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But then he rests his hands on my hips, shifting ever so close to me, and I close my eyes, grateful for his nearness. The solid weight of his body seems to keep me propped up and I lean into him, letting my muscles relax. Trying my hardest to shut off my overworking brain.
It’s tough though. Those thoughts are on repeat and refusing to stop.
“Are you freaking out?” Rhett shifts even closer, his arms wrapping around my middle. He rests his hands on my stomach, my back plastered to his front, and I lean the back of my head against his chest, savoring the warmth and strength of his touch.
“A little,” I admit, wanting to be truthful with him.
“Don’t.” His voice is low, rumbling along my nerve endings, settling them. Somewhat. “I’ve got you.”
His mouth drifts across the side of my face, his lips feather soft and barely there. I lean my head into his, about to release my grip on the curtains when his command stops me.
“Don’t let go.”
I go still, uncertainty making me freeze. I don’t know what he wants. Waiting for a signal from him. But he doesn’t give me one. Instead, he moves his hands so that they rest on my hips, his fingers curling, slowly gathering the fabric of my skirt. Lifting it up, the cool air hitting my legs, making me tremble.
“What’s happening now?” he asks, his tone conversational, his hands working magic on my skin. They slip under my dress, rough fingertips brushing along my outer thighs. “Outside at the party?”
“Oh.” I choke on the single word when his fingers slide up, brushing over the thin waistband of my panties. “Um, most of the guests are gone. The catering staff is cleaning up.”
“Think they can see you?” He slips his fingers beneath the waistband, touching the bare skin of my hips. “Standing in the window?”
“I-I don’t know.” I sway when he traces the waistband of my panties from my hips to my backside.
“Do you want them to see you?” Oh, his voice is a sensuous dare, one I’ve never heard before, and I feel as if I’m in a trance. Lost in the sensation of his touch, the words he’s saying to me.
“Maybe,” I whisper, nearly stumbling when he glides me closer to the window, my body pressed to the cold glass. It’s a shock to my warm skin and I suck in a sharp breath, closing my eyes when he tugs on my panties, yanking them down my butt cheeks. Exposing me.
“This dress …” His voice drifts and he shoves at the fabric of my skirt, bunching it around my waist. My butt is completely exposed to his gaze and I’m both mortified and completely aroused at the same time. I don’t know how that’s even possible. “It’s been driving me crazy all night.”
“Really?” My voice squeaks with surprise. I felt good in it, but I wasn’t sure if he really noticed.
“You ask that like you’re shocked. Come on, Will. You know what you do to me.” He presses his torso against my butt, letting me feel exactly what I do to him.
He’s hard. Huge. My legs wobble at the sheer size of him and I hang on tighter to the curtains. His right hand slips around, cupping the front of my panties, his mouth right at my ear. “You’re wet.”
Embarrassingly so. His fingers gently press against my flesh, saturating my flimsy panties with my own wetness and when he starts to rub, my head falls back against his shoulder once again. I close my eyes, lost in the sensations of his busy fingers, and when he presses against a particularly sensitive spot, it’s as if sparks light up my skin, spreading everywhere.
“Do you ever touch yourself like this?” he asks, and oh my God, how do I answer him? With the truth? “You can trust me, Will. I won’t reveal your dirty little secrets.”
“Y-yes-s.” The word stutters out of me like I can barely speak. Or maybe that’s because he’s increased his speed, touching me harder. Faster. It feels so much better when he does it. When I can feel him pressed against me, his mouth at my cheek, my ear. His hot, panting breaths. He’s enjoying this maybe almost as much as I am.
Or maybe not, because the way he’s stroking me feels amazing.
“This morning in the shower, I jerked off while thinking about you,” he admits, his deep voice vibrating within me. I’m tingling everywhere, imagining him touching himself. “I imagined doing exactly this with you. Making you wet. Making you come.”
Oh. My clit is throbbing from his words and touch. I’m going to come. I’m so close.
“Spread your legs, baby,” he demands, and I automatically do as he says. “And don’t let go of the curtains.”
He spins little circles atop my clit with his thumb. His index finger. And then he stops, sliding his fingers through my slick folds, his middle finger testing my entrance before pushing inside. I hold my breath at the sensation of him inside me. Even if it’s just his finger, this feels like a moment. I remember vaguely what Iris told me. How there’s no going back after this. The more you give them, the more they want, and eventually, you don’t even care. You want to give them everything.
“Fuck, you’re tight.” His voice is harsh, his control remarkable. I don’t know why he hasn’t just flipped me over his shoulder and carried me back to the bed already. But it’s kind of exciting, standing in front of the window with Rhett’s fingers under my panties, searching me.
About to make me come.
I hang on the precipice, a moan leaving me when he withdraws his finger from where no one has ever been before. He returns his attention to my clit, rubbing it in quick little circles that has me panting, the tension radiating throughout my body making it a struggle to breathe. I tilt my hips upward, seeking more, needing more, and he gives it to me. His mouth is crushed against my ear, his breaths harsh, his fingers frenzied. I’m close. So close …
His mouth somehow finds mine in a sloppy kiss and the moment his tongue strokes mine, I’m coming. I gasp and moan against his lips, my head falling back as he presses against my clit. Wave after wave of sensation slams into me, making me weak. Dizzy. I let go of the curtains in freefall for only a second before his arms tighten around me, keeping me on my feet.
