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A sigh follows, along with some muffled conversation I don’t catch. But then she’s back. “Turn left where?”
I can see her. “The alley you’re on the edge of.”
She turns, eyes narrowing.
“What the hell is your game, Malone?”
“You.”
She walks slowly into the alley, and I know the moment she sees me. Electricity shoots up from my cock through my whole nervous system.
When Scarlett reaches me, I take her arm and pull her close. Our gazes crash, the world suddenly no longer spinning as I stroke my hand down along her cheek. “You squirted.”
“You’re an asshole.”
I turn her, pushing her up against the rough cement wall of the building, and then I crush her mouth with a deep and hard kiss, one that’s pure sex, one that immediately makes me hard. I’d fuck her, here and now, if I didn’t think the risk of getting caught was too great.
There are things I can do that won’t be quite as obvious.
I personally don’t give a fuck about being caught, and though she’s not even close to being a known socialite, she still exists on that scale of respectability, and ruining that for her isn’t in my game plan.
Actually, I’m not sure if she gives a fuck about that shit. But I do. For my purposes, I most definitely do, and her family does. My persona JM cares.
So I don’t fuck her.
But I flip her skirt up as I kiss my way down the side of her throat, licking and sucking the spot where I bruised her, making her moan and gasp because I’m giving her a good pain that makes her push her hips into me.
A silent offering.
And it’s one I take. I move back to her mouth, changing the kiss to gentle, orchestrated seduction, deliberately not deep enough, a touch of romantic, the sweetness of a soft touch that makes the world revolve around her. She follows when I pull back, sighs when I lean in, and it’s very easy to get caught up in that, too.
Because she’s soft, warm, and decadent.
Then I go in for the kill.
Her skirt’s up, and my hand rests on her hip. I slide my thigh between hers, turning the kiss up, making it erotic, biting and nibbling her lip before sinking deep into her pleasures there, the dance of her tongue and her taste.
I move my hand down and into her panties. She’s so fucking wet.
Her slickness coats my fingers as I slide them over her cunt’s slit, up to her clit, and then I push three fingers into her.
She moans and shudders, the muscles of her pussy fluttering like she has a tiny orgasm, or just fucking loves the fact I’m filling up that tight space.
What I’d give to sink my cock into her. From behind. Because I’d want her from behind.
I break the kiss and start to thrust in long hard thrusts. And then I look at her.
“Y-you—” She stops, her eyes rolling up as I thumb her clit. “Oh…”
“You can come. If you can. In one minute, starting now.”
The reverse of the time system of edging makes it worse because she’s going to try to come.
I keep my play with her at a place where she could come if I pushed. But I don’t. I want agony, I want her in knots.
I want her to torture herself.
She tries to ride my fingers, but I take her braid, hold her head, and shift my weight to pin her legs with mine, restricting her movement.
