Page 46 of Forbidden Love Still Blooms

He wants me tobegfor release.

And as my clit bulges, throbs, demands focused attention to relieve me of the constant hot waves assaulting my lower belly …

I know he'll get what he wants.

Panting, I thrust back at him, unable to control my maddening need for firmer touch. Jordan chuckles in the base of his throat. “Greedy girl. You don't decide how I touch you.”

“Jordan, this is—can we really—”

“Fuck?” he cuts me off. “We can. We will.” He tugs my panties into my folds until he's pushing them against my clit. Color flashes in my vision. “If you keep acting like a spoiled brat, I might change my mind.”

I've never been called a brat in my life. It's a petty insult, and another time I would have rolled my eyes. But here, under the sinful spell he's cast, his words make my heart pound. His threat to deny me what he's been building an irrational need for sends new tingles across my tongue. His dirty talk is waking up parts of me I didn't know existed.

Every part of my body is on high alert—the second he puts two fingers on either side of my pussy, sandwiching them, I stiffen with a whimper. “Please,” I groan.

“That's better. It's one of my favorite words from your pretty lips, Lorikeet.” Jordan slides the useless strip of wet fabric to the side. I go to spread my feet to give him better access, but he says, “No. Put your knees together.”

Confused, I do as he says, inching my shoes to the middle until I'm pressing my legs around his wrist. Never once have I heard a guy ask a woman to close off her body. It's always breaking her damn hips apart like a wishbone in porn.

“Now,” he whispers thickly in my ear, “Squeeze your cunt for me. Squeeze everything as hard and tight as you can, sweet bird.”

Closing my eyes, I tense up my inner muscles. The pressure is delicious—it shocks me how amazing it feels. From my calves to my torso, I become a solid block. It reminds me of how a good stretch feels after sitting in one place too long, the same brand of endorphins rushing to my brain. I'm wringing Jordan's wrist with my thighs, locking him down from doing anything else, waiting for him to tell me to loosen up.

He puts his fingertips to my clit, the only part of him that moves, and begin caressing it. “Oh my god,” I gasp, startling at how different it feels. It was exquisite before, but now, with every muscle inside of me taut as a spring, it's otherworldly. Fantastical. Addicting.

I'm addicted. I know it before the first tingles of orgasm start up. I know once I climax, I'll be hooked on this … onhim.And it's everything I wanted to avoid. I know all of this down to my soul.

“Please, please, I'm so close,” I groan.

“There it is. I knew you could do it. Good girl,” he whispers, kissing my temple.

His praise washes over me. Lying flat on the drafting table I encourage him with another throaty moan of, “Please, let me come. I need to come so bad, Jordan, just let me. Please, please …”

“Christ,” he growls under his breath. His fingers speed up, driving me close to the orgasm. I'm losing my sanity. All at once his hand vanishes. “You don't deserve it yet, sweet bird.”

“What?” I shout furiously. Pushing my feet apart, I spin around, eyeing him over my shoulder in disbelief. Jordan stands behind me—he lifts his hand, fingers shiny with some of my juice. He licks them the way he did earlier, after the strawberry. A deluge of arousal hits me.

He says, “You beg really well, Lorikeet. I almost forgot I was planning to punish you.”

My chest flares up and down from my deep pulls of air. “Fuck you,” I say coldly.

Jordan's smirk is sharper than a knife. “We talked about that. Don't make me repeat myself.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I run my hands through my hair, clutching at the roots. It hurts so I do it harder; anything to distract me from the ache in my pussy. “Do you get off on torturing people? What do you really want from me?”

“The truth. That's all I wanted from the start.”

“The truth about what?”

His eyes pierce through mine. “You and Dezmond.”

My hands fall from my hair, I watch him warily. “No. That's got nothing to do with you.”

“Of course it does!” he snaps, his mood shifting from a simmer to a nuclear explosion. He advances on me, but we're already close, making it impossible to react when he clasps my jaw in his big hands. “How can you not see that, Lorikeet? Everything you're doing with him involves me.”

I'm lost in the black fury of his eyes. There's more here than rage. Another emotion swimming beneath the surface, hiding in the depths of oblivion, rising ever closer to reveal itself to me. “Jordan,” I hush.

“I'm not giving you anything until you givemesomething,” he says.

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