both happy,” he says, and I smile like I actually am a good seductress.
22
Chapter Twenty-two
Garrin
For once in my life, I’m trying to do the right thing, and Isla is making it goddamn impossible.
It’s taking the last of my willpower not to give in. As much as I want to see her on her knees in front of me, choking on my cock, I won’t do it. She’s got too much shit going on in her head and she’s had a lot to drink. Based on what she’s said and knowing her past, sex is a big deal for her, and I couldn’t stand myself if she woke up tomorrow hating me.
Not after I’ve already hurt her—so much more than she knows.
Add on that I’m pretty sure that once I’ve been inside her, she’ll have me by the balls again. And where would that leave me when my father comes knocking? Which he will—it’s just a matter of when.
“What’s your idea?” she says as though she can barely breathe.
“I’d rather show you than tell you.” I bring my mouth to her earlobe, using my tongue and teeth to play with it before trailing down her jawline.
She smells so fucking good, I’ll have to search out her perfume and beat off to it.
She moans and presses her ass down into my cock when our mouths clash. She’s battling for supremacy and I’ll give it to her—tonight.
It’s obvious to me that she needs the release, but I’m going to do as little as possible to get her there so that if she does have second thoughts in the morning, they don’t come with a heaping amount of regret piled on top.
I worm my hand up under the billowing fabric of her skirt while she continues to straddle me, looking down at me with half-lidded eyes. She begins to grind. Her olive skin is flushed and I can’t wait to see how red I can make her.
“Lift up.”
She does as I say, biting her lip as if she thinks I hold the golden key to her orgasm. I guess I do, though. It’s been a long time since I gave a shit what the woman got out of it.
I locate the slit in her dress and my hand finds her center. I run my hand along what feels like lace underwear. My eyes shut for a moment, envisioning what they must look like on her. I want nothing more than to see, but for tonight, I’ll have to rely on my imagination.
As I rub my fingers over the thin fabric, her wetness soaks through.
I groan. “Fuck, you’re already soaked.”
She nods slowly, her eyes never straying away from mine.
Moving the fabric to the side, I gently push my middle finger into her. Fuck, she’s wet and she’s tight. I deserve a fucking gold star for not pulling out my dick and fucking her senseless right now. Isla gasps, then moans, and her head drops back, exposing the length of her neck. God, I’d love to sink my teeth into her for a taste, but I remain leaning against the headboard because I’m going to memorize every one of her reactions as I make her scream my name.
Fuck, she’s tight. I bet she’d squeeze my cock so hard. Speaking of my dick, it’s painfully hard in my tuxedo pants, pushing against the zipper, eager to join the fun.
I pull my finger out and Isla whimpers. She guides my hand back down and I insert my finger again. Talk about a fucking turn-on. That shy Isla knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to speak up in the bedroom. I use my thumb to play with her swollen clit. Her chest heaves, her cleavage pushing up out the top of her dress, teasing me as my eyes fixate, waiting for one to pop out.
I continue dragging my finger in and out of her slickness before I add my index finger. My hand is coated with her juices, and although I always make sure my “dates” are taken care of, I never really care what they think. With Isla, however, a sense of male pride fills my chest at how turned on and wet she is.
“You like that, don’t you?”
“God, yes, don’t stop.”
She moves up and down on my hand, shamelessly chasing her orgasm. I sit back, content to enjoy the show and engrave the image of her riding my hand into my brain. Every time she rises up and falls back down, she whimpers. She’s getting closer.