes me sound stupid, my words trailing off into a long moan.
“Control you?” He brings that skate up to my lips, a jolt up my spine. The way he uses his fingers feels like a symphony in my body. “Be quiet, Kitten, unless you want everyone around to hear what I do to you.” He picks up his pace when I try to speak,curling his fingers in tandem when they reach the top of his thrusts.
“Holy fuck.” My ass grinds against him, but that only makes him chuckle, the vibrations rolling through me. My body falls back against him as the entire room fades away. For a second, it’s just me in his arms as he moves his fingers, keeping me in the clouds for what seems like a decade.
“You want to come, I can feel it,” he growls in my ear. “I can feel you tightening on my fingers, Hannah. I can feel how wet you are for me.” His words urge me on, and if this is Rye in full control, I can’t be mad. He’s taking me all the way there. He’s taking me to—oh fuck. I tighten around his fingers as he chuckles some more, but I’m a gasping mess. My body shakes against him, the entire room a blur. “Show me what I do to you.”
It’s like he’s done this a thousand times, his fingers moving inside me like he knows every cranny. Then it hits me like a freight train.
“Fuck yes!” I cry, my skin tingling, my body quaking as I shatter against him. For a second, everything fades. My worries. My parents. My grades. Everything but us.
“That’s a good girl.”
His last words make the room crash back. The medals. The trophies. The team photo. Turning to meet his eyes, they look smug as he brings his fingers to his lips, licking them one by one.
As for me? I’m speechless with jelly knees and my mouth stuck together.
Pushing off him, I pull down the jersey and head for the door, his laughter following me. My cheeks burn on the way, my head so fucking twisted that I don’t notice Mac until I bump into his chest.
“The fuck, Hannah?” he asks, aggressive as always. When I look up at him, he looks past me, and I glance back with him.
Rye stares at us through the Coach’s office window, that smug smirk still on his face.
NINE
RYE
“Stay away from Hannah.”
