Bait: The Wake Series, Book One(66)

“I don't know what I want,” I confessed.

An “mmm” sound came low and throaty from the man between my legs who was acting more and more like the Casey I knew. The Casey I'd started feeling something real for, even if I didn't know what that something was.

Between his seductive cajolery he spoke against me, “It's not the best possible answer for me, but I think that it's the truth. So, let’s start small. Short-term.” He braced himself over me and his face hovered close to mine. My legs spread open around him, desperate to surround his hips and pull him closer to me.

“What do you want from me this very second?” he asked.

“A kiss,” I said, repeating his initial request in Chicago. We'd only kissed briefly in the bar, and I was aching to feel his lips on mine.

“I like that answer. I want that, too.” Then he kissed me deeply. My toes curled from that kiss. Then he pulled away and continued, “And what else do you want from me right now? And don't say I don't know. It shuts me out. And if you do, I'll shut you out, too.”

I needed a quick answer, so I said, “Touch me.”

He chuckled at my cursory reply and tsked, “You can do better than that, college girl. Try more than a two word sentence. Tell me what you want.”

I wanted it all.





Friday, October 10, 2008


I WANT ALL OF her.

It altogether pissed me off when she said we we're only anatomical. I felt it deep in my gut, anatomically sick.

She racked my brain. We had messaged and talked on the phone. Would someone who basically had no guarantee of any physical gratification spend all of that time on the f*cking phone?

No. Not any sane man anyway. And there I was on top of this beautiful woman, simply begging me to be physical with her. I was clearly thinking like a lunatic.

Don't get me wrong. It was about to get physical, but when she dissected the emotional part from whatever this was, it stung. Even when I gave her what she was asking for—just my body—she still reacted. And f*ck if that hadn’t turned me on. I wanted her to get mad. Protest. Argue. But she didn't. She merely adjusted herself accordingly.

I wondered if I'd ever know that girl.

It was so damn dim and I would have given anything to turn on the light. To see her. To watch her.

She pulled herself up, using the stability of my arm, which also was holding my weight. So I shifted to the side, following her lead. Taking my hand and running it over her stomach she begged, “Please, touch me here.” Her hand was warm and it slid atop mine as I took over, granting her a request that weakened me.

“Please, Casey,” she asked again, even though I was already palming her wet *.

I had to swallow whatever the hell the feeling was that tried to claw its way up my throat. Almost in a whisper, I said, “See that wasn't hard now was it, honeybee? What else?”

Her legs were still dangling off the high-top mattress, so she couldn't get enough leverage to lift into my hand like she wanted it. To say it wasn't gratifying making her try so hard and ask for it would have been a major f*cking lie. And at the moment, she was loving every second.

My fingers steadily increased their pace and my mouth found her breast. I played gently with it and then decided to see if I could push her, make her even more frantic for me. Remembering how much it turned her on when I was being cooler and rougher I wondered if she'd like a little naughty along with her nice.

Maybe that was what she really wanted all along. I could give her that. Hopefully the prick who bought her the ring wasn't doing it for her. Maybe he couldn't satisfy her.

Maybe, Betty liked trouble and that. Whatever it was that I just did. I cataloged that piece of information under: “Honeybee Likes” in my mind. Maybe I knew more about her than I'd thought.

I kissed her perfect nipple and then bit it as I went from one to three fingers and rubbed the inside of her like it was a Jeanie’s lamp. I heard the climax build as her heavy breathing and ahhhs escalated. Her hands latched onto me and her dull finger tips burrowed into my skin. In that moment I was a little relieved that she had onychophagia.

“Yes. There. God.” She panted and I felt the inside of her milk my hand, trying to grab her orgasm and hold onto it. My body—the delivery vehicle. Best job ever.

As her grip weakened, I slid down her, placing my knees on the floor. My hands never left her and as she came down from her come-high, I paired her soaked * with my mouth. And it tasted like she'd sounded a few seconds ago. All sex and desire. She was just as sweet as I remembered. Maybe more.