Sugar on the Edge (Last Call #3)(22)

Demand of me.

Demand of anyone, for that matter.

No, she doesn’t have the strength of character that would be deserving of heroine status in my book, so I’m not changing a damn thing I’ve written just because she’s shown a little gumption of late.

Savannah lets out a soft sigh from the couch, and I watch her intently. The hand across her stomach moves up, and she stretches both of them over her head, arching her back off the couch in a sleepy stretch. It pulls her T-shirt up higher, exposing more of her stomach and thrusting her breasts out.

The two glasses of scotch I’ve had haven’t mellowed me enough that my dick doesn’t take notice of the unintentional, but sexy move. It thumps against the zipper of my jeans with interest.

I wonder if I could seduce her… right now? I wonder if I gave into this attraction… this lust that’s brewing for her, could the pounding of my cock between her legs drive her right out of my thoughts for good? Maybe that’s what I need… just to f*ck her, with raw, primal energy… enough to scare her away for good. Maybe then, I could quit thinking about her. She’d run away crying, her dignity shredded, and I could hire a new cleaning service and be done with her.

Savannah takes a deep breath, lets it out, and then goes still. I can’t see if her eyes are open in the shadows where she lies, but by the measured movement of her chest, I think she’s gone back down under.

Setting my empty tumbler on the table beside me, I stand up and walk over to the couch. I stare down at her, her face so serene and peaceful. I wonder if she’s dreaming.

Without a second thought, I sit down on the edge of the couch, in a small area available to me by her left hip. Taking my finger, I stroke it over the skin of her stomach and say, “Sweet… it’s time to wake up?”

She gives a soft moan in her sleep and arches her back off the cushions again.

And f*ck, that’s sexy.

And yeah, I definitely want to f*ck her.

“Savannah,” I call out to her softly and bring my hand up to her face, grazing my fingers over her temple. “You need to wake up.”

Her eyes flutter open, immediately making contact with mine, and I let my hand drop away.

“She’s alive,” I murmur as she stares at me with dark eyes.

“What time is it?” she rasps out, turning her head to the left to look out the back glass door.

“Just after nine PM,” I tell her. “You slept like a rock. I could have had my way with you, and you would have never known.”

“Oh, yeah?” she asks skeptically, and with sleep still heavy in her voice. “Like what?”

Oh, little girl, the things I could have done to you.

I go for the shock factor to see what she does. Reaching my left arm behind me, I place my fingers on her calf. Her skin is warm and silky, and her breath hitches at the slight touch. “I could have skimmed my fingers up your leg, right past your knee… up your thigh,” I tell her, moving my fingers up that same path I’m describing. When I get to the edge of her shorts, I halt my progress. “I could have inched my way right under these short little shorts… found the edge of your damp panties just to prove that you were having a sexy little dream while you were sleeping.”

A tiny moan comes out of her mouth, and her eyes glitter back at me from the ambient light of the lamp reflecting in them. “You didn’t do that,” she says without any type of conviction at all… and is that a bit of longing I hear?

I finger the edge of her shorts. “I’ve done all kinds of dark and dirty things that your limited imagination could never fully appreciate. It would have been nothing for me to do that to you.”

“Maybe so,” she breathes out in a rush, “but you wouldn’t have done that without my consent.”

“Hmmm,” I say thoughtfully, releasing the denim material and placing my fingers on her hot skin, feeling her muscles jump underneath my touch. “I’m wondering… would you give me your consent right now? Would you let me tunnel my fingers inside just a bit, let me see if your panties are damp because what I’m saying to you now is turning you on?”

She doesn’t move a muscle… holds her breath and watches to see what I’ll do. But that doesn’t work for me, because she’s going to need to be a little more forceful if she wants what I’m offering. I can see what she wants in her eyes, but yes… I want more.

“Tell me, Sweet,” I taunt her as my fingers stroke back and forth underneath the hem of her shorts, just a mere inch from the edge of her panties. “Do you have it in you to ask for my fingers, or would you rather leap off this couch and flee away?”

Savannah inhales sharply, and I tense as I wait for her to choose the latter option. I’m so f*cking turned on right now by trying to dare her into letting me seduce her, that I’d probably hold her down and not let her up. She pulls her lower lip in between her teeth and chews on it thoughtfully while she weighs her options.

“Come on, Sweet,” I encourage her, my voice rough with need. “Show me what you got inside of you… deep down inside. Take a walk on the wild side… you know you want to.”

Fuck me standing. Savannah flexes her hips upward, a silent demand that I move my hand. It’s clear to me now that she wants it, but she’s still too afraid to demand it out loud.