Page 9 of Personal Foul
“Isn’t that what you asked for out there when you were pleading with me to take my clothes off for you?” She gives me a sassy as fuck look. “Switch”
I run my tongue along the edge of my teeth, grinning as we switch places, and she nearly grazes my body with hers.
“I can tell what a miserable experience this is for you by the way you can’t stop staring,” I taunt her.
She glares at me and slides under the water, turning to get the soap off of her skin and out of her hair. Pretending to be too busy with the task to bother responding to me. She turns her back to me, leaning over to grab something from the corner of the shower and the sight of her sweet little hourglass frame and perfectly thick ass and thighs is too much. I have fucking limits, and she’s pressing on them.
When she stands back up, I lean over her, one arm over each of her shoulders as I brace my hands against the tile.
“Just admit you want me and let me touch you.”
“You wish,” she huffs back at me over her shoulder.
And you know what?Fuck it. It’s true.
“I do wish. I wish for a lot of things. You want me to go first? I’ll tell you. You drive me fucking crazy. The way you run your fucking mouth. The way you treat me like I’m trash that’s beneath you. You push all my fucking buttons. It’s fucking hot as hell. Some nights I have to go home and shower and think about what I’d do to you if you gave me the chance. And I wonder what you’d say if you could see me sliding my hand over my cock while I think about you naked and wet underneath me. What you’d think if you knew how many times I’d come that way wishing it was you there with me. That sometimes when I come like that, I say your name. Just praying that someday you’ll let me touch you, kiss you, worship you until I know exactly how hard you’d come on my cock.”
Her hand slides up the wall, coming within an inch of mine almost as if she might touch me.
“Your turn, Princess, unless you’re too fucking scared.”
FIVE
Wren
My turn.My turn to confess the fact that I think about Easton way more than is healthy or normal. Something that no matter how things go from here on out it’s going to be compounded by whatever this is we’re doing. Because now I’ve seen him. All of him and that isn’t something I’ll forget. I don’t think it’s something anyone forgets, and it explains why so many women are desperate for repeat sessions with him. And while it’s occasionally a thing he does, you pretty much have to be a unicorn for him to consider it.
“Princess…” he repeats, his tone impatient.
I turn around to look at him, and it’s a mistake. The look on his face, so fucking serious and intimidating, his body like this with all his muscles fucking taut, the way he makes me feel small under his gaze. It does things for me. It does thingstome. And it all means I should run. But the reminder that this is a limited-time opportunity makes me embrace it.
I let my eyes wander over him while I tell him the things I shouldn’t. The things that will only blow his ego sky high, and we all know it’s too high to begin with. But since he’s wounded tonight and I feel for him because the weight of the game is on his shoulders when it shouldn’t be and now the blame will be too… I’m going to let him have this thing, and then pray that he’s merciful enough to return the favor and forget it tomorrow.
“Sometimes I think about pushing you until you slam me up against a wall and fuck me hard. What you’d say. If you’d tell me how much you wanted me. If you’d be any good in bed at all or if you’d be just another one of those rich fuckboys who doesn’t have to try. If you could even make me come.”
I tear my eyes away from his body to meet his face, and the way he’s looking at me right now could cut glass.
“Let me touch you, Princess, and I’ll give you all of that and more.”
“Touch me then,” I dare him.
I expect to be slammed up against the tile. For him to be rough and unrelenting, punishing me for all the times I’ve been an unrepentant bitch to him. So when his hand goes to the side of my face, gently running his knuckles over my cheek and then threading his fingers through my wet hair, I freeze like a deer in headlights.
He tilts my head back, and stares at me for a second, studying me like he’s trying to puzzle something out. I wish I could read minds in this moment and know what he’s thinking. He narrows the gap between us, bringing his face so close to mine.
“I’m glad you wasted time getting clean, Princess, just so I can get you dirty as fuck.” He smirks and a moment later his lips are on mine.
He kisses me in long slow strokes that are soft, almost careful, and incredibly fucking calculated. The boy has had lots of practice, and that combined with the fact that he has lips that are way too lush to be a football player’s means I’m slowly losing any will I thought I might still have to resist him. Because my body does not care that he’s an asshole or the campus manwhore or that he will do nothing but gloat about this for all eternity. My body just knows he can deliver on promises, and I need it tonight.
So I stop fighting him, and I kiss him back, letting his tongue dip inside and run over mine, letting him kiss me like he wants to convince me how much I want him, until I press for more, answering him with rougher strokes of my own until I nip at his lower lip and he pulls back and raises a brow.
“You in a hurry?”
“Don’t waste your time trying to seduce me. Just fuck me.”
“Don’t try to bait me into rushing. You want a quick lazy fuck; you could have taken some guy home from the bar. You wanted me.”
“Only because you were conveniently located and asking for it.”
