21. Saige
21
SAIGE
“ I can’t believe you lied to your parents,” I say as we make the short walk to my house. Begrudgingly, I can admit that tonight had been fun, and I’d had a good time.
“About what?”
“About me being nice.”
He snorts. “You are nice.”
“I’m not and I definitely wasn’t when you moved in.”
“You just needed to warm up to me,” he murmurs into my neck, my back pressed to his front as I open my door.
“And you are not getting any action with your parents right next door,” I tell him, turning the knob and stepping inside.
“That’s fine but what about you?” he says, his voice low and full of promise as he spins us and pins my back to the door. “You’ve seen me play; you know how good I am with my fingers.”
I gasp, the noise half want and half surprise as he flicks open the button on my jeans and waits.
“Speculation,” I goad and he grunts, sliding the zipper down a tiny bit before stopping.
“Then say yes so you can find out for yourself,” he presses, his lips trailing over the pulse point in my neck, and God I’ve definitely thought about his fingers and what he’s capable of doing with them.
The way he plays the bass is something beautiful, the instrument a part of him, sexy and alluring.
“I’m going to be so disappointed if you’re all talk, Band Camp,” I say instead, arching shamelessly into him, my panties wet from my anticipation.
He chuckles, his breath hot on my skin as he teases the elastic of my underwear. “You can call me names all you want, Beautiful, but you won’t be riding my hand until you give me the words.”
“It’s obscene how much I want you to make me come.”
“Thank God,” he grunts, crashing his lips over mine, his hand diving into my panties, his fingers rough against the sensitive skin. “I love how wet you are right now.”
He teases me, the need for more almost unbearable as I grip his shoulders and buck my hips. “I need your fingers inside me.”
“How many?” he rasps, continuing the ministrations that are driving me mad.
“Two.”
“Greedy, aren’t you?”
“I just?—”
“Open your legs wider for me.” The words barrel over my justification, and I appreciate the way he’s quick to shut down the noise in my head.
Like he knows what I need more than I do.
That should probably scare me, but I can’t think of anything the moment he sinks two fingers inside, the fullness making my head fall back against the door. The thrusts are slow but deliciously filling, the pleasure starting to build with every stroke as his mouth finds mine, his tongue mimicking what he’s doing between my thighs.
“Bridge,” I moan, “I’m?—”
“Don’t hold back,” he commands as I cry out, my orgasm obliterating my senses as he fingers me, the heel of his hand grinding against my clit. “That’s it, Beautiful. Your pussy is gonna feel so good strangling my cock. God damn, that’s hot.”
The praise is murmured as he helps me down from the high, his movements gentling before he pulls his hand from my panties and sucks his fingers into his mouth. He groans, and I can’t help but whimper because I did not expect that.
“God, you taste good.”
“Didn’t take you for being quite so dirty, Band Camp,” I tease, even though the door is currently holding me up and he knows it.
“I have a feeling you are too.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I sniff and he chuffs out a laugh.
“Yes, you do. And at some point, you won’t be so hesitant to ask me for what you want.”
“Think so?”
“I do and I’m pretty sure I’m gonna like it.”
“And what if you don’t?”
“No sense worrying about the what-ifs, Beautiful. It’s much easier to focus on the here and now and then take everything else as it comes.”
“That is truly a delightful outlook,” I deadpan, and he grins before leaning in and pressing his mouth to mine.
“What’s delightful is the way your lips part as you come, the way you held on to me as you chased your pleasure.” His eyes meet mine, fire dancing in the depths. “You were stunning and now I need to go.”
“You’re kidding,” I say, palming his erection through his jeans and growling when he grabs my wrist.
“You already told me I’m not getting any action.” He dips his head, the motion highlighting the fact that my pants are still open. “That was for you, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the hell out of it.”
“Bridger.”
“Saige,” he mocks, kissing the tip of my nose. “I’ll text you later. Thank you for getting my parents here, for meeting them,”—he swallows hard—“and for not running when I know you wanted to.”
Lifting up on my toes, I wrap my arms around his neck, while his wrap around my back. “Was the orgasm a reward then?”
“Maybe,” he admits sheepishly.
“I’m fine with that,” I tell him before threading my fingers through his hair and kissing the hell out of him.
Because I can.
Because Bridger Cole is mine.