Page 50 of Stags

“All yours,” she agreed softly.

“So, this is what I want you to do,” he said. “I want you to undo your jeans and slide your hand down the front of them and find your clit and rub it. Right now, Tawny.”

She glanced down, a grin spreading over her face, to find the button of her jeans.

“Up here.”

She looked back up at him.

“Good,” he said. “You look at me, that’s right. Look at me and touch yourself. That’s what you do. And…” He let out a huff of air. “And I want you to acknowledge what I tell you, actually. Say, uh, ‘Yes, sir.’”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” she said, but it was making her tingle, and she couldn’t deny it. “Sir.”

He let out a breathless laugh. “You’re a very bad girl, and you know it. I’m going to teach you a lesson.”

“You’re a jackass, sir,” she said, sliding her hand down her pants, rubbing herself. “You’re the most arrogant buck I’ve ever met in my life. You’re exactly the kind of man I hate.”

“Uh huh,” he said. “Missing something at the end there?”

“Sir,” she moaned, because she was wet, wow, how had she gottenthatwet? And because it felt good to touch herself there.

“Yeah,” he said. “That’s better.” He kissed her again. He pulled back. “Good.”

She shivered again. Fuck, her nipples were tingling. She half-thought maybe they were getting hard without anyone touching them, which—despite what was claimed in the trashy romance novels she’d read—never actually happened. At least. Not to her. She shut her eyes, savoring the way it felt to rub circles into her needy clit.

“No, open your eyes, look at me,” he said.

She obeyed.

“Look at me,” he murmured. “Look right at me. How’s that feel? You like that?”

“Obviously, I like it, sir.”

“Cheeky thing. Just for that, stop.”

“Fuck you, sir,” she groaned. She stopped.

He snatched her hand out of her pants and lifted her fingers to his lips. He licked them clean.

She made a noise in the back of her throat.

“Wet little pussy, isn’t it?” he breathed. “Sweet little pussy, too.”

She held his gaze, her own breath hitching.

“Acknowledge.” He lifted his chin.

“Yes, sir,” she said.

“Show it to me,” he said. “Let me see it.”

She unzipped her jeans. She peeled them away, baring her panties which covered her mound. She’d debated about what underwear to wear for this thing and decided to stick with no-nonsense cotton in defiance.

He ran his tongue over his teeth.

She hooked her thumbs in and pushed her jeans and underwear down at the same time, an inch at a time, showing him everything.

He gazed at her, nostrils flaring, greedily drinking her in. “It wants a kiss?”

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