Page 67 of Awaiting the Storm
“Oh my God,” I moan as his fingers flutter over my sensitive flesh.
He knows just how to touch me. Lightly at first, then a little more pressure. Playing. Exploring.
I arch my back, biting down on my lip to hold back a cry. “Case, please,” I whimper. Not knowing what exactly I’m asking for.
“Give me your eyes,” he demands, and I snap my gaze to his.
I can feel the steely length of him as I writhe against his fingers.
“Come on my hand, cowgirl,” he demands.
I start shaking my head.
“Yes, want to feel you let go,” he says.
Finally, I can’t fight it, and my entire body starts to spasm as pure, white-hot pleasure erupts in my core and radiates to all my limbs. The force of it ceases my breath. I slump against his chest and gasp for air as I ride it out.
Case’s hands come to the small of my back, and he holds me steady until my muscles stop quaking.
“Now, that was some good-night kiss,” he whispers in my ear.
I bring my head up and lock my eyes to his. He kisses me. A quick, hard peck of his lips. And I can’t help but laugh.
His hands come to my face, and he brushes my hair behind my ears. “That was fucking incredible.”
“You didn’t even—”
I don’t get the rest of the sentence out because he cuts me off, “Don’t care.”
I shake my head, but he clasps my chin.
“We have to save something for our next date.”
I climb off his lap, and he groans as my knee grazes his zipper.
“Sorry,” I murmur as he adjusts himself.
“Nothing a cold shower won’t fix.”
I look up at the dark house as I zip my jeans. Hoping beyond hope that no one can see into the cab through the fog-covered windows. Because if Charli Storm heard us drive up, she’d definitely be nosy enough to try.
“I think everyone is asleep,” Caison says, reading my thoughts.
“Hopefully, but I’d better get in there,” I say, bending to kiss him one last time before reaching for the door handle and hopping out into the freezing night. I wave as I sprint to the porch.
He rolls down the window and calls, “Sweet dreams, Matty,” as I let myself inside.
Oh, I’m sure they will be.
“Tell me everything.” Harleigh’s voice comes over the speaker as Charli holds her phone aloft.
I don’t respond as I toss the saddle blanket onto Luna’s back.
“She’s being tight-lipped, but she’s had this satisfied little smile on her face all morning, and Caison’s truck idled in the driveway for forty minutes when he dropped her off last night,” Charli says, and I narrow my eyes at her. “Don’t worry, Sissy. I didn’t peek.”
Harleigh bursts out laughing. “Liar!”
“It was too dark,” Charli admits.
