The Fake Out (Vancouver Storm, #2)(67)

He stares at me, eyebrows lifting with that constant, steady, teasing smile, like he has a secret. “I know.”

I pull him down to kiss me, and a soft moan slips out of me as he coaxes me open, tasting me, exploring and claiming my mouth.

“Better?” I whisper between kisses.

“Uh.” Another pained noise in his throat, a frown between his brows. “Not really.” He pulls me harder against him, and I feel the thick, hard length pressing into my stomach.

My breath catches, and warm pressure squeezes at the apex of my thighs. My hand comes to his and I place his palm against my breast, urging him on. Everything inside me tightens when his fingers find the stiff peak, toying and tugging and rolling and driving me absolutely fucking nuts.

He shakes his head, staring at my breasts with a look of awe. “Your tits are beautiful.”

I laugh, even as I’m coiling up with need. “What about now?” I ask again, biting back a moan as he toys with my nipples. “Is this better?”

“No.”

“What would make it better, Rory?” I don’t know why I’m acting like this, trying to find out what would satisfy him.

His hand slides between my legs, and I suck in a breath and let it out on a moan as his fingers press and circle my clit over the damp lace.

“Hartley, you’re drenched.”





CHAPTER 48





HAZEL





I press my lips together to hold in the moan as his hand works exactly the way I need. My face is buried in his neck, huffing in his scent as his hand massages my pussy into another state of consciousness.

“Still feeling jealous?” My voice is thin as he slips his fingers beneath the fabric, and our moans mingle as he drags friction over my clit. “Oh my god,” I breathe against his warm skin. Heat builds under his fingers, swirling and gathering at his touch, and I see my release on the horizon.

He makes a low, pleased noise, hand working steadily with flat fingers, wide and firm circles, exactly the way I touch myself. I don’t know how the hell he knows.

“This is helping,” he says.

“Good.” My lips run up his jaw to his ear. “Keep going, then.”

He reaches over his shoulder and pulls his shirt off before shooting me another knowing grin and getting back to work with his hand between my legs. “Give you something pretty to look at while I get you off.”

So sure of himself. It only drives me higher. His fingers swirl and the spring of tension around the base of my spine winds tighter and tighter.

“Only one thing will really help, though,” he murmurs.

His fingers sink into me, and every nerve in my body lights up. I can’t think, I can’t speak other than the breathy, needy noises slipping out of me, and I stare wide-eyed into Rory’s eyes as he pushes his long fingers into me, not even giving my body time to accommodate him.

“Oh,” I gasp as heat shivers through me.

He isn’t gentle, and I like it. He watches my reaction closely and I know any sign of pain or discomfort would stop this whole situation, but that’s the last thing I want.

I want him to keep doing this. I love his expression, like he’s had a taste of control for the first time and needs more.

“Is this okay?”

“Yes.” Rory holding me on his knee and taking what he needs lights up my whole body. “Take what you want, Rory.”

He groans, jaw tight, pinning me with his focus. “This is exactly what I want. I want to keep you here like this.” His gaze drops to where his fingers are deep inside me, touching a part of me I’ve never been able to reach. “I love it when you’re a good girl for me like this.”

Pleasure unfurls through me and I clench my teeth, breathing hard. This might be my kink, watching Rory get what he wants.

“You’re close.”

“No, I’m not.” Yes, I am, but how much further can I push him? “The last time was a fluke.”

His hand moves to the back of my head, and when his fingers thread into my hair, pulling a fistful tight, light blooms through me like a sunrise. It doesn’t hurt, not at all, but with his strength, his size, and the knowing, focused look in his eyes, the message is clear.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he says, gaze raking over me like his control is fraying. “You’re going to sit on my lap and come on my fingers like I’ve been thinking about for weeks.”

Rory’s expression is awestruck and curious, like he’s surprised himself, pupils huge and mouth slanted up in a reluctant smirk that tells me he’s enjoying this very, very much.

When I clench up around him, he smiles more.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

I’m always in control. Always. But him holding me down in his lap, stuffing me full of his fingers while I spiral higher and higher—it’s working for me. He tilts my head back another inch, baring my throat, and his smug grin slides higher.

“Oh, no,” he says in a low, teasing voice. “You’re not going to come, are you?”

On a broken exhale, I shake my head, still clinging to his gaze.

“Because you don’t do that with guys, right?”

“Right.” My eyes start to close but his grip on my hair tightens.