Page 59 of Watch Me Burn
There’s something so free about her like this, uninhibited in a way that makes her breathtaking.
“It looks like you and Maren had quite the party.”
“Yup.”
She brings the glass to her mouth with the careful movements of someone trying not to appear drunk, tips it back with hope, then lets out a soft sound of disappointment. Her lips curve into a frown when nothing emerges, her bottom lip pushing out in a pout that makes me chuckle.
“What were you celebrating?” I ask, though I already know. Even if I hadn’t been watching earlier, I’d know they were celebrating my donation for that little troublemaker raccoon of hers.
But seeing her so happy like this, so free from worry over one of her animals, I’d donate ten of them.
She drifts toward the sofa that stands between us, her hips swaying with each unsteady step while she grips the back cushions for balance.
“I want to tell you, but you probably know ’cause you’re a creepy stalker. And…” She wags a finger at me. “You’ll only act like a jealous prick because Damien donated it.”
She’s higher than she was on the Oxy after her bear attack.
The couches angle toward each other in an L, leaving just enough space between them for me to wrap my fingers around her wrist and pull her through the gap.
“A prick, huh?” My lips curve into a smirk. I take the wineglass from her unsteady fingers and set it on the coffee table.
“Yes. You always act like a jealous prick, but you don’t—” Her foot catches nothing but air, and my hands find her waist before she can fall. “You don’t own me.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Luna.” My voice drops to a growl, rough and dangerous. “And I think I have a right to be a jealous prick because you let Damien Wolfe put his mouth onmypussy.“ My hand slides beneath her sleep shirt, my fingertips grazing over the lace of her panties before I cup her through the delicate fabric.
Air rushes from her lungs. “I told you I was sorry.”
“No, actually, you didn’t.” My thumb finds her clit, pressing until she arches into the contact like a flower bending toward sunlight.
“I didn’t?” Her shoulders lift in a careless gesture, though her thighs tremble around my hand. “I wasn’t sorry while he was doing it. Only after.”
“I don’t want to talk about Damien Wolfe’s mouth on you, Luna.”
She tilts her head, studying me with those eyes that see too much, even with the wine clouding her vision.
“What do you want?”
My finger slips past lace and into slick warmth. Her hips jerk, a moan rising from deep in her chest as I stroke through her arousal.
“I want this pussy wrapped around my cock for the rest of the night.”
A shuddering, breathless “Yes” escapes her lips. She arches into my hand, seeking more friction as her eyes slip closed.
“Where’s Maren?”
Her friend’s presence won’t change my plans. I’ve learned to improvise when she stays over.
“Sleeping.” Luna whimpers, her hips rolling in rhythm with my finger as I move it inside her. “I… I couldn’t sleep, so… so I came down to wait for you.”
“Can you keep quiet? Or do I need to fuck you down here?”
“Down here.” She gasps between shallow breaths. “But the wicker… It’ll dig into me if you bend me over it.”
“We’re going to try something different tonight. Would you like that?”
Her eyes whip open, and her hips come to an abrupt stop. “What?”
I withdraw my finger and gather the hem of her nightshirt, lifting it over her head. She pushes her panties down her legs without hesitation, the fabric pooling at her feet, leaving her standing bare in front of me.
