Page 104 of Wish I Might
She shut her mouth with a snap.“No.And it’s more than a week.”
He shrugged.“Close enough.”
“And you sprung this on me,” she continued, sexual frustration and righteous indignation making her shrill.“Withno warning.Which is justmean.”
“You’re right.”
The deep breath she’d taken so she could keep telling him how horrible he was burst out of her lungs in a woosh.“Huh?”
“You’re right,” he repeated.“It was wrong of me to just spring this on you.”
Suspicion narrowed her eyes.There was a catch somewhere, but she couldn’t see it.“Yes, it was.”
“So instead of starting now, the no-orgasm clock will start in…” He dug his phone out of his pocket and tapped at the screen before setting it down on the table, face up.“Seven minutes.”
It took her a solid five seconds to find her voice.“That’s not enough time!”
“It is if you get busy.”He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed across his chest, and arched one imperious eyebrow.“Come on, Bailey.I know how fast you get off when you masturbate.”
Her cheeks flamed with heat, remembering how he watched her the other night.She had gotten off fast, the orgasm slamming into her so quickly she could barely breathe.But seven minutes?It wasn’t even enough time to go upstairs for a vibrator.
He glanced down at the phone.“Six minutes, thirty-eight seconds.“Come on, Bailey.I dare you.”
She stared at him, torn.Because she didn’t have to do this.It was just a game, an echo of that first night when he’d all but dared her to give him control.He wasn’t actually in charge of her, he couldn’t make her do—or not do—anything.All she had to do was tell him no—or Bananarama—and that was that.
But the game was fun.She wanted to play it.
And she wanted to win.
So she scraped her chair back, prepared to run upstairs and rub one out at speed, when he froze her with one word.
“Here.”
She stared, sure she’d heard him wrong.“What?”
“You have to do it here.”He wore a smug smile, that familiar wicked gleam in his eyes.“Just in case you think about cheating.”
“I would never.”She would always.
He glanced down at the timer on his phone.“Five minutes, fifty-nine seconds.What’s it going to be, Bailey?”
“My God, you’re a dick,” she breathed.
“Sticks and stones,” he said mildly.“Your window is closing.”
“Fine.”Defiant, she shoved to her feet.Her dress came to mid-thigh, and was thin enough that she could do this with it and her panties in the way.But if he was going to watch her, she was going to make it hurt.
Lifting her dress to her waist, she shoved her panties down, wiggling her legs so they shimmied down her thighs.When they hit the floor, she stepped one foot out, and planted the other on the seat of her chair.
His eyes flared wide with surprise, his lips parting as he stared at the shadowed cleft between her thighs.He wouldn’t be able to see much yet—pubic hair for the win—but she’d bet every last dollar in her bank account that he could smell her.
The scent of her arousal rose thick in the air, sweet and ripe, as familiar to her as her own face.Nash sucked in air through his nose, breathing her in, but her triumph was tempered by the almost unbearable arousal of being spread bare in front of him.
The cool air against her pussy made her feel even wetter, pushed her arousal even higher, and she would’ve have liked to spend the next few minutes teasing him.But she was all too aware of the time ticking down, so without ceremony, she shoved a hand between her legs.
The first touch made her jerk, rattling the chair against the floor.Her pussy was so wet, her clit so swollen.She wasn’t close, but she could get there.And with that single thought in mind, she went to work.
Dipping her fingers down to wet them in the slick, sticky mess that dripped from her ripe hole, she slid them back up to her clit.She went soft at first, testing, teasing, then harder, working in tight circles over and around the little bundle of nerves, and watched Nash watch her.
