Page 66 of Wicked Surrender

He’d asked me if a man had ever pleasured me. Now he had his answer. He was.

“Just like that,” he urged in a dirty whisper, kissing along my face until he sucked on the sensitive flesh under my ear.

“Spread your legs for me,” he whispered.

I breathed so fast that I feared someone would see me. Tucking my face against him, I clutched at the front of his shirt.

“Suck my finger,” he said as he pushed the tip in. “I want to feel this sweet little cunt.”

Oh, fuck.

His filthy talk turned me on faster.

I gasped, and he tipped his face against mine to prompt me to meet his lips.

As he pistoned his finger in and out of my body, he smeared more of my arousal, making a mess out of me.

“I asked you if anyone’s ever touched you here,” he growled, moving his thumb to my clit and rubbing circles around it.

I jerked at his touch, so close to coming already. If he hadn’t kissed me then, I would’ve alerted what he was doing to the whole diner.

“Keep those thighs spread,” he warned. Between his two fingers in and out of my pussy and his thumb around my bud of so many nerve endings, he tormented me.

“Now I know,” he said, victorious as he stared down at me. “Now I know.”

He kissed me, stunning me between the dual sensations down there under the table. Humping up against his hand, I willed him to make me come.

“Now I know.” He smiled against my lips. “It’s me. I’m the one to touch you like this.”

I moaned, so close to bursting as he kissed me again.

“And I’m going to be the one to make you come, Laura. You like being a good girl, don’t you?”

I whined at how close I was. Tension built and scaled higher. His fingers and thumb rocked me near that sweet release no man had ever given me before. Only toys and my hand could satisfy me.

Until Jason.

“Be a bad girl for me,” he taunted. “Be bad for once and come on my hand.”

I cried out, silenced by his hard kiss as I did so. I came, shocked by the utter bliss of his fingers playing with me, his mouth commanding me.

As I rocked and quivered against him, he kept up a slower rhythm of rubbing me, caressing me.

Then at last, when he reared back to watch me blink and catch my breath, I couldn’t help but wince.

He didn’t speak, just staring at me with that ravenous look in his eyes.

And under the greedy attention he put on me, I was suddenly afraid.

“I…”

He frowned, studying me as nervousness took over me. From the high of coming, I was thrust to the instant low of being intimidated.

“Is this a trick?” I stammered.

He pulled his hand away, scowling at me. “A trick?”

Oh, God. I’d hate myself if it were. “A trick. A prank.”

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