Page 15 of Dark Wishes

“I know.”

“Then why remind me?”

I open my mouth, struggling for a reply. It’s good he can’t see my frustrated face.

His gravelly voice scrapes over my brain. “Or are you reminding yourself?” The mattress sways, his chest brushing my back. My shirt is useless at protecting me from his firm muscles. “Let me show you what flirting looks like.”

The material of my old shirt is stiff and boxy. Under the blanket, it's hiked over my upper thighs. This is where I feel his fingers first; light brushes on top of my blue shorts, following the raised, white piping on the side to where it vanishes under my shirt.

It’s a simple touch—loose circles, lazily moving over the fabric from the bottom edge until he shifts the shirt higher, away from my hips. The blanket creates more gravity, pushing his hand against my skin, trapping it.

No. I’m the one who’s trapped.

I grow restless with new desire.This isn’t okay,I tell myself.I stopped him earlier for a reason.

What was that reason again?

Jamison explores my bare skin like it’s a map. I become a series of long rivers and roads that he travels with his fingertips, never staying for long. Breathing quicker, I draw my knees closer to my belly, struggling to hold still. He’s doing almostnothingand his touch is incredible.

Is it because of last night?Thinking about how close he came to fingering me makes my clit swell; I squeeze my thighs and shiver.

Jamison’s voice is clipped. “I’d note you’ve gone quiet, but you haven’t really. I can hear how hard you’re breathing.”

His observation cranks my arousal up another notch. I’m too proud to admit he’s having an effect, though. “I’m fine. This is nothing.”

He grabs viscerally onto the meat of my thigh. I gasp in shock at his abrupt aggression. “Then you won’t mind me continuing.”

“Not at all,” I say as coldly as I can. Between my tone and the heat in my body, a fucking hurricane should form overhead from the atmospheric pressure.

He loops his left hand into my right, our knuckles interlocking like the gears on a bike chain. It’s a firm grip—intimate in a way I’m not expecting. I twitch, breath catching. The last of the air leaves my lungs when he places my own hand over my shorts. Slowly, insistently, Jamison rubs my fingers—ourfingers—over my pussy.

Oh no, oh fuck...

I swallow loudly, my hips jutting backwards as we spoon. The solid bulge of his cock meets the crevice of my ass. I'm trapped between him no matter where I go. With a confidence he shouldn't be allowed, he rolls his pelvis while he puppets my fingers over my clit through my clothing.

It’s getting impossible to focus on anything but the heat building between my thighs. “This is how you flirt?” I whimper.

“I’m just getting started.”

His breathy reply makes me tremble. No matter how I wriggle, he finds my clit. My shorts, my panties, they don’t stall him. He can’t see—neither can I—but it’s not an issue for him. Jamison targets my body as if he’s studied it for years.

At this rate... I’m going to come!Gritting my teeth, I put my knees together, trying to relieve the pressure inside of me. It’s pointless. The electric tingles are rushing to one point, coalescing, preparing for my orgasm. I can’t do anything about it.

I don’t want to.

At some point I went from trying to avoid this, to welcoming it.

I’m so close... so fucking close... he’s going to do it, he’s...

Jamison pulls my hand away from my body. I groan in frustration, a sound so feral it muffles his amused chuckle. Notenough that I don’t hear it, though. I’m shaking and sweating—he tugs my arm, rolling me onto my back.

“What are you doing?” I ask, exasperated.

He squeezes my fingers. “I showed you what I wanted to, now I’m going to sleep.”

“You’re—what?” I fumble on the words. The haze in my brain, my overwhelming lust, have made me slow to react. I can’t make sense of why he stopped touching me, or why he’s holding my hand between us.

“Sleeping,” he says calmly.

---