Page 37 of Off Limits

He ends the kiss to watch me as he undoes my pants. My breath speeds up even more, my heart pounding in my chest as he stares down into my eyes while his fingers deftly yank and pull and tug my pants down enough that he has room to work.

He’s a tease, though, which I suppose is no great surprise considering how he started things off tonight with that sweet little kiss outside the restaurant and then the nips and kisses here in the truck. He continues watching me as he trails his fingers over the bare expanse of skin between my undone pants and my hiked up shirt. Then his eyes dip to where his hand flattens on my belly and teases beneath the open front of my jeans. Unfortunately, the thin layer of my underwear still separates his skin from mine.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says as his fingers find their way farther in, following the contours of my body, almost featherlight touches.

I hate it and I love it at the same time. But I want more. More pressure, more friction, justmore.

His lips quirk in a half-smile when I press against his hand. But he doesn’t deny me what I’m seeking, increasing the pressure and kneading my pussy the same way he did my ass a minute ago. It’s a start on the more that I’m needing, but definitely not the endgame.

He teases the crease of my thigh with his fingers, and my breath hitches, coming out in a rush when he retreats back up to my belly. But this time, oh this time, he slips under the thin elastic band of my panties and slides back down, his fingers grazing over my skin at long last.

He traces my seam, slowly back and forth a few times, and I open my legs as wide as I can, wanting him to give me more.

And he does. Oh, how he does.

He leans down, his lips finding mine as his finger dips inside my opening, swirls around, and then circles up and around my clit. He does this circuit over and over—dip, swirl, circle—each pass a little deeper, a little tighter, a little more, until he sinks his finger in as far as he can, the heel of his palm grinding into my clit as he finds my G-spot.

“Oh.” The soft sound escapes my lips as I arch up into him. No one’s managed to do that before—find my G-spot and give me good clit stimulation at the same time. “Oh god.”

He gives me a brief smile of satisfaction. “You like that? That feels good?”

“Unghhh,” is the only response I’m capable of giving, which prompts a low, sexy chuckle.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He continues, and I clutch at anything my hands can reach, the seat, his arm, his shirt. “I’m gonna add another finger,” he whispers, and I nod, because one finger feels great, but the delicious stretch that’ll surely come with two sounds perfect.

He withdraws, and it’s enough to make me whimper, but when he presses two fingers into me, I gasp and sigh and make a weird sound that should be embarrassing, except he so obviously loves it that I can’t find it in me to be self-conscious at all.

“Yeah, baby,” he encourages, “that’s right. Let me make you feel good.”

“You make me feel so good,” I tell him. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck.”

He groans and shifts. “God, I wish I could fuck you right now for real.”

An answering groan from me. “God, me too. Next time. For sure next time.”

He gives me a sexy smile. “Next time.”

And then there are no more words—or at least not any coherent ones—because he’s finger fucking me in earnest, his face a picture of concentration, and he brings all the thoroughness of his kissing to this as well. And holy fuck, it’s so damn hot, and even though I know he’s drawing this out as much as he can, it’s over almost too soon. The look on his face, the way his hand feels between my legs, how turned on I was already—they all combine to make me too impatient to drag this out. I’m making unholy sounds, encouraging him, begging for more, and he obliges until I’m a shuddering, gasping mess as my first Simon-induced orgasm rips through me.

When he withdraws his hand, it provokes another gasp and one last round of aftershocks, and he has the cockiest—and well-deserved—grin on his face. On someone else that might be a turn off, but on Simon, it’s fitting.

I sit up and pull his face to mine, kissing him deeply, as I let my hand slide down his torso.

But he catches it and stops me before I get below his waist, my intention obvious. He shakes his head and ends the kiss. “I don’t have anything to clean up with here.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Next time,” he says, and kisses me again.

Next time. Just thinking about a next time makes me giddy.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Simon

I drive Ellie back to the dorm, unable to wipe the grin off my face. She opts to sit in the middle seat, pressed against my side. And if this is what being with Ellie is like, I can’t wait until the next time.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” I ask as I pull up in front of the entrance.

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