Page 61 of Troublemaker: The Big Picture Edition

She’s backed up against the wall, between the two rows of heavy stage curtains.

“Wouldn’t you agree, Miss Stiles?”

She nods.

She shivers.

I press one hand against the wall, above her shoulder, and drag my fingertip along the exposed skin just above the scooped neckline of her T-shirt.

She shivers even more.

“Is it okay for me to touch you like this now?” I whisper into her ear.

She nods.

The skin of her neck is fragrant and smooth and radiating warmth, and I cannot resist it. I press my lips against her neck, behind her ear, and then lower, and lower, and then back up to her cheek. “Is it okay for me to kiss you like this?”

“Oh shit,” she whispers. “Yes.”

She grabs my face and kisses my mouth hungrily, and as soon as her warm tongue touches mine, I unfasten both clasps of her overalls and the heavy denim drops to the floor around her ankles. I don’t think she even notices that her gorgeous bare legs and those same damn panties she was wearing at the observatory have been uncovered, because she’s so busy kissing me. Or maybe she does notice, but she doesn’t stop kissing me as she takes one of my hands and slides it up her flat belly, pressing and holding it against her breast.

Fucking hell, Miss Stiles.

“Is it okay for you to touch me like this?” she asks, her voice all breathy, but I can still hear the sarcasm.

I squeeze her ass with my other hand and caress her tenderly, just beneath her breast, along the side of it, kissing along her jaw, her cheek, and only when I can tell she’s dying for it, I graze my thumb across her hard nipple.

She starts doing something amazing to my earlobe with her tongue. and I let out a groan.

“Youaretrouble, aren’t you, Miss Stiles?”

“Nuh-uh,” she says as I feel her hand on my crotch. “Better hurry up before I come to my senses and realize I’m not this kind of girl.” She captures my earlobe between her teeth, tugging on it.

Jesus.

I move her hand away because I am not going to pick up my kid at my parents’ house smelling like I just came in my pants.

I reach into her panties, and Jiminy Christmas, I don’t know what’s hotter—the way she moans and bites her lip or the warm, wet slice of heaven between her legs. She arches her back and clenches around my fingers immediately. “Whatever you are, you’re my kind of girl,” I grunt. “You know how wet you are for me?”

“Yes. Always.” She bears down against my hand, squeezing her thighs together, rocking back and forth.

“You’re always this wet for me?”

“Yes, Mr. Vega.” She grabs on to my biceps, squeezing hard.

“Do you even know how fucking hot you are?”

“Only for you, M-Mister…” She can’t even finish that sentence, she’s so close to coming.

Christ.

I turn her around to face the wall so I can massage her clit with my hand, harder and faster, from a better angle. She pushes against the wall until her arms are straight, and I wrap my arm tight around her waist. Her head falls back, and forward, side to side as she presses her ass against the hard bulge of my jeans. She’s breathing so hard and undulating and whimpering, and that’s when I massage her swollen breast and my fingers slip inside her again and I use the palm of my hand to stimulate her while I fuck her with my fingers.

She cries out in surprise and pleasure.

Her sweet voice echoes around the empty auditorium.

She catches her breath, and I can tell she’s self-conscious now.