Page 42 of Beneath the Surface

There it is.

My fingers are drenched, her juices literally seeping onto my hand and down my wrist. I can tell she’s close.

So I stop and lean back.

She groans, her head slapping against the couch cushion.

“Do you deserve to come, little bird?”

She says something, but it’s muffled under my hand. I lean in toward her. “What was that? I can’t hear.”

Her eyes flare.

“Do I need to make you beg for it?”

My free hand, still by her thighs, rears back, and I bring it forward, smacking the top of her pussy. My eyes never leave her face, waiting for her to either say it’s too much or to show a sign that she doesn’t like it.

She whimpers, her hips thrusting against my palm.

My chest expands, my cock harder than it’s ever been, and my hand comes down again.

Another moan, her eyes rolling back in her head.

I start up a slow and steady rhythm, her pussy lips swelling, blooming a beautiful shade of pink from the harsh sting of my hand. I alternate slaps with my palm rubbing tenderly against her mound.

Jesus Christ, she’s so responsive.

She’s close as fuck, I canfeelit.

Leaning forward, my chest presses against hers. Her neck glistens with a light sheen of sweat, and I can’t help but lick along the expanse of her throat before letting my lips skim across her ear.

“Do you like my hands on you?” I ask, my fingers rolling in a slow, circular motion on her clit.

She shakes her head no.

My stomach jolts with excitement.

“You filthy little liar.”Smack.“You can act like you don’t want me to touch you, but this—” my fingers dip down to her entrance, dipping them inside until they’re slathered in her juices, before bringing them to her mouth. She tries to turn her head, but I grasp her jaw, locking her in place, smearing her cream over her lips. “This tells me different.”

My fingers push so tight against her face I can feel the imprint of her teeth through her skin, and my tongue licks up the wetness coated across the seam of her lips. I pry her mouth open with mine, swirling her arousal between us, my balls tightening from the way her groan reverberates through my body. My hand dips down to her pussy, starting the slow torture of friction, and when her legs tremble around my hips, I lean back, raising my palm and bringing it down sharply in three quick slaps.

And that’s all it takes. Her body bends like a pretzel as she shakes, her mouth gaping open. I dive down, my lips tangling with hers and sucking in her scream, keeping her as quiet as possible while she rides the explosion.

Slowly, she comes back down to earth, her body trembling in my arms, and mine aching with the need for relief. But, this isn’t about me tonight. If she wants me totakeit, I need to make sure she trusts me.

Still, I can’t help the tendril of satisfaction worming its way inside at the way she’sfinallyletting me in. The thought makes guilt slither around my spine, tightening like a constrictor.

She doesn’t even know who you are.

I ease the feeling by telling myself shedoes.She may not know who I truly am or what I’m really here for, but in this moment, she knows me better than anyone else. Like she could draw up the innermost parts of me with a single look. And not the surface-level bullshit, like your hobbies or your favorite colors. Not even the past experiences or present struggles. I’m talking about that soul-deep shit. Where your energy connects with theirs and you twine together, riding the same vibration. Tuned into the same frequency.

That’s rare.

That’s something in the storybooks.

And that’s something I was convinced didn’t really exist. Only now, I’m finding it in her.

So even though I know I should pull back and get my head on straight. Either go through with what I’m hired for, or tell her the truth of why I’m here in the first place… I don’t.

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