Page 32 of Indebted

Touch him.

“What are you going to do about it?” I yanked the material of his shirt out of his dress pants and slid my hands underneath, exploring the smooth plains of his abdomen. The muscles bunched under my hands. He was heated marble, sculpted to perfection. I hesitated, not sure if I wanted to move up or down.

Another choice with varying conclusions.

I decided on upward, my hands sliding beneath his expensive shirt, the palm of my hand grazing over his nipple. The heat of him had my own temperature rising.

“I could do a lot of things,” he promised. “All of which you’d enjoy.”

That’s what scared me. I should be pushing him away, but all I wanted to do was pull him closer.

A dangerous combination.

But I was never one to let my opponent get the better of me. “I bet I could get you to beg first,” I breathed against his mouth.

His chest vibrated under my hand, the only warning I got.

He closed the space between us, his lips hot and demanding on mine. I met him with the same fervor. Our tongues tangled, teeth nipping, pleasure bordering on pain.

The damn had burst, and I was drowning in sensation.

I couldn’t bring him close enough, touch enough. Everything felt too restricting. Even my own skin.

“Oh yeah?” he grinned when we parted for air. “Well, I bet I can make you come first.”

My stomach flipped.

“I bet,” he continued in that sexy purr, “you’re already soaked and one stroke away from orgasm.” His fingers finally dipped into my pants, and I stopped breathing all together. He brushed the outside of my panties. “Fuck, Katie,” he touched my drenched center through the thin cotton, and it took everything I had to prove him wrong and not fly apart. “How can you stand this?”

If he meant my constant state of arousal around him, I’d somehow gotten used to it over the past weeks. But I wasn’t about to tell him that.

“It’s not so bad,” I told him, leaning in to lick the shell of his ear. “Most of the time if I need release, I touch myself and take care of it.” I bit his earlobe and smiled when his back stiffened. It was a truth I never really shared with anyone, definitely not the men in my life either, but the words slipped out easily with Justin.

“Do you think of me when you do it?” his voice came out ragged.

Bastard.

I ducked my head into the side of his neck and bit.

The groan it pulled from him was intoxicating.

I thought I’d successfully distracted him, but his fingers paused, and his gaze was back on mine. “Tell me.”

A silent battle raged between us, and I wanted to make him suffer like he was making me suffer.

He closed the distance between us until our noses touched. “Now, little girl, or you can finger fuck yourself.”

I bared my teeth at him, but he only smiled.

“You,” I forced through clenched teeth. “I think of you, Daddy. When I touch myself. When I rub my clit. When I stretch myself wide with my fingers—”

He pushed two fingers into me.

My head dropped back on a groan, a tremor of pleasure rocking me.

His thumb rubbed against my clit setting off fireworks.

I clung to his shoulders.