Page 99 of Cost of Courting

He looks like some kind of fae from a romance novel.

Bailey trails his lips down my cheek.

“We should take a trip. Go and enjoy ourselves somewhere, just for a day or so. I just want you for ourselves. Just for a little bit,” he murmurs against my lips.

I moan as he hikes up my leg and tilts my hips so that I’m pressed against the hard length of him. With a discreet move, he grinds his cock into me.

“Bailey, we’re in a park, it’s broad daylight,” I protest, but it’s weak. I am weak for him.

“Then give me what I want quickly.”

I moan. “What do you want?” I ask in frustration and sit up.

“If I can’t have you alone, I want to know you’ve come.”

“But-”

He pulls me against him harder. The seam of my jeans has become an almost painfully erotic torture device. He pushes me back so I’m on my elbows and leans over me, moving his hips in slow and deliberate movements.

“Bailey, you’re not playing fair.”

“Nope. I’m not. What are you going to do about it?”

I throw my head back and laugh. Then grip his shoulders, holding myself up and to his chest, and gyrate against him.

“Fucking hell!” Bailey chokes out. “You’re going to kill me.”

“I’m close,” I gasp into his ear. “I just want to get down on my knees right here and suck your big, huge cock into my mouth and have you fuck me until you come down my throat.”

“Yeah? So you’d be all right if I used your throat for my pleasure.”

I groan.

“I could just fuck you here on the table, right where everyone eats. I could take that ass of yours until you scream.”

His huge hand finds my breast and squeezes hard. I cry out, but he continues to rock into me.

“Omega, your slick is leaving a wet patch on me,” Bailey teases.

He grabs the back of my neck and fuses our mouths together before breaking away for air. “If you come for me now, I’ll feed you my cock later.”

The thought of later, the promise of a future, the anticipation of hearing him groan and whine and beg me, sends me spiralling towards the edge. His continual thrusts press the seam of jeans harder against my clit.

I throw my head back, collapsing against the table, arching my back.

“You look like my most perfect little slut. My slut.”

His hand slips between us and finds the seam of my jeans, and he presses, stroking in quick movements.

“Bailey!”

“Give. Me. What. I. Want!”

He grabs my shoulder and drags me up, his hand still sending those painful and pleasurable strokes straight against my clit.

“Come, Selene-”

His phone rings, and he looks at it. He looks back at me and smiles, putting it on speaker.

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