Page 6 of Unleashed

And I can’t stop myself from rubbing it in.

Literally.

“Sorry to break the news to you, sweetheart…” I shift in her grip just enough to glide one finger along her soaked slit. “But I’m pretty sure the Sahara never floods.” Instead of pulling my hand away like I know I should, I sink one finger into her body, groaning. “Fuck you’re wet for me.” I breathe in her scent, desperate for just a little more of what I deny myself. “Tell me to stop touching you.”

Please. For the love of God. Stop this before things go too far.

But, like always, Maren does the exact opposite of what I’ve asked of her. Instead of slapping me or shoving me away like she should, she drops the bunched fabric of her skirt to grip the open edge of my button-up as she grinds against my palm. “You started this. You better finish it.”

I fucking love how demanding she is. That she chooses anger over every other emotional option available. I even love that she hates me. It always felt safe. Like my thoughts about her didn’t matter because making them a reality was never an option. But the way Maren moans when I shift my hand to put more pressure on her clit is very fucking real.

I’m torn between relief and frustration when she finally comes to her senses, planting both hands in the center of my chest to give me a hard shove. We stand there, staring at each other, chests heaving. I bring my thumb to the finger I just had inside her, sliding the digits against each other, savoring the feel of her slick on my skin.

I could make her feel good. I know it.

I could also make her feel the worst she’s ever felt, and that’s why I need to let her leave. Why I need to stay away from her and make sure she continues hating me.

Maren straightens away from the door, shoulders squared as she prepares to tell me what I desperately need to hear. That she hates me. That I’m an asshole. To stay away from her.

But Maren says none of those things. Instead, she says something that will likely lead to my complete and total downfall.

She takes a step toward me, hunger in her gaze as four devastating words slide between her perfect lips. “Get your dick out.”

2

Maren

This is not at all how I expected to be ending my dry spell. Wearing a bridesmaid dress and no panties, in my best friend’s bathroom.

With the man I hate.

Trevor Bradshaw is the last guy in the world I should fuck. He’s arrogant. Short tempered. Demanding. Impatient and unwilling to compromise.

Unfortunately, he’s also very attractive, and seems relatively proficient in navigating the female anatomy. So, still better than most of the men I’ve screwed.

There’s no accounting for taste.

But maybe the universe is trying to save my stupid ass. Because after making what I want abundantly clear, Trevor simply stares at me. Barely blinking his eyes. And that really pisses me off. Considering the way he’s acted over the last year, he should feel fucking blessed that I’m willing to ride his dick. Should be on his knees thanking me with the mouth he never stops running.

“You know what? Never mind.” I fling the hem of my dress toward the floor. “You probably couldn’t get me off anyway.”

I spin away, opening the door so I can get the fuck out of here. I’ll come collect my hair tools another time. Zara will just have to deal with French braids until I get my curling irons back.

But I only manage to get the door open a few inches before it slams shut again, one of Trevor’s hands spread across the surface as his front blankets my back. His other palm flattens against my belly, pinning me to the hard plane of his chest. “Is that a challenge?”

“It’s obviously a challenge, dick.” Is he dense?

I already know the answer to that. Trevor is brilliant when it comes to business matters, but as far as interpersonal relationships go, the man might as well be a rock.

Based on the feel of the abs against my spine, he might actually be a rock. It’s not like I don’t know he works out. His bespoke suits fit entirely too well, and I’ve seen him in his swim trunks on a few occasions at this point. But seeing and feeling are two very different things. And it feels like Trevor is solid as stone. Every inch of him.

Including the ones prodding at my left ass cheek.

“Everything is with you, isn’t it.” His voice is a low growl against my ear. “It would kill you to be nice to me, wouldn’t it?”

“I think offering you the opportunity to fuck me is pretty nice.” I turn my head, meeting my eyes to his. “I’ve been told I’m pretty good at it.”

Not for a while, though, which is likely why I’m breathless and two steps away from hiking my skirt back up and taking care of this myself. It turns out having a kid around all the time is a giant cock block. It’s also time consuming, financially draining… And the best thing that’s ever happened to me.