After Hours (InterMix)(51)

Bite me, I thought. Say something filthy. Threaten me. Touch my f*cking clit, for the love of God. But he just kept taunting, speaking in nothing more than warm, steady exhalations.

I never would have expected him to be this way. So soft, and subtle. Sensual. Words that didn’t describe any of his earlier advances.

Who are you?

Why lead me here, with gruff Kelly’s crass invitations? Why not let gentle Kelly seduce me first, follow the usual order of things?

So I’d know what I was signing up for, perhaps, when rough Kelly returned. Or maybe this was how a mouse felt—brought down by force, then toyed with until the time came for feasting.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about.”

I swallowed. “About what’ll happen. How it’ll be.”

“How do you think it’ll be?”

“Rough.”

A smug sound hummed in my ear, not quite a laugh. “You wet for me yet?”

I nodded.

“Tell me.”

“Yes. I am.” I sounded terrified, my breathing shallow.

“You don’t sound too sure. Maybe I better find out for myself.”

His hands slipped down my belly and over my hips, kneading my thighs. It made his chest clench—hard muscles pushing into my back every time his palms stroked my knees. Oh, the f*cking rhythm of it. The harsh sound of his breath punctuated each motion and all I could think about was sex. About watching Kelly’s body above mine. Flexing chest and arms and hips, the flash of his driving cock, and those cruel, unreadable eyes.

My hands twitched, dying for something to do. Some part of Kelly to touch. Knowing I might get corrected, I angled my arm to cup the back of his head. That soft hair brushed my palm, not matching any other hard part of him.

“I know what you want,” he said.

The next time his hands stroked up my thighs, they stayed there. His thumbs traced the inside borders of my panties, sparking bright and hot as matches. He took my ear lobe between his lips, the gesture so unexpectedly erotic, I gasped. No time to recover, he slid one big, intrusive hand down the front of my underwear.

“Oh.”

His palm rested on my mound, fingers impossibly cool and dry, just barely glancing my clit and the seam of my sex. I shivered, not caring if he saw. Not even caring if it prolonged the wait—all this near touching was getting me as hot as the best head I’d ever received. I could’ve come from his voice and presence and the promises his hands were making, nothing more.

“I like this,” Kelly murmured, stroking his fingertips through the hair on my mound. Then they tightened, fisting my curls, and I choked on a moan, bucking forward.

His free arm circled my waist, holding me in place as those fingers clutched and eased again and again. When I stilled, he released my middle. His grip on my hair tightened and held, ten times as arousing as it was painful. It opened me even wider, made me feel like a restrained animal. His other hand slipped beneath the crotch of my panties, and finally it came. The friction.

“Oh.”

The side of his thumb stroked my clit, the length of his fingers sliding along my lips. My spine curled in on itself, every muscle convulsing.

“Good,” was all Kelly said, and his voice gave him away. Scratchy and shallow. His hands were perfectly poised, but that single syllable thrummed with excitement, just like every last inch of the thick cock beating against my tailbone.

Two stiff fingers slipped forward and back along my lips, forward and back. I squirmed, wanting more—more friction, more depth, more of anything that promised violation. I shut my eyes, remembering the way his erection had taunted me that night in my bed. The way his hips had felt, pushing into me, the way he’d forced my hand around his head and bathed my palm in his come. I squeezed my inner muscles, sharpening the pleasure.

“I know what you want,” Kelly told me again. His voice was deep once more, arousal sounding tamed. At long last he let my curls go, freeing two fingertips to gently pinch my clit, his other hand still tracing my lips, but deeper now.

I was so wet, it was shocking. I felt shameful and proud at once, and above all, exposed. Found out. My mouth could deny my interest in Kelly all day long, but my * didn’t lie. He felt like more than a single person. Two hands, a hard body, a mean voice. A one-man orgy. I’d leave here limping, just as he’d promised.

He rolled my clit between his thumb and forefinger. Pleasure gathered in steady pulsations, but the contact wouldn’t get me off. It wasn’t meant to.