Page 27 of Rake

“Finn,” I whimper. “Please.”

Please what? Please don’t stop? What do I want him to do or not do? Why don’t I want to say no?

“That’s not what I said.” His fingertips slide under my panties, just barely. “Tell me to stop.”

I don’t know what to do. I’m afraid of making him angrier. Afraid of how my body feels beneath his. But I don’t want him to stop. I want him to touch me. God, why do I want him to touch me?

When I don’t respond, he shoves his fingers all the way into my panties, stroking my outer lips. I suck in a breath. It feels amazing.

“Has a man ever touched you like this before?” he asks, his fingers caressing me gently. “Don’t lie to me.”

I gasp. “No.”

“Good,” he snaps. “How often do you touch yourself?”

He slips a finger inside. Inside me. All the way inside, and I cry out at the intrusion, arching my back to meet him.

“I…I don’t.”

His eyes are like burning embers, his voice throaty and low. “Never?”

He glides his thumb across a part of me that makes me buck against his hand.

Well, not never. But growing up like I did, I didn’t have a lot of time to experiment with my body. When I did, I was never able to make myself orgasm. Even with the locks on my door and all the sex tips the drug store magazines had to offer, I could never relax enough to take the time I needed to climax.

But I’m panting now, terrified and turned on at the same time. I’ve never felt desire like this. He rubs me with his thumb again, more firmly this time.

I moan, and a look of absolute possession crosses his face. I like that he feels so strongly about me even though I know it’s stupid.

“Have you ever come before, Sasha? Do you know what that feels like?” His mouth is inches from mine.

“Please,” I beg, though I’m still not sure what I’m asking him for.

“I need to show you who’s in control.” His voice is husky. “Show you what happens when you disobey me.”

Is this supposed to be a deterrent? That’s not what it feels like. I want to feel more of the pleasure his touch is building in me.

His grip tightens on my wrists, and his other hand pushes deeper into my center. I make a noise that’s more animal than human, and he groans.

“God, you’re tight. Definitely a virgin.” He strokes my inner walls, and I tremble beneath him. His thumb targets that same spot again and again at the top of my pussy, rubbing in tight circles, and it feels incredible. My eyes drift to his crotch. How would that feel inside me? Would it feel this good? Better?

“You’re dripping wet, though.” His finger thrusts in and out of me while his thumb works my clit. Now I understood what all the magazines were going on about. He rubs me harder, faster, but then thrusts a second finger inside me. It hurts, and I let out a pathetic squeak.

“Fucking Christ.” He eases his fingers out of me and concentrates on pinching and stroking my clit. The pressure is intense, and I don’t know what to do. I feel like I’m going to snap in half when a wave of pleasure rips through me, and I buck wildly against him, giving in to the power of it. He slips a finger back inside me, my inner walls squeezing him.

He strokes me through it, that same fierce look in his eyes. My breath comes in soft pants as I shiver beneath him.

“Did that feel good?” he rasps, his mouth against my ear.

“Yes.” I’m too vulnerable to say otherwise. I’m ashamed at how good it felt. And at how I want him to keep touching me.

He smiles at my submission, and I hate myself for it.

“I like making you feel like this, Sasha. I can make you feel even better.” He strokes me a few more times. “Next time I’m going to bury my cock so deep inside this tight pussy,” he says, pushing on my clit. “Better that you don’t piss me off again.”

He pulls his hand away, licks his fingers, and climbs off of me, leaving me damp and panting on his couch.

8

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