Page 35 of If You Were Mine (After We Fall 3)
“Was this on your list?” he rasped. “Being fucked by a stranger in your house?”
My pulse skittered away from me. “Stranger?”
“Yes. You don’t know me.”
My eyes were wide. Was he playing a game or was he serious? I wasn’t sure I liked it that either could be true.
Suddenly he stopped to whisper in my ear. “Play along, princess. It’s more fun that way.”
He’s acting.
Relief mingled with arousal, sending a shiver through my body as he began to move again. For a second, I panicked that I didn’t know how to play along—that I wouldn’t be good at these games. I was creative, yes, but with art I could take my time. I was kind of on the spot here. Closing my eyes, I tried to think about fantasies I had when I was alone. There were scenarios that turned me on, but I’d always kept them private. Could I go there with Theo? What if he didn’t understand?
“You’re so wet for me. I think you wanted this.” The sexy growl in his voice pushed me over the edge.
“I don’t,” I gasped. “You should leave.” But I arched my back even more, pushed my ass back against him, hoping he’d follow me.
He laughed, sinister and seductive. “Not going to happen. I told you I wasn’t good at stopping.”
“Please!” I begged, trying to keep a smile off my face. Damn it, did Giselle have to get all the acting talent? I wanted to play the role fully, but I was so excited it was hard not to show it.
“You don’t really want me to stop. You weren’t even wearing underwear. You wanted me to fuck you. You wanted my hands on your pussy. You want me to make you come all over my cock.” His hand moved faster and harder over my clit, making my stomach feel weightless, my legs go numb. “Don’t you?”
“No.” My voice was as weak as my knees, because I wanted it so badly. I was already on the edge, the tension in my body coiled tight. One second later, I was writhing against him, riding out the most intense orgasm I’d ever felt, my muscles contracting repeatedly around his cock. He kept his hips still, which meant I could feel the tip of him in that deep, hidden spot that electrified every fiber of my being.
As soon as I collapsed forward on the counter, he grabbed my hips again. “Such a bad girl,” he snarled, fucking me hard and fast. “To want me this way.”
“But I’m a good girl.” Getting the words out was a struggle.
“That’s just a show. You want this.” He was close. I heard it in his voice, felt it in the way he moved. “You want me to come.”
“Yes,” I breathed, unable to think beyond the truth of my desire. “I want it. I want it—give it to me.”
His body stilled as he surged inside me, his hands tight on my hips. I closed my eyes and grabbed one of his wrists, circling it with my fingers. It was crazy, but I’d never felt so close to someone during sex before. Maybe it was because I’d had the courage to act out a fantasy with him. Maybe it was because he seemed to know me better than he should. Maybe it was the way he’d said I’m no good for you, as if he wished he were.
Why couldn’t he be?
Before my heart could answer the question, my head spoke up.
Because he doesn’t want to be. He said as much.
You have tonight, and that’s it.
Make the most of it.
Thirteen
Theo
* * *
“Got the cinnamon and sugar ready?” I lined up the bag of marshmallows, the bowl of melted butter, and the crescent roll dough, which Claire had placed on a plastic cutting board.
“Yes,” she said, holding a little white bowl with two hands. After we cleaned up, she’d put on pastel pink flannel pajama pants with little gray bunnies on them (I’m not making this up) and traded the white t-shirt for a fitted gray tank top that showed off her breasts. Her hair was back on the top of her head, and every time I looked at it I remembered taking it down and watching it spill down her back like honey. “Where does it go in the assembly line?”
“Right here.” Ignoring the twitch in my pants—take a break, asshole—I made space between the butter and the cutting board, and she set it on the counter. “OK, ready?”
“Ready.”
