Page 20 of The List
I’ve never used vocabulary words as a seduction technique before, but it seems to be working. With Cassie, anyway. I caress her hip again, then continue up. My palm dips into the curve of her waist and keeps going, barely grazing the side of her breast. Cassie gives a soft groan.
“Don’t you think there’s a chance words like those might come up in conversation?” Her voice is high and strained as I cup her left breast in my hand. The fabric of her shirt is cool and slippery, but underneath I can feel how warm she is. I stroke my thumb over her nipple, rewarded by another soft gasp.
“Perhaps.” I run my hand down her body, taking my time stroking her waist, her hip, her ass. I find the hem of her skirt and slide up until my fingers make contact with the edge of her panties. Cassie gasps and grips the counter.
“How about undulate?” I suggest. “Rhythmic? Lubricious?”
She moans aloud as I ease a finger under the elastic of her panties. I’m surprised to find her already wet, and I wonder if she was touching herself before I got here or if this happened in the last couple minutes. Either way, she feels fucking amazing. I dip a finger into her, and she moans again. My cock strains at the front of my pants.
“Oh, God,” she groans when I slide my finger inside her, all the way to the second knuckle. Her hips seem to move without her consent, tilting toward me to offer just the right angle.
With the hand that’s not touching her, I lift my wineglass to my lips and chug the last of it. Then I set the glass aside and turn my full attention on her.
“Surely, we can find a good safe word,” I say. “How about plunge? Or maybe erotic.”
Cassie gives a low little moan in the back of her throat. I don’t even know if she’s hearing my words. Her eyes are closed, and she’s rocking against my finger like she’s fucking my hand. The rhythm is slow and sweet, and I’m not certain she realizes she’s doing it.
“Susurrus,” I whisper, leaning close so she can feel my breath on her throat.
She laughs, though it comes out more like a moan. “I don’t even know what that means.”
“Susurrus,” I repeat. “Whispering, murmuring.” I lean closer, letting my lips brush her earlobe as I draw out each syllable.
“Simon—”
“I don’t think Simon is a good safe word,” I whisper. “I plan to make you scream it by the time we’re through.”
She whimpers and grinds herself against my finger. “Please.”
“Definitely not a good safe word.”
She turns and grabs me by the front of the shirt. Her eyes are a little wild, and she’s tight around my finger, her pussy slick and hot. She slides her fingers up my arms, and her eyes are pleading.
“Please,” she whispers again. “I want you. Now. Please.”
Then she presses her lips to mine.
Chapter 6
Cassie
There’s something absurdly sexy about the contrast between the two sides of Simon. There’s the guy who makes goofy jokes about rubber scrapers and plays drums with my kitchen utensils.
Then there’s the alpha-male version who made my whole body scream with need the instant he slapped that spatula against his palm.
I kinda like both.
But right now, it’s the alpha version who’s making my blood sing as he yanks out my low, padded barstool and points to it. “On your knees,” he says, spinning me around to face the counter. He pushes me down with a gentle palm in the small of my back, and I go willingly. I brace myself on the edge of the counter the instant my knees sink onto the cushioned stool.
We’re both still fully clothed, and something about that makes it even hotter than if we were totally naked. He reaches over and hits the dimmer switch for the light over my kitchen bar, transforming the bright glare into something soft and warm. Then he slides his hands up my thighs and pushes my skirt up around my hips. I suck in a breath as his palm skims the satin of my bikini panties. From the corner of my eye, I see his other hand grab the orange spatula off the counter.
“Very nice,” he says, and I’m not sure if he’s talking about my ass, my undies, or my taste in kitchen gadgets. His hand grazing my ass leaves me feeling fiery and eager for him to keep doing this. Goosebumps skate up my arms as he continues caressing me. His touch is feathery and light, and I lean into it, craving more.
“Oh, no you don’t,” he says, pushing me back into position. One of his hands leaves my body, and I hear myself give a small moan of frustration.
Simon laughs. Then I hear the unmistakable sound of his belt being unbuckled. My mouth starts to water, and I try to imagine what he has in mind. When his other hand leaves my ass, I crane my head to look.
He’s standing there in boxer briefs and pulling his shirt off. Tossing it aside, he gives me a stern look and picks up the spatula. “Did I say you could turn around?”
