Page 37 of Trustfall

Then he scoops me up in one swift move and carries me into the living room.

He drops me down onto the couch with such force that I bounce back up, and he lifts my scrub top off, discarding it on the floor.

“In here?” I question. “But Allie?—”

“Said she’ll be back late.”

“Oka—” I’m cut off as Luke yanks my legs down to the edge of the couch. Before I know it, my scrub pants are pooled around my ankles. I pull them the rest of the way off and toss them aside with my foot. Then I hear a thud and look down to see Luke on his knees in front of me, his eyes fixed on me like a predator. He licks his lips, his gaze locked on mine. “I need to taste you again,” he says, his voice low. “I've been thinking about it since last night."

He’s staring straight at my panties, no doubt seeing the embarrassing wet spot, but I don’t even care. His eyes flick up to mine again, conveying a silent request for permission. I nod slowly, trying not to appear too needy. He doesn’t waste any more time as he moves my panties to the side and thrusts two fingers in at the same time. The gasp that escapes me feels like it’s coming from a different person. I'm having that out-of-body experience again as if I’m watching the scene from afar.

“How do you feel about edging?” he asks as he comes up higher on his knees to look at me. I jump, having been completely lost in the sensation of his fingers, which he now lazily glides in and out of me.

“Edging? Like where I don’t get to come? Doesn’t sound great,” I admit, finding it hard to concentrate on anything other than the feel of him. I don’t even know how I know that term. I have to imagine it has something to do with Allie.

He laughs. “Oh, youwillget to come. It just might take a little while. If you don’t like it at any point, you can say red, and I’ll stop.”

I freeze. “Are you giving me a safe word?”

“I am,” he says as he lowers himself back down so close I can feel his hot breath brushing against my clit. “You got a problem with that?”

“No, but…don’t I get to come up with my own?”

He stills for a second and lifts his head. “Do you want to?”

“Not when you’ve gone to great lengths to come up with such a creative one,” I tease.

A sly smirk spreads across his face, his eyes darkening, as he starts pumping his fingers again, slow—painfully slow. “Careful, Emory. This can end one of two ways for you…”

My eyes flutter closed as I take in the feel of his breath against me. Of course, doubt creeps in as it always does. Maybe he didn’t come up with that safe word out of the blue.

“Have you used that before? Red?”

He shakes his head as he continues his slow, torturous ministrations. “I’ve never used a safe word with anyone.”

Oh.Oh.

“Emory.”

“Yeah?” I mumble, my thoughts drifting as the pleasure builds in my core.

“I need your words. Are you okay with this?”

“Yes,” I say, my lids fluttering closed as his movements become faster, harder.

“Emory.Look at me when you say it.” It’s not a suggestion. It’s a command, and I feel myself getting wetter from it.

My eyes slide up to meet his. “Yes,” I say again. “Do your worst.”

“With pleasure,” he says, a sly grin plastered across his gorgeous face. “But first, I need your hands.”

He pulls his fingers out, and I let out a mortifying gasp at the sudden loss. His hands fly to his belt, and my eyes widen. What is he doing? My breath catches as he yanks it out of his belt loops in one swift motion.

“Hands, baby,”

I don't think; I just react. I bring my hands together and offer them to him. He wraps the belt around them, securing it so I'm unable to move.

“You'll want to touch yourself to ease the ache,” he explains. “But you don't get to choose when that happens. I'm the one who decides when you're ready for relief. Got it?”

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