Page 83 of Say My Name

Her smile is brief and nervous, a flicker of the woman who isn’t running a deal or defending a model. I see it because I know her, and the sight of that vulnerability makes my own control fray. I kiss her, cutting off whatever argument she was about to make.

She gets my shirt open and pushes it off my shoulders. Her palms trace my chest, the frantic energy gone. I let her look and touch until she reaches my belt again.

This time, I don’t stop her.

She opens it, then my trousers, and slides her hand inside my boxer briefs. The first firm stroke jerks my hips toward her hand.

“Jesus, Elena.”

“You didn’t finish.”

“I followed your instruction.”

Satisfaction shows on her face. “Good.”

I grip her hips and kiss her hard. She strokes me again, and I walk her backward until her knees meet the mattress.

“Lie down.”

She does, watching me as she moves to the center of the bed.

I shed the rest of my clothes, then move over her. Her hands reach for me immediately. She runs them down my back and pulls me between her thighs, kissing me with the urgency she held back on the phone.

I drag my mouth along her throat and over the top of one breast while my hand moves between her legs. She’s soaked through the lace, hot and slick with the need she tried to hide on the phone.

“All of this from my voice?”

“You were there too.”

“Forty feet away.”

“And very distracting.”

I stroke her through the fabric, pressing where she’s already swollen. Her hips lift against my fingers.

“Take them off,” she says.

I hook my fingers into the waistband and draw her underwear down her legs. She opens for me when I return, no hesitation left in the movement.

I slide two fingers through her wetness and circle her clit.

“You’re so fucking wet.”

“I’ve been waiting nineteen minutes.”

I laugh against her neck and press one finger inside her.

Her breath leaves on a soft moan, her eyes drifting shut. I add another finger, watching the concentration smooth from her brow as pure sensation takes over. I move them slowly.

“More?” I ask.

“Yes.”

I curl my fingers. Her hand closes around my shoulder, nails pressing into my skin.

“There?” I ask.

“Yes. Don’t stop.”