20. Paige
CHAPTER TWENTY
Paige
We’re all in the kitchen next morning, each of us doing our own thing. I’m scrolling on my phone while drinking coffee, Ryan is making a cup for himself, and Jordan and Emma are packing a backpack with water bottles from the fridge.
“You should come with us, Paige. Not sit in the house the whole day.” Emma purses her lips.
“Sorry, but I really need to write. I’ll get out later, when the sun isn’t so strong. Where are you going anyway?”
“Oh, we’re doing an excursion to a nearby town. We’ll be out the whole day.” She zips the backpack and motions for Jordan to grab it. “Do you have anything planned, Ryan?”
His head lifts from his coffee cup, his eyebrows raising in surprise. Jordan’s jaw clenches, but it’s small enough for Ryan not to notice.
“I’m going for a run. I’ll probably hang out on the beach later.” He shrugs noncommittally, and Jordan’s jaw relaxes.
My teeth grit together, annoyed by the way she’s treating him. I know we’re supposed to be in this together, the two sisters against Dad’s girlfriends, but he’s an innocent bystander. And maybe we’re too old for this.
“Hope you enjoy yourself.” Emma, the ray of sunshine she is, smiles warmly, which he returns with a lift to his lips.
I try to ignore how hot he looks, dressed only in a thin, worn t-shirt, and workout shorts.
His hair is messy from sleep, his gorgeous eyes foggy, and he scratches his beard like he hasn’t fully woken up yet.
Involuntarily, my gaze lowers to the seam of those workout shorts before quickly rising back to his face.
His face isn’t the only one showing that he just woke up.
I’m pretty sure he isn’t wearing any underwear, either.
A tingle starts in my core, spreading over my stomach, and I realize it’s time to go. There’s work to be done.
“Have fun.” My voice is breathy, which is embarrassing, so I make myself scarce as quickly as I can.
An hour later, the column is a steaming pile of shit.
I’ve changed my writing spot three different times before finally settling on the sunken living room couch.
Unlike my previous problem, where I had too little to write about, it seems that the situation is the complete opposite now. There’s a lot to write about.
The hard part is to imagine this being shared with the world.
I don’t want everyone to know Ryan caught me masturbating, and not only because it’s embarrassing.
It’s private, intimate. It’s a thing between the two of us I don’t want to share with the world.
I can hardly share the experience with the toy, since the fantasy of Ryan doing its job shaped most of it.
Even if I were to write it, it belongs on an erotica site, not on the back cover of a magazine.
It’s also a challenge to even think about without getting hot and bothered.
I drop my head into my hands, hoping—praying—that I can turn this junk into something worthwhile.
The lock clicks, letting someone inside, and my gaze snaps to the door. Ryan entering our shared villa shouldn’t come as a shock, but my breath still hitches at the sight of him.
“Hi,” he says, less cocky than I’m used to. “I brought you an almond croissant.” He lifts a paper bag into the air.
I let out an excited squeal. “I love them.”
“I know,” he murmurs.
I realize I mentioned it the first breakfast we had here, all together. He remembered. I take a bite of the croissant, a loud moan escaping me.
His eyes shift to my lips, pausing for a beat before moving to my laptop. “How’s writing going?”
My mouth drops. “Not well. I don’t even know what to write.”
He takes a seat on the couch, facing me. “Well, what’s the theme? Other than sex toys.” A delicious smirk forms on his face.
“I’m supposed to be reviewing them. But it has to be fun, and sexy, and interesting. Not sound like an review. I should also compare them, I guess.”
“So, what was yesterday’s toy like? I didn’t really get a good look.” He locks his hands behind his head, that smirk now permanently etched into his beautiful face. It’s truly unfair how hot he is.
My fingers fidget in my lap. “Erm, this one is supposed to imitate oral sex.”
He licks his lips slowly, his eyes darkening. “Maybe… uhm, maybe a good angle would be comparing the toy to the real thing?”
His suggestion makes me full on belly laugh. “That would be a great idea…” I shake my head. “If I remembered what the real thing feels like.”
His eyebrows scrunch. “What do you mean?”
“I think it’s pretty obvious what I mean.” My gaze drops to my hands.
