43. June #2
It’s enough to snap me out of my lust-induced trance, and I purse my lips. “Excuse me, sir, are you making fun of me?”
Heat flashes across his expression. “I like it when you call me sir.”
I snort, shaking my head. “I’m serious. I want to know. Is there something wrong with looking at intimacy as something that can still be a turn-on when it’s private?”
“You saying you’re turned on right now? You know, since we’re in private?”
I give him a pointed look.
Caving, he answers, “No, June Bug. Nothing is wrong with privacy.”
“Then, why are you teasing me?”
“Guess you and I have different perspectives,” he offers.
“Such as?”
“It’s complicated.”
I twist in his arms to face him. “Tell me.”
“Well, for me, sex has always been a physical, and sometimes mechanical," he adds dryly, “act.”
“Mechanical,” I repeat.
“Only the worst interactions.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s totally a turn-on,” I tease.
“Guess when you’re hollow like me, you gotta take the good with the bad.”
My attention bounces around his face as I take him in.
The truth is, his calloused words make me almost…
sad. I rub my lips together, searching for an additional second to wrap my head around it.
What it would be like. To not know love.
Because clearly, that’s where this stems from.
Sure, he didn’t put it that way, but it’s easy to read between the lines.
He looks at sex as something purely physical because he’s never connected with someone emotionally.
Or if he has, he hasn’t realized it. My heart twists at the recognition.
The truth in all its messy glory. “So, you’re hollow because you look at sex as a way to get off, and I’m innocent because I look at sex as a private act, and maybe even an intimate one,” I reply. “Is that right?”
“Nothing wrong with it,” he returns. “I actually like that about you. The way you see things.” Nudging my chin up, he rasps, “That you believe there’s still good in the world.
” He kisses me again, and I let him, savoring the feel of his mouth on mine.
One day. One day, I’ll convince him otherwise.
That sex can be more than physical or mechanical.
More than a means to an end. It can be…it can be beautiful.
I know it can because I’ve felt it with Ford.
And a not-so-small part of me believes he’s felt it with me, even if he’s too scared to admit it yet.
And most importantly, maybe I can make him realize he isn’t hollow.
That there’s a big, fat caring heart in there.
That being said, just because I have a different view of sex than Ford doesn’t mean I can’t see the appeal of where he’s going with this.
Ending the kiss, I whisper, “Okay, Ford. Let’s play your hypothetical game.”
“You sure?”
“On one condition.”
His brow lifts.
“Tell me the cameras are off.”
With a low laugh, his eyes drift to the corner of the room, and he nods. “Promise.”
“Well, all right, then.” I twist around and face the mirrors, pressing my back to his front and arching my spine. It’s subtle. Barely a brush of my bum against the zipper of his jeans, but it’s enough. His abs tighten as he wraps his arm around me, caging me against him.
Letting his pinky tease the waistband of my leggings, he splays his hand along my stomach.
If he was any other guy, I’d feel self-conscious, but after the dozens of compliments he’s given me based on my body even before we were dating, I guess I’ve stolen enough confidence to enjoy it.
The feel of his hand. The swell of his erection. Yeah, he likes it, too.
Nibbling my bottom lip, I whisper, “Now, where were we?”
“We were discussing whether you’d prefer to be a watcher or a performer,” he breathes against the shell of my ear.
Warmth spreads at the apex of my thighs as I consider it.
Someone watching me or me watching someone else as they…
you know. I gulp. I don’t know why. But the thought filters through me before I can stop it.
“I guess I can see the appeal of each, but I’d probably lean toward being a watcher.
” I shift my hips against him, my eyelids fluttering.
“I’m not sure I could, you know, get there if I knew someone was watching.
What about you?” The heat of his mouth touches the side of my neck, causing another shiver to race down my spine.
“Me?” The word is low and throaty.
I squeeze my thighs together. “Mm-hmm.”
“I could watch you come all day.”
My mouth lifts, but I keep my eyes closed, oh so aware of his hand slowly inching lower with every passing breath. “Pretty sure that’s not how this game goes.”
