Page 117 of Only in Your Dreams

Zac runs his hands down my sides, feeling my body hungrily. He grabs my ass and I’m so wound up, have been aching for more of this man since last night that I moan from that alone.

“I could live off that sound,” he tells me, dropping his mouth to my shoulder. “Did you wear this dress for me?”

Of course, I did. We both know it. But he’s playing with me, making me confess it, and I’ve never been able to resist fucking with him given the chance. Last night, teasing him to his breaking point had been half the fun.

“I wore it for myself—”

“Liar.”

He reaches under my dress, fingers curling in the waistband of my panties, and drags them down my legs.

In the mirror, I see him tuck the fabric into his back pocket.

“Am I getting those back?”

“Nope.”

God, I hate how hot that single word makes me.

Zac wrenches my dress over my hips. Kicks my legs apart. Lets out a soft groan at the sight of me bare, bent over, and spread out in front of him. My nails dig into the counter.

“So fucking pretty, Melody. I could stare at you like this all day.”

I sway my hips, and he tips his head enjoying the view. “I’d rather you do something with it.”

Agonizingly slow, especially for someone apparently trying for a revenge quickie in a bar bathroom, Zac smooths his hands up and down my thighs and it feels like a flame thrower running along my skin, lighting me up as it goes. His first touch is soft. Just a gentle stroke with the back of his finger, up and down my pussy until my thighs relax, knees spread a little wider. He finds my clit and my entire body melts. His finger strokes so gently it’s a caress, but every brush sends something raging hot ripping through my body.

Zac meets my eye in the mirror. “No bra tonight?”

I look down at myself, the way my nipples strain against my dress. “What is it with men losing their minds at the sight of a nipple?”

“What is it with your nipples getting hard while you’re locked in an empty bathroom with me, with that tight, little ass of yours bent over the counter?”

“The dress is too tight for a bra. And my tits are almost nonexistent, so it doesn’t really matter.”

That pisses him off. Zac rips the straps of my dress down my shoulders and shoves the top until my breasts pop out of confinement. I’m in feral disarray in this mirror, cheeks pink, hair spilling all over the place, panting absurdly hard. Now wearing this dress like a belt around my waist.

“Your tits are fucking perfect and I won’t hear another word against them,” he says as he palms them. “Who’d you wear this dress for, Clover?”

“Mysel—” I cry out at the feel of him reaching to stroke my clit between two fingers. “F-fuck.”

Just as fast, his fingers disappear. “You,” I gasp. “I wore it for you.”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He smirks, drops a kiss on my shoulder. “Here’s how this is going to work, Clo. I touch, you talk. If you hold back—if you lie to me? I send you back out there soaking wet and needy. You got me?”

Zac’s fingers find their way back, and there’s a kind of dark gleam in his eyes that tells me just how much he means it. Zac is a great sport. He lets me endlessly tease him, push his buttons to my heart’s content.

Apparently, he’s taking over that game tonight.

He taps my clit, and it’s like a lightning bolt through my entire body. “You got me, Clo?”

“I got you,” I whisper.

“That’s my girl. Now, tell me the truth: did you kiss Brooks?”

“You should have stayed to see for your—”

Zac doubles his pressure on my clit, switches from strokes to tight, incredibly irritatingly perfect circles and I can’t help myself. My head falls forward and my moan echoes around us. And then he pulls away.

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