Page 16 of Feral
One word.
One gesture, that’s all I need.
My hand stays on her shoulder, my fingers caressing her above the flimsy fabric as I focus on her completely.
“How long?” she asks again and I give her the truth.
“Seven years. Give or take,” I confess, and then it’s my turn to hold my breath.
Waiting.
Hoping.
Craving.
“Hmmm… that's quite the stretch,” she whispers, rubbing the fingers of her left hand together as if weaving an invisible thread.
I swallow hard, still hovering above her. My hand lingers on her delicate shoulder, unmoving. “Do you enjoy this game of cat and mouse, Miss Stone?”
“Who is the cat, Mr. Broussard?”
“I am the cat, Miss Stone. And you are the mouse. Do you know what happens when the cat finally corners the little mouse? He eats it.”
My hand moves down her arm, slowly, gently, and yet she remains absolutely, utterly still.
I reach even lower, just grazing her delectable breasts.“Do you like to be chased, Miss Stone? Does it excite you to know you have such power over a man?” I move closer, my front rubbing against her back so she can feel the effect she has on me and I lean over her shoulder sliding my hand across her breast, molding it to fit my greedy hands.
“Hmmm…” she purrs, still unmoving.
“What’s our little mouse going to do, Miss Stone? Run away with its tail between its little legs, or stay and be eaten by the big bad wolf?”
“I wish you’d stop with all the similes, Mr. Broussard. Are you a cat or are you a wolf?”
“I am whatever the hell I want to be, Miss Stone. The question is are you going to survive this little game? Or are you going to make a run for it?”
I can almost see the wheels in her head turning, struggling with whether to succumb to her desire or not. And I have to have her. There’s no way she’s getting out of this unscathed. It’s imperative now that she submits to my yearning.
My hand continues to massage her plump breast when she finally turns to look up at me, meeting my hungry gaze.
“I’ve never been with a one-legged man before,” she mumbles, ending my misery and sending my heart-rate sky high.
“Neither have I,” I whisper, leaning closer and slipping my hand underneath her dress, stopping right above her cleft.
Still, I wait, looking into her sparkling eyes until she has no choice but to spread her legs apart, granting me access to what a starved, desolate man craves the most.
And then, I touch her.
She’s wet.
Just like a misty autumn morning, she is wet and pulsing.
My cock is hard as a rock as I feel her heat against my hand.
She is going to let me fuck her.
Fucking hell!
Chapter 10
