Tease (Cloverleigh Farms #8)(47)

It gave me another idea.

“Show me,” I said, sitting back on my heels. “What you do late at night. When you think about this.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes.” I crossed my arms over my chest, like I was suddenly shy. “Or else.”

He glared at me, but he took his cock in his hand, wrapping it in his fist and giving it several long, slow pulls. “Is this what you want?”

But I couldn’t answer. I was mesmerized—by the muscles that worked as he stroked himself—arm and shoulder and abs. By the way he stood, like he wasn’t ashamed—head up, chest proud, breath coming faster. And by the way his eyes remained on me, their shade of blue hotter and more piercing than a moment ago.

I started to breathe faster too. In fact, I think my breathing was more frantic than his. I could not get over that he was actually doing this in front of me—or how much I liked the sight of his hand on his cock, palm sliding over the darkened crown, fist working up and down the thick, veined shaft. I realized I hadn’t seen his naked body in the light last night, and it was perfect. A work of art.

“Touch yourself,” he demanded in a voice I’d never heard him use, a voice that couldn’t be refused. Besides, he’d done it for me. And this was all pretend, right? We trusted each other. Why not just let go?

I lifted my butt off my heels and ran my hands over my breasts, down my stomach, up my thighs, never taking my eyes off him.

“Yes.” His hand moved faster. Harder. “Yes.”

Emboldened by his reaction, I let one hand glide between my legs, slowly caressing my clit with soft, circular motions, as if I was alone in the dark and not under his eyes in the light.

“Fuck,” he growled through his teeth. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

“I’m thinking about you,” I panted, sliding my free hand over one breast. “I love thinking about you when I do this.”

His jaw clenched and he exhaled sharply, as if I’d said something to make him angry. “Is that true?”

“Yes,” I said, because it was. He’d always been such a good fantasy, almost like a movie star—someone out of reach. “I’d pretend your hands were on me this way.”

“My tongue.” His eyes blazed with desire. “Did you think about that?”

“I am now.” I rubbed myself a little harder, the muscles in my legs starting to hum. My eyes lingered on his erection.

“Fuck.” He closed his eyes and stopped moving his hand, keeping it wrapped tightly around his dick. “This is going to be over too soon.”

“Let me.” I took him by the wrist and pulled his hand from his cock so I could take over. Curling my fingers around him, I lowered my mouth onto his thick, hard length, taking him to the back of my throat. I held my breath, keeping still for a moment, praying I wouldn’t choke.

“Jesus,” he breathed, his hands slipping into my hair.

I felt him pulse once—a warning—and tasted something salty sweet. I began to suck hungrily, using my hand to grip what wouldn’t fit in my mouth.

He cursed again and tightened his grasp on my head, holding me still. “Are you sure?”

I glanced up through my lashes, moving my hands to his ass, digging my fingers into his skin and pulling him deeper. It was all the permission he needed, and he began to flex his hips, driving his cock into my mouth, his breaths loud, his groans escalating, his movements growing more and more frantic until his body tensed up and he stopped moving completely, except for the thick, pulsing throb of his orgasm, which erupted at the back of my throat.

He pulled out and I sat back on my heels again, wiping my mouth with my arm and catching my breath.

But I didn’t have much time to recover before Hutton grabbed me beneath the arms and set me up on the edge of the tub. Dropping to his knees in front of me, he pushed my legs apart. “My turn,” he said.

It took some serious balance not to go right over backward during the toe-curling, thigh-trembling, tub-thumping finish he gave me.

Teenage Hutton and Felicity would not have recognized themselves.

I was proud of us—for having the guts to cross the line, for being brave in front of one another, and for trusting that none of this would ruin what we had.

The game was fun, but it was just a game.





ELEVEN





HUTTON





“Tell me a secret,” Felicity said, snuggling up to me in bed.

“A secret?” Lying on my back, I put one hand behind my head and wrapped the other around her shoulders. I could still smell the lavender and vanilla on her skin—pretty sure I was never going to find those scents relaxing, especially now that my brain would associate them with what had just transpired in my bathroom. But at the very least, they’d bring back a nice memory.

“Yes. Or a story from when you were little. I like those.”

I thought about it for a moment. “When I was young, I thought I had magic powers.”

“Oooh! What kind of magic powers?”

Her reaction made me smile—I loved that she was more interested in the nature of my otherworldly abilities than in laughing at the idea. “I thought I could control the outcome of things—favorably for me, of course—or prevent bad things from happening, with certain actions.”