Her thighs clenched, her fingers balled into fists, and she bit off the need to cry out in feminine fury that she wasn’t the one taking the pleasure Abram was giving.
And if she didn’t get the hell out of there, there would be no way to hide her presence.
She was stepping back, her knees trembling, when his head suddenly turned, his black eyes opening.
As though he knew, or somehow sensed her presence, his gaze zeroed in on her. As she slipped out of the bedroom she saw them narrow as his expression turned sensual once again.
A purely primal, feminine part of her psyche raised its head, previously hidden, unaware, that part of her was suddenly certain that look had been for her, and for her alone.
Rushing into her bedroom Paige closed the door, her hand pressing into the panel as she drew in several hard, deep breaths.
“Abram.” She closed her eyes, his name slipping past her lips in what she recognized was a moment of pure sensual agony.
She was going to have to change her panties. She could feel her juices soaking the thin silk she wore beneath her jeans. Her cl*t was swollen, demanding attention and the clench of her thighs did nothing to help the pulsing ache centered there.
Paige was tempted to use the toy she had been given by one of her best friends.
It would ease, perhaps, the sensual pain flooding her, but she had been saving that last veil of innocence.
For Abram.
Her hands slipped beneath her white silk oversized blouse to find the hard tips of her ni**les beneath the thin lace of her bra.
The touch of her own fingers had a gasp passing her lips. The pleasure was incredible, but still she knew, not as intense as the pleasure Abram would give her.
She cupped the mound and let her thumb stroke against the sensitive tip.
She was aching. So desperate for his touch.
She closed her eyes as a moan whispered past her lips.
Within seconds she had her jeans off and her panties sliding over her legs. She lay back on the bed she kept at Abram’s apartment. Her fingernails raked through the silken curls between her thighs as she spread her legs further and fought to pretend it was Abram. To pretend that it had been her laying in that bed with him and Tariq, that it was her body accepting such pleasure.
He wouldn’t touch her gently. She had a feeling he wouldn’t touch her lightly. Each touch would be firm, determined, dominant. It would border erotic pain, and agonizing pleasure.
He would control her body.
Her fingers returned to her breast, nails rasping her ni**les before gripping it and pumping it erotically. Her head thrashed against the bed.
It wasn’t enough.
She needed more.
Parting the folds of her pu**y she ran her fingers over her heavily juiced slit, moved upwards, circled her cl*t and ran a trail of pleasure around the bundle of nerves.
And still, it wasn’t enough.
Desperate, muffled breathy cries were stopped in her throat, the sounds almost silent as she caressed her flesh, sliding downward, circling the entrance and dipping shallowly inside.
And once again, it wasn’t enough.
The need was growing worse with each visit Abram made to Virginia, and now, she would never be able to forget the sight of him sharing his lover, or the pleasure that had contorted her face, as well as his.
She wanted it.
She wanted the extreme eroticism she had witnessed between Abram, his lover, and his cousin. She wanted Abram until she felt as though she were burning up inside. Perspiration dotted her body, it felt as though flames were licking over her flesh. Her pu**y clenched, her juices spilling to her fingers as she pressed two together, uncaring of the veil of her virginity as she tucked them against the snug entrance.
Wood cracked against wood hard enough to cause her to pull her fingers free of her body and to jerk her upright in shock.