Page 46 of Mr. Wrong
The only thing a guy like me is good for is teaching therightguy a lesson in humility.
It would serve me right for the way I’ve treated her but fuck me if I’m not ready to kill something at the thought of it.
Either way, I’m pretty sure that when my brother instructed me to behelpful and accommodating, this isn’t what he meant.
Before I can stop or even ask myself what the fuck I think I’m doing, I’m tossing her phone back onto the nightstand and stalking my way across the bedroom. Pushing my way into the bathroom, I just stand in the open doorway and stare at the huge, walk-in shower like I’ve never seen a naked woman before.
Because I’m obviously some kind of pervert, I watch while she washes her long, dark hair, head tipped back under the waterfall shower feature, raining down on her from the center of the ceiling. Let my gaze follow the rivulets of water that run down her back to trace the curve of her heart-shaped ass. Under her plump little cheeks to cling to the inside of her thighs.
Jesus Christ.
“You quit.” My voice is full of gravel, so low and uneven, it gets lost under the steady drum of the shower she’s taking. Clearing it, I try again. “You quit.”
This time she hears me, giving me one of her adorable little yelps, as she turns her head toward the sound of my voice while she swipes at the river of shampoo suds running into her eyes. “Lex?” Face finally clear enough to risk a look, she cracks an eyelid to aim a dark brown eye in my direction. When she confirms her suspicions that I’m perving out on her in the shower, that lone brown eye widens slightly. “What are you doing in here?”
Debating the finer points of jerking off while I watch you wash your hair.
Instead of saying it out loud or doing what any half-sane person would do, which is mumble some half-assed excuse for why I’m in the bathroom while it’s obviously occupied, I reach up to snag the collar of my T-shirt. Dragging it up and over my head, I toss it in the direction of the hamper before dropping my hands to the waistband of my jeans. Flicking the top button from its loop, the movement draws her attention to the fact that I’m hard as stone.
And then I stop. Wait. Give her the chance to tell me no. Ask me what the hell I think I’m doing. Start screaming at me to get the hell out.
When she doesn’t do any of those things, I finish the job, jerking my pants and boxer briefs to my feet before stepping out of them. “It’s quiz time, Ellenore,” I tell her, my tone low and tight as I stalk my way toward her. Walking into the shower, I make myself stop again. Watch while she shifts and maneuvers herself until she’s on the other side of the showerhead and pressed against the far side of the shower.
“Are you going to spank me again if I answer wrong?” she asks, her features distorted by the torrent of water between us. The hope I hear in her voice is damn near enough to snap the last, tenuous thread of my self-control.
“I’ve never spanked you, Ellenore.” Closing the distance she’s put between us, I step through the water to press a hand against the cold tiles above her head and lean into her. “I smacked your ass for sassing me.” Lifting my free hand, I cup her full, wet breast and use the pad of my thumb to tease its nipple. “Trust me when I tell you there’s a difference.”
“It didn’t feel different,” she murmurs it, her hot, dark gaze trained on my mouth. Watching it shift into a smirk, herexpression darkens into a frown and she lifts her gaze to find mine. “Are you laughing at me?”
“No...” I let my hand slip away from her breast. Down her ribcage to follow the curve of her hip and over her ass to give it a gentle squeeze. “But, when I spank you, you’ll definitely feel the difference.”
“When?” She tilts her head back to look at me and runs a nervous tongue over her bottom lip. “What does that mean?Whenas in—”
“Shhh...” I whisper it against her mouth before catching that lush bottom lip of hers between my teeth, biting it hard enough to make her gasp. “No talking out of turn during the test,” I tell her before running the tip of my tongue over the lip I just abused, licking and nipping my way across her slightly parted mouth, grazing my teeth along her jawline on my way to her ear. “Who makes you come, Ellenore?” Just in case she needs a reminder, I slide my hand over her hip again, this time pushing it between us to tease the stretch of skin below her bellybutton with the rough pad of my thumb.
“You…” She gasps again when I deliver a punishing nip to her earlobe with my teeth. “You make me come,” she says, remembering the rules of our dirty little game. “You do—you make me come,” she whimpers, opening her legs in eager invitation while her arms come up to wrap around my neck in an effort to keep herself upright. “Please, Lex…”
“Me…” I growl in her ear. Forehead pressed into the crook of her shoulder, I press my lips against the side of her neck, the thrum of her pulse tingling against my mouth. “I do, Ellenore,” I tell her, skimming the slight, soft curve of her stomach with my fingertips before pushing them lower to trace the hot, swollen seam of her pussy. “I’m the one who makes you come.”
“Yes...” She turns her head and moans it softly in my ear, her hands and fingers gripping at my shoulders and neck when Ireward us both by pushing past her entrance to fuck my fingers into her, deep and slow. “Ohmygod,” she moans again when I find her clit, slicking my thumb over that tight, throbbing bundle of nerves, again and again until she starts to shake. One of her hands slips higher on my neck to grip the back of my hair, pulling it so hard I can feel it loosening from its roots. “Lex…”
Lifting my head against her grip, I straighten myself so I can look down at her. Watch her face while I fuck her with my fingers. “Open your eyes, Ellenore,” I murmur, dipping my head to kiss her slightly parted mouth. “Look at me.”
Her eyes open slowly, lids struggling against the thick, warm weight of the orgasm I’m building inside her. “Who makes me hard?” Flexing my hips, I hiss out a curse when the head of my throbbing cock brushes against the inside of her soft thigh. “Who makes me so goddamned hard I can’t—”
The hand in my hair falls off the back of my head before I can even finish the question, slipping down the back of my neck, its fingers sliding between my pecs to trace my trembling abs. “I do,” she says, wrapping her fingers around the base of my shaft. Still looking up at me, she moves her hand, pumping my rock-hard cock in her fist before sweeping her thumb over the head of it. “I make you hard, Lex.” The words tumble out of her mouth in a breathless rush, seconds before I feel her thighs start to shake while the walls of her pussy start to milk the length of my fingers. “I’m coming,” she moans softly, the fingers of her free hand digging into my shoulder. “Lex, I’m…”
“Jesus Christ...” The hand I have pressed against the wall slips into her hair to grip the back of her neck, tilting her mouth up to meet mine while my fingers keep moving inside her, keep fucking her, even as I’m flexing and thrusting my hips into the tight pump of her hand until I’m coming with her, my cock jerking and spasming against her grip.
“Are you still mad at me?”
We’ve been like this for a while. My fingers still buried inside her. Her hand still wrapped around my dick.
I don’t want to answer her. I want to turn her around and push her against the tile. Fuck her with my bare cock from behind. I want to pick her up and carry her into the bedroom. Crawl between her legs and pin her to the bed with my tongue.
Because the answer is yes.
Yes, I am.
