Page 73 of Game Changer

He spreads my thighs again and waits.

“Oh, no, that’s not happening,” I say.

There’s no way I’m getting myself off while he watches. He might think it’s considerate, but it dials up the performance pressure another level because I literally am performing—for him.

“Because you don’t want to, or because you’re afraid?” he asks.

I watch him over me like an animal about to pounce on its prey. He’s so big and intimidating and powerful, even like this.

He must see something on my face because he shifts up my body so that his hips are cradled between mine. My thighs spread even wider, as if they have a mind of their own, which they might as well because I am now putty in his hands.

“Don’t think about me. Touch yourself,” he murmurs against my mouth.

“I can’t,” I whisper.

“Yeah, you can. I bet you’re good at it, too.”

Between his words and his lips, breathing is impossible.

“I’ll wait,” he goes on between kisses. “But I can feel how bad you want it. And pretty soon, you won’t be able to hold out.”

I brush my fingers over my clit, and my hips snap up.

His groan of encouragement lights me up. “That’s it. Good girl.”

My shower fantasy rises up, only it’s so much hotter in person.

He grips my hip, his thumb pressing next to my hipbone while his fingers dig into the flesh of my ass.

I give in to the sensations coursing through me and arch against the hand—my hand—between my legs.

Any self-consciousness slips away at the delicious pleasure of it, the way he growls his approval when I moan into the silent room.

“That’s it, Pink.”

I twist my face against the pillow. It’s too much. It’s everything.

“Need a taste.” He grabs my hand and sucks my fingers into his mouth. “Knew it. Cotton candy.”

Shit.

He’s so hot, but more than that, he makes me feel hot.

Like when he guides my left index finger back into my core, as if he can’t stand that I’m empty for another second.

I gasp as I am pushed all the way in, my knuckles bumping my entrance.

“Clay,” I whisper, but the word is cut off by another moan as he slides another finger inside. I am full and tingling, and I’ve never felt like this before.

“Fuck me, you’re beautiful.” His murmured praise against my hip bone sends a shiver down my spine.

He works my fingers in and out of me, the heel of my hand grinding against my clit.

My hips tilt and roll as my fingers hit the little spots inside me that make me moan.

“Harder,” I say because my whole body is arching, twisting, and burning for more.

His eyes squeeze shut as he brings my fingers in hard and fast.

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