Page 99 of Bridesmaid for Hire
More of him.
More of this.
More of everything when it comes to his touches.
“Right now,” he whispers, his mouth finding my ear as his thumb swipes again, “it seems like…” His thumb inches up, getting closer to my nipple as he swipes again. “It seems like you don’t hate me.”
I wet my lips as my chest rises and falls, begging and pleading for him to move up one more inch. “I’ll hate you if you tease me,” I say, not even caring at this point. I know what I want and it’s an orgasm. If he works me up and doesn’t deliver, I’ll never be able to forgive him.
“Why would I tease you?” he asks as his thumb rubs over my nipple.
“Oh God,” I say, turning so I’m lying flat on my back and spreading my legs wider to give him better access. He props himself up on his elbow as he stares down at me.
“What do you want?” he asks, looking me dead in the eyes.
“To come.”
I don’t have to think about it.
It’s on the tip of my tongue.
His teeth roll over the corner of his mouth. “I shouldn’t,” he says as his hand drags away from my breast and down my stomach. “But fuck me, Maggie”—his eyes connect with mine—“I can’t stop.”
Words I would have loved to hear a few years ago.
And now that I’m hearing them, they have the same effect they would have had at Gary’s wedding. I light up with anticipation, hope. Because despite our differences, our years of dislike and disagreements, physically, it has been a very different story. He. Does. It. For. Me. I’ve known that since I was nineteen. Since the first moment Gary brought him home and I got a look at that chin dimple of his. I was enamored, unaware that men in real life could be this attractive, this funny, thiskind.Probably why his rejection hurt me so much at Gary’s wedding.But now?God, please…
His fingertips lightly scrape across my skin, all the way to my hip bone. Such torturous teasing that I break out into a tingly, needy sweat.
I lift my hips, trying to inch him closer, trying to get him exactly where I want him. “You wet?” he asks.
“So wet,” I say. I roll my hips, desperate for his touch.
He keeps dragging his fingers over my stomach, around my belly button, making me wetter and wetter with no attempt to ease the tension he’s building inside of me.
“Brody,” I say, my voice just a whisper.
“What?” he asks as he seductively slips his hand up my stomach, just below my breasts. I bite down on my lip and slide my hand between my legs to ease the pressure, but he stops me right before I can touch myself. “Not yet.”
“But—”
“I’m in control, Maggie.” His voice is dark, dangerous, and a part of me thinks I shouldn’t be so turned on by it, but I am. “And you will not get yourself off, not with me in this bed.”
When he stares down at me, it’s clear how serious he is, so I nod.
He gently smirks as his hand comes up to my throat. He gently pushes against it as he rubs his thumb along the column. “Good girl.”
Oh God…what did I get myself into?
He leans down so his lips are up against my ear and he takes my hand, bringing it up to my breast. “Do you know what I want you to do, Maggie?”
“Come?” I ask, because, God, am I ready.
“No,” he whispers, his voice sending chills all along my skin. “You won’t be coming for a while.”
I squeeze my eyes shut realizing that Brody isn’t like any other man that I’ve ever been with. He isn’t about instant gratification—he’s going to make me work for this.
“I want you to play with your nipple. I want to watch you make it hard. I want to see you turn yourself on so much that you nearly come just from your own touch.”
