Page 71 of Mixed Signals
It feels amazing. A delicious tease—just like I wanted. Warmth collects low in my belly and every place my body is pressed to his. Knees, thighs—head and heart.
“Words, Layla.” He adjusts his hand between my legs so I’m pressing directly into his thumb with each roll of my hips. My whole body shudders.
“It feels good,” I tell him, my words slurred. It’s the best it’s ever felt with anyone ever and he hasn’t bothered to remove any of my clothes. He hasn’t touched the bare skin underneath them. One of his knuckles nudges the edge of my underwear and an erratic sound catches in the back of my throat.
“Do you like it when I talk to you?” His teeth clamp down on the edge of my bodice and he tugs the material an inch lower. The strain of my nipples against the soft fabric distracts him. He tongues at one through the flimsy material of my barely-hanging-on top until I’m arching in his lap.
“I like it when you talk,” I manage between heaving breaths. I can’t stop watching him. His tan arm flexing between my legs and his mouth at the tips of my breasts. He catches one between his teeth and heat licks up my spine. I’ve never—it’s never felt like this. Not even when I’m by myself. I let out a shuddering exhale. “I like it when you—”
I break off, my thoughts scattered. He drops his forehead against my chest and grinds his hips up into mine, his hand trapped between us.
“What do you like?”
Heat blazes in my cheeks. I’ve never told anyone this, either. “I like it when you tell me what you like, too.”
I like the praise, I think. I’d like to hear all of the good things I’m making him feel.
He groans, a helpless sound. He turns his hand so I’m rocking into his palm, the heel of his hand grinding into my clit with every rough jerk of my hips. He presses wet, sucking kisses to my neck.
“You want to know how good you feel?”
“Yes.”
“You want to hear how I’m breaking apart, getting to see you like this?”
I nod, frantic. Yes, that’s exactly what I need. I want to know that Caleb is feeling everything I’m feeling. That he feels just as wildly out of control. The tension inside me twists deeper—a spring coiled low in my belly. I rock my hips harder into his touch.
“You’re doing so good, sweetheart. So good.” The hand above my dress clamps down on my hip and he guides me against him. Everywhere I move, I feel a different decadent sensation. The button of his jeans when my hips jump. The hard press of his cock on the inside of my thigh when I grind down. His mouth on my chest and his messy hair against my neck.
“That’s it,” he encourages and I roll my hips harder. I grip the top of the chair we’re balanced on and chase the feeling, making my legs twitch and shake. I chase that delicious, golden edge—right out of reach. “Just like that, Layla. Ride my hand until you feel good, yeah?”
“Jesus,” I mutter. I think it’s a combination of his steady touch and his low, murmuring words—praise whispered in my ear as I climb higher and higher. He doesn’t waiver as I work myself against him, the rough material of his jeans chafing the inside of my thighs making everything better. I like the burn of it. I like the desperation.
I move and Caleb tells me how perfect I feel, how warm and wet I am through the thin material of my underwear. He tells me how already he can’t wait to do this again, all of my clothes stripped off so he can watch my blush paint my skin pink.
“Just one of your pretty scarves,” he mumbles with his mouth on the hollow of my throat, his pinky edging under the hem of my underwear. “Nothing else.”
“I don’t—” A whine lifts the edge of my voice. I’m so close, but I can’t make myself tip over the edge. The harder I work myself against him, the further away it seems to drift. My pleasure flickers, hazy frustration dulling the sharp corners. I bite back a moan that sounds suspiciously like a sob.
Caleb carefully slows me down with gentle touches. His fingertips at the small of my back. A kiss between my shoulder and neck. “What do you need?” he whispers.
“I don’t know,” I mumble into his neck, scraping my teeth against his ear and forcing my hips harder into his hand.I want to come. I want to come, I want to come, I want to come.“I don’t know what I need.”
Caleb stills me above him and I wiggle in his hold, frantic. Need pulsates right beneath my skin, a frantic buzz deep in my bones. I suck at his neck, fumble with the buttons of his shirt. I’m a mess, tugging and grabbing at him beneath me. Patience is gone. Hesitation, too.
“Caleb, please,” I beg, embarrassed that I’m pleading with him for an orgasm but also unable to stop. I’m soclose. “Please keep going.”
He smooths his hand down my back and cups my ass over my dress. He grabs a handful and lifts, holding me steady against the front of his body as he stands from the chair. I wrap my arms tight around his shoulders.
“I’m gonna keep going.” He walks four steps to the couch and drops us both down onto it, rearranging our bodies until I’m pressed deep into the cushions and he’s above me, my legs high around his waist. I cross my ankles and tug him into me, his cock heavy and hard against the space between my legs. “We’re going to get you there, I promise. I think I figured out the problem.”
“You stopped touching me,” I point out, feeling petulant. Both of his hands circle my wrists, guiding my arms up above my head. I want them under my skirt. I want them on my skin. “That’s the problem.”
“I was making you work too hard,” he says, watching the progress of his broad hands down my arms, over the sides of my ribcage. He hooks two fingers in the top of my dress and tugs until my breasts are bare beneath him. He makes a low, appreciative grunt and brushes lightly over my nipples with the palms of his hands. He teases me just like that, his chest heaving as he holds himself on his knees above me. When I slip my fingers through one of his belt loops and tug, he grabs my wrist and guides it back above my head, pressing me harder into the couch. My whole body shakes with need.
Eyes like burning coals glance up at me. “You’re not supposed to work for it, sweetheart. I am.”
And then Caleb goes to work.