“My game, my rules.” He nibbles my earlobe. “Besides, I’m not as biased as you might think.”
“Liar.”
“I’m sorry, have you forgotten about your job offer at The Body Shop?”
“Whatever,” I laugh. “Jill was only baiting you to make a move.”
“And I would’ve been a fool not to.” His hand retreats, shifting higher and cupping my ribcage just beneath my boob.
“But,” he continues, “I also think you’re drastically unaware of your power, June Withers.
” Moving higher, he runs his thumb along my nipple, and I gasp.
“Do you know how many men would kill to watch you come?” His palm slides down my waist before moving toward my belly button.
“How many men would kill to have their hand where mine is right now?”
I don’t know if it’s the mirrors. I don’t know if it’s his words.
I don’t know if it’s the feel of his palm or the hypothetical possibility playing out at the idea of someone watching me right now.
Watching us. Heck, I can’t even open my eyes to see it play out.
But whatever it is, it’s working. I lean into Ford, letting him take some of my weight.
As if knowing it’s permission, he slips his hand into my leggings.
My breath grows short as he slowly dips his hand lower.
“Open your eyes, June Bug,” he demands against the shell of my ear.
I do as I’m told, only to find his gaze pinned on me through the mirror in front of us.
And the others? The others each give a different angle of a sexy man with his hand down the pants of an innocent girl.
Slowly, his fingers dip lower, skating across my folds before cupping me fully.
My core clenches on contact. He adds a bit more pressure but doesn’t spread me. Not yet. He knows I take longer to warm up. I shouldn’t be surprised. The man’s a master at knowing what I want before I do.
“Look how sexy she is,” he grinds out. His opposite hand slips further up. He cups my ribcage just beneath my breast. “Look how perfect her tits are. Do you think he’ll touch them?”
God, I hope so.
My eyes threaten to close again, and he squeezes me softly, sliding his hand even higher until my heavy breasts spill out of his palm from over my clothes.
“Do you think he’ll fuck her?” Ford continues.
His finger finds my folds, and he dips his middle finger into my entrance.
It’s barely a knuckle’s worth, but oh, is it enough.
I bite my lip to keep from crying out as the reflection of his forearm tightening showcases exactly what’s happening inside my bottoms. “That’s it, June Bug.
Watch him fuck her with his fingers.” My core grows hotter as he runs his fingers along my slit, dipping inside again.
“I wonder if she’ll let him take off her leggings.
I bet she’d look so fucking gorgeous in all these mirrors. ”
I grab his wrist, feeling the ropes of muscle under his tan skin flex beneath my touch as he plays with my lady bits. “Tell me she says yes,” he begs.
My head feels like it’s swimming. Like I can’t think straight, let alone form a coherent sentence. It feels too good. The way he knows exactly how to play with me. So much so, I want more. I want it all even if it means proving Ford right. “Yes,” I whisper.
The feel of his palm against my breast disappears as he shoves my leggings to my knees.
Then he drops to his own in front of me.
“I’m going to eat your pretty pussy, June Bug.
And you’re going to watch.” My stomach clenches with anticipation.
“Watch how much I want you. How much I enjoy it. How much of a pleasure it is to serve you.”
Serve me? He wants to serve me? Heat blooms across my cheeks as he leans closer, kissing just above my pubic bone before spreading my folds and licking my clit.
Ooookay. Yup. That feels…um.
I force my legs to keep from buckling, and grab hold of his shoulder for balance while he licks me again from slit to clit.
It’s official. The flat of his tongue has no reason to feel as good as it does.
Pressing his finger against my center, he pushes into me while paying special attention to my clit with his mouth.
I try to catch my breath, but the stimulation is too good.
Too overwhelming. I bite my bottom lip to keep from moaning as ripple after ripple of pleasure pulses through me.
How does he do it? How does he make me feel sexy and alive in a way I’ve never felt before?
Over and over, he flicks the nub before giving it a long lap like it’s an ice cream cone.
My eyes roll back, and my jaw drops. “Oh, my gosh.” Moving lower, he sticks the tip into my slit, and I swear I might black out from pleasure.