Page 115 of For the Plot
I fall onto the bed and reach for my vibrator like it’s a lifeline. Because my body isaching. Every nerve on fire. My clit so sensitive it pulses when the air hits it.
I turn the toy on, low setting first, just to start. But the moment I drag it over myself, I moan. Loud. Desperate.
My back arches off the bed and my thighs shake. I picture his mouth. His hands. The heat in his eyes as he told me I wasn’t allowed to have him—not yet. That I hadn’t chosen him. I think about what would’ve happened if I had.
I imagine him pressing me against the bookshelf, pulling my panties to the side, sliding two fingers into me while whispering how tight I still am. How he’s going to fuck me right there, with the dust and the scent of old pages all around us. How he’d make me come and then make me beg to come again.
The toy buzzes faster. I roll my hips into it, gasping now. It’s not enough. I push harder. Faster. My thighs tremble. My breath catches. The orgasm crashes into me, sharp and shallow, more frustration than release.
I lie there for a second, panting, raw, unsatisfied. Because it’s not him. It’s never going to be enough until it’s him. The toy falls out of my hand, dropping beside my now useless, soaked panties. I stare at both.
And then… I do something stupid. Or maybe brilliant.
I grab my phone. I snap a picture. The pink vibrator. The pink lace panties with the obviously soaked crotch. My sheets rumpled and the very obvious evidence that I’ve been desperately trying to fuck the need out of my system.
I hesitate. Just for a second. Then I hit send.
Me:This is what you did to me. I still came. But it wasn’t nearly enough.
Then I toss the phone beside me, still breathless, still aching. And wait.
Chapter 28
Reece
Ihaven’t driven in months. That’s Michael’s job. I pay him well to make sure I can work uninterrupted. But tonight, I drive. Because this isn’t a meeting. It’s not business. It’s her.
I knock on her door exactly one minute before seven. The door creaks open. And she stands there in a dark-green satin slip dress that makes me lose my goddamn breath.
Her hair is down. Her heels are high. Her expression is hesitant but soft.
“You drove?” she asks, eyes flicking to the curb.
I nod. “Told you. I’m doing this the right way.”
She studies me for a beat, then opens the door wider.
I step in. The air shifts between us immediately. Warm. Electric.
She smells like pure temptation, making my mouth water. Her skin is glowing. Her lips a soft pink I want to taste until she’s breathless.
But I don’t touch her. Not yet. I offer my arm.
“May I walk you to the car, Miss Rhodes?”
She raises a brow, lips twitching. “Formal tonight, are we?”
I lean in, voice low. “Only because if I don’t play it careful, I’ll end up dragging you back inside and fucking you againstthe wall.” Her eyes flare, but she takes my arm. “Apologies. I’m trying to remain a gentleman, but you still get me so fucking worked up it’s like an animal trying to escape.”
I open the passenger door and help her in. Gentleman on the surface. But inside? I’m wrecked. Because she smells too good. Looks too good. And I haven’t kissed her in weeks.
I walk around, slide into the driver’s seat, and steal a glance. She's folded her hands in her lap, trying not to fidget.
“Nice car,” she says, eyes darting around.
“Thanks. Got it last fall. Haven’t driven it much. Felt like the occasion deserved it.”
“What occasion?”
