Page 110 of Easy
‘That sounds like... ’something my brother and I would play on long journeys in the car. Or in other words, not the kind of adult fun I was expecting.
‘Trust me.’ His smirk reappears. ‘It’ll be fun.’
‘If you’re after a glimpse into my psyche, you’ll be disappointed.’
‘Sweetheart, by the end of this evening, I’ll know you inside and out.’ His tone drips with innuendo, but before I have a chance to parry, he lays down the rules. ‘The first word that comes into your head, and hesitation earns you a forfeit.’
‘What kind?’ I ask, frowning back at him.
‘You lose clothing.’
‘Oh.’ My frown eases. ‘Prepare to get naked, then.’
‘Peach.’ There was no hint of challenge in the word; I almost didn’t realise we’d started. I was expecting something smutty—rude or risqué.
‘Fuzz?’ Unsettled, my response sounds like a question. I get the sense he’s enjoying my reaction, laughing at me somehow.
‘Knife.’ Eyes are bright with amusement, and his tone gives nothing away as I think,I don’t recall Christian Grey playing these sorts of games, and almost forget to answer.
‘Oh, er, edge!’
‘Oh, dear.’ This sounds more taunt than a consolation. ‘That’s your first one.’ His gaze touches my mouth then dips to my breasts, his smile growing in depth and deviance, halting the breath in my chest.
‘What? No way!’ I more hot than bothered by his bold attentions. I find myself squeezing my thighs, desire coursing through me like an uncertain thrill.New feelings—powerful, too. ‘Well, barely,’ I add, tucking my calves closer to the chair as I reach for my glass.
‘Don’t mutter. It’s unbecoming.’ His accent seems to clip the words into a command, the admonishment making my stomach twist. I have to force myself to sit still—to not squirm in my seat. But, God, I want to. Far too much.
‘Rules are rules.’ He leans further back in his chair, spreading his arms across the back of it. His gaze dips from my face to my chest again. ‘Take it off.’
Nothing in the history of me has every sounded so darkly tempting.
‘Rulesarerules,’ I agree, albeit a little breathlessly, as my fingers reach to loosen a pearly button on the placket of my blouse. ‘Even if I do think you’re making them up.’ My fingers shake with the weight of his instruction—with the position I’m about to place myself in.
It’s been a while since I’d had a one-night stand. Hell, it’s been a while since I’d had a man between my legs at all. Surely, it wasn’t supposed to be this unravelling. Surely, I wasn’t supposed to feel this pull to him. This isn’t the tequila; I’m lucid enough to know what I’m doing. Sober enough to feel the subtle zing of our chemistry, the electric-like pulse dancing in the air.
This night is confusing—his intentions hard to decipher—but the bulge in his pants suggests it’ll be worth it in the end. So worth it.
His dark eyes watch on as I pop the last button of my blouse. Unfurling my legs, I stand and slide it from my shoulders. It flutters silently to the carpeted floor. Half undressed, I perch myself back on the very edge of the chair, resisting the urge to hide myself by folding my arms across my chest.
And he just... stares. Doesn’t give me a hint to his thoughts, just watches silently. I don’t know what to think, and I don’t know what to feel, though my body seems to speak for me as my nipples pebble under the pale lace and between my legs begins to throb.
‘Come.’ The word is low and raspy, and my response is almost instant.
‘Yes! Please and often.’ As though magnetized, my eyes flick to his crotch. ‘Or I could lend you a hand?’ My mouth waters at the prospect, and that little snippet is new. I don’t usually think of blow jobs like lollipops. ‘You didn’t strike me as a brat.’ His brow furrows. ‘It’s a little late in the evening to start acting like one now.’ His gaze alights briefly on his watch as he slides his arms from the back of the chair, reaching to a side table and his own glass.
‘I thought it was an invitation.’ My words are flippant; I don’t like his cool expression—not one bit. I want to force a reaction and desire, quite viscerally, his hands on me.
‘An invitation to put you over my knee, perhaps.’ Taking a sip of his wine, he hides a slow smile behind his glass. ‘You’re making this too easy. Anyone would think you want to lose.’
‘No one likes to lose.’ As I cross my legs, his gaze follows the motion.
‘You’d be surprised,’ he replies cryptically. ‘I’ll say again,come.’
‘Here?’ I try not to cringe as the word trails off to a question. He’s barely touched me since we entered the house, and the longer we play this silly game, the more desperate I feel. I have the insane desire to push him back against the chair and climb all over him, to take control... But before the thought is fully formed, he speaks again.
‘Good.’
‘Oh, thanks,’ I answer automatically, sliding a lock of hair behind my ear, my head simmering full of half-thoughts. An instant later, I bring my mouth to my hand to swallow my giggle. ‘Oh-oh,’ I sing. ‘I did it again.’