“It’s not.”
I could tell him it’s none of his business, but a warm spot in my belly compels me to tell him the truth. “Well, my ex wasn’t really into it. And I haven’t dated since.”
“Your ex was an idiot, then.”
“That he was.” I huff a laugh. “But it’s not like other guys are crazy about it, either.”
“Boy, do you have things to learn when you get back out there.” There’s conviction to his words, one that plants a seed of curiosity inside my chest.
“Too bad I’m not going to.”
“What? You’re not going to date anymore?”
“Yes. Before you ask, I have my reasons, and you can’t convince me otherwise.” I’m nowhere near ready to share that.
“I wasn’t planning to.”
My shoulders relax with relief. “Anyway, thank you for the suggestion. Unfortunately, that doesn’t work for me.” I move my focus back to my laptop before his words snap my gaze up.
“Maybe I could give you a reminder.”
“Come on, stop messing around.” A nervous chuckle escapes me. I wait for him to start laughing but he doesn’t.
Instead, his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip again. “I’m not. I’m serious.” I let out a scoff. “You need help with your column, and you should know I’m at your service.”
I hear the innuendo loud and clear, but I opt to ignore it. “Yes, you already mentioned you’re a humanitarian, but I’m not interested in your pity.” I close my laptop and stand, while my heartbeat thrums in my throat.
His hand snakes out to wrap gently around my wrist. “Pity? I’m attracted to you, Paige. And I’m pretty sure you’re attracted to me, too.”
“Attracted to me?”
“Yeah. I thought it was obvious from the way I had to hide my erection when you were grinding up on me after we won those silly games.”
“You couldn’t get away from me faster.”
He fixes his gaze on mine. “Now you know why.”
I shake my head, my voice now hoarse. “This is a bad idea.”
“Well, my life was full of good ideas, and it didn’t work for me so far. Maybe a good old bad idea is just what I need.”
“I can’t let you do that.”
“We don’t have to do what the toy was intended for, but I can still help you.” He stares at me with hooded eyes, as my heart beats out of my chest. Holding eye contact, he taps his thigh. “Come here.” His voice is so low it’s barely audible, but a whimper fights to escape me.
My nipples pebble through the flimsy set I have on, moisture pooling between my legs.
Even though my mind is spiraling, my feet eat up the space between us.
I let out a shaky exhale, realizing our knees are almost touching.
His fists tighten before he slides even closer to me.
Once again, our gazes connect. He searches my eyes for hesitation but finds none.
“Sit.” It’s a simple word that wreaks havoc on my body.
“Wh… what do you mean?”
“Turn that pretty ass toward me and sit. Right here.” He taps that thick thigh again, and I swallow the spit that has gathered in my mouth.
Each command he gives relaxes my mind. There are no decisions to be made, no problems to be dealt with. I just need to obey.
So I do.
I turn my back to him and take a seat on his thigh. He releases a sharp breath, one that travels down to my core. His fingers move the hair off my shoulder, his head inching dangerously close to my ear.
“You’re in charge, Paige. I’ll tell you what to do, but you’re the one deciding if you’ll listen. I’m not going to touch you. I want to, but I want you to be comfortable. You can also stop this any time you like.”
Instead of doing just that, I nod frantically, anticipation eating at me.
“I want you to rub that sweet little pussy all over my thigh.”
“I…” I start to say but he doesn’t let me.
“Rub it.”
My hips obey in an instant and start moving front to back. A soft moan bubbles out as the contact shoots through my clit. The silk of my shorts and the cotton of his are the only things standing between my pussy and his muscular thigh, which I’m excessively aware of.
“That’s it. You’re doing so well.”
Another moan escapes, louder this time. The friction is delicious, but combined with his praise, it’s unbearable. Pure need pushes any hesitation out of my head. I want him. I need him.
“Does that feel good? Is it better than that silly toy?”
“Fuck, yes. It’s so much better.” There’s no competition. The memory of this will be better than any toy you can order. I can’t believe I ever thought he was rubbing me the wrong way, because this… this is definitely the right way.
“Good. You deserve it. You deserve all the pleasure.”
Why does that sound so fucking hot? And why isn’t he touching me?