Page 59 of That Rush

My pulse kicks when Aiden looks between my legs with open, hungry approval.

“Beautiful,” he says.

The praise warms my face. Any impulse to close my thighs disappears, and I open wider.

He looks up, meeting my eyes.

“That’s my girl.”

“You’re getting possessive.”

“You’re soaking my hand.”

“You sound pleased about that.”

“I’m fucking thrilled.”

I laugh, and his fingers slide through my slick folds.

The laugh catches, becoming a moan.

He spreads my wetness over my clit, circling it with one thick finger. Every nerve feels exposed, and pleasure builds with a speed that makes my legs tremble.

“Slower,” I say.

He slows immediately. His rhythm shifts to match the silent press of my hips, an answer to a question I didn't have to ask. He just knows.

“Better?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me if that changes.”

His finger slips lower and presses inside me. My pussy tightens around him.

“Paige.”

I hear the question in my name. “Keep going.”

He pushes deeper, watching every reaction. The stretch is easy, but the curl of his finger against a spot I have never managed to reach pulls a startled cry from my throat.

“That’s a first,” he says.

All the books I’ve read feel like a foreign language compared to what my own body is saying.

“Do it again.”

His brief, approving smile is unmistakable.

He does it again, then adds a second finger when I open for him. I moan at the stretch and move against his hand, following pleasure instead of trying to look composed beneath him.

“There you go,” he says, his voice low. “Fuck my fingers the way you need to.”

The filthy instruction steals what little composure I have left.

I do exactly what he says.

My hand locks around his forearm while I ride his fingers. He keeps the pace I set, his eyes fixed on the place where they disappear inside me and then on my face.