Page 59 of Hard
‘I left the door open. Unless you want an audience... ’
‘My eyes flick to the door, which is barely ajar, but the threat of discovery is there. And the threat of discovery seems to heighten things. Exponentially.
Who is this girl I’ve become?
I push up into my hand, sliding two fingers along my wetness, whimpering as I bring them back to my clit again.
And he watches. Watches my fingers. Watches my face. Bites his lip as though he’s dying for a taste.
‘You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous,’ his voice rumbles. ‘I have never wanted you more than I do right now.’
I cry out softly, his words unravelling me, his gaze intoxicating me more than any liquor or drug could. I’ve never done this—never gotten myself off for someone else’s enjoyment. And it’s a powerful feeling to know that your touches are turning someone on.Someone other than you.
I begin petting and moving two fingers in a well-practised rhythm of small circles against my clit. But I want more. How can I not when he’s standing in front of me, his eyes dark, his muscled arms flexing under the soft cotton of his Henley as his fists clench and unclench as though he’s dying to touch me himself.
I arch against the bedpost, pushing harder into my hand, wanting more pressure, more everything.
‘Show me. Show me how wet you are for me.’ His daring demands have me arching my back against hand.
‘Touch me,’ I beg. ‘Fuck me. I want to feel you.’
‘Show me what’s mine,’ he demands. ‘Show me what’s mine, and I’ll make it so good.’
I pull my fingers from my panties to hook my thumbs into the sides, shimmying them part way down my thighs. The material of my skirt bunched around my waist, I scissor the wetness between my two fingers.
‘Fuck me, you’re dripping.’ Keir’s eyes dart from my glistening fingers to my exposed pussy.
In a heartbeat, he grasps my wrist, his eyes falling closed as he sucks my fingers into his mouth. If I wasn’t turned on before, you can bet I am now. His tongue works those two digits like his tongue is a stripper and my fingers the pole. And the noises he makes? It’s like I’m pure gourmet.
Outside in the corridor, a door slams, and I jump, trying to take back my hand. To no avail as, with one last flick, he pulls my fingers free and jams them between my legs. I cry out long and loud.
‘You’re gonna make yourself come,’ he growls, ‘and I’m gonna help.’
I don’t register much else as he slides my fingers back to my clit, replacing them with his own. He works me roughly—deeply—his fingers spearing sharply before curling inside.
‘You can do better than that.’
My legs turn to liquid as I begin to apply pressure to the tight bundle of nerves as his fingers thrust and scissor, curl and torment. And all the while, he’s whispering the sweetest of filth.
Of how he knows what I need.
How he’ll fill me.
Stick his fingers inside me.
His cock.
How when he’s done with me, I won’t know my own name.
‘Jesus Christ, I need to fuck you.’
‘Yes!’
‘You’re gonna come all over my fingers, then you’re gonna lick them clean.’ I nod again. ‘Then you’re gonna come home with me and sit on my face.’
‘Yes!’
‘That’s no’ very polite.’
